Chapter 10
796 Words
The burner phone stayed dead on the nightstand.
I didn’t turn it back on. Not that night. Not the next morning.
If Lila messaged again, if she accidentally let something slip under pressure, I couldn’t risk it. Kai was Alpha—he had ways of tracing calls, leaning on friends, pulling information from anyone he wanted.
I couldn’t let him find us.
So I wrapped the phone in a sock, shoved it to the bottom of my duffel, and tried to pretend my best friend wasn’t a hundred miles away, probably worrying herself sick.
Day two in the city began with Rosa’s diner.
I showed up early, apron tied tight over my hoodie, hair pulled into a messy ponytail. The breakfast rush was chaos—clattering plates, shouted orders, the sizzle of bacon—but it was exactly what I needed. Noise. Purpose. Something to drown out the constant ache in my chest.
Rosa watched me hustle between tables, refilling coffee, balancing trays, smiling even when my feet hurt. At the end of the shift, she handed me an envelope thick with cash tips.
“You’re a natural,” she said, patting my shoulder. “You sure you’ve never waitressed before?”
“First time,” I admitted, tucking the money away. It was more than I’d made in a month back at the pack house.
“Good. Keep it up, and I’ll bump your hours.”
I walked back to the motel with a lighter step, stopping at a small clinic I’d spotted on the corner. The sign read “Free Women’s Health Services – No Insurance Needed.”
Perfect.
Inside, the waiting room smelled of antiseptic and old magazines. A kind nurse with warm brown eyes took my information—no last name required, no questions about why I had no ID. Just a quiet “We’ve got you, honey.”
The doctor confirmed what the stick already told me.
Six weeks along. Healthy heartbeat. Due in early winter.
I stared at the grainy ultrasound printout for a long time—tiny blob, flickering dot that was a heart. My baby’s heart.
Tears blurred the image, but they were different this time. Not just grief. Joy too. Fierce, overwhelming joy.
This little one was real.
And they were mine.
Back in the motel room, I spread the ultrasound photo on the bed like it was treasure. I traced the edges with one finger, whispering promises.
“We’re going to be okay. I’ll find us a real home. I’ll work double shifts if I have to. You’ll never know what it feels like to be called weak.”
The rejection pain flared at the memory of Kai’s voice, but I pushed it down.
I pulled out my notebook again and added to the list.
5. Buy prenatal vitamins
6. Save for first month’s rent
7. Choose a new last name?
That one made me pause.
Harper tied me to the pack. To my parents. To everything I’d left behind.
Maybe it was time for something new. Something that belonged only to us.
I spent the evening circling classified ads in a free newspaper I’d grabbed from the diner—studios for rent, shared apartments, anything cheap and safe. One listing caught my eye: a tiny basement unit in a quiet neighborhood, month-to-month, utilities included.
I circled it three times.
Tomorrow I’d call.
As night fell, the city sounds filtered through the thin walls—sirens, laughter, car horns. So different from the quiet howls and rustling forest I’d grown up with.
I missed the trees. Missed the moon without buildings blocking it.
But I didn’t miss the pain.
I placed the ultrasound on the nightstand, turned off the lamp, and curled on my side, one hand on my stomach.
For the first time since the mating ball, I fell asleep without dreaming of gray eyes.
Across the miles, in the Silver Moon Pack house, Kai stood on the border at midnight, staring into the dark toward the human city lights on the horizon.
His wolf clawed at him, furious and grieving.
Search parties had found nothing. No scent trail beyond the dirt road. No sign of struggle. Just… gone.
Damon approached quietly behind him. “We’ll keep looking tomorrow. Wider radius.”
Kai didn’t turn. “She doesn’t want to be found.”
Damon hesitated. “The pup rumors—”
“If they’re true,” Kai’s voice cracked like breaking ice, “I’ve lost more than a mate. I’ve lost my child.”
He tilted his head back, letting out a low, mournful howl that carried through the trees.
In the city, I slept on—dreamless, determined, already building walls he would never breach.
The decision was made.
I was never going back.
- Writer
