Chapter 4: Torn Apart

Hazel’s POV

I pressed Liam against my chest, every fiber of my being screaming no as Alice reached for him. His tiny fingers curled around my hospital gown, and his soft baby sounds made something roar inside me.

“Please,” I whispered. “He’s still nursing. He needs—”

“Luna Fiona says the child comes with me now.”

Alice’s voice had changed since yesterday. No more “Yes, Luna” or careful bows. Now she looked at me like I was beneath her.

So this was how quickly respect died. One word from Fiona and I became trash to be swept away.

I tightened my grip. “He’s my baby!”

“Not anymore.” Alice grabbed his blanket and tugged, but I held him tighter.

Liam started crying—that sharp newborn wail that went straight through me. My body responded before my mind could, milk letting down, breasts aching to comfort him.

Even my body knew he belonged with me. Why couldn’t they see it?

Uma stepped forward, her face twisting with pain as she stepped between us. “Alice, stop. He’s crying!”

At least someone still cared about my son’s pain.

“Are you questioning Luna Fiona’s direct orders?” Alice snapped.

Uma’s face went white. I saw the exact moment she remembered her place—orphan, dependent on pack charity, one wrong move from exile. She froze completely, tears running down her face.

And there it was. Fiona’s power reaching even my only friend, forcing her to choose between helping me and saving herself.

Alice pushed Uma aside and stepped forward, but I turned away, sobbing as I shielded Liam with my body. Red was seeping through my gown where the stitches had torn. The pain hit like fire, but I didn’t care. They could take my blood, my life—just not my baby.

Let me bleed to death right here. At least then Liam would know his mother fought for him.

My arms shook from blood loss, muscles weak from labor, so when Alice pulled harder, I couldn’t hold on. She pried my fingers loose one by one and my weakened body couldn’t fight her.

I was such a failure.

“Stop struggling. You’re making this harder.”

“He doesn’t understand!” Tears burned my eyes as Liam’s cries grew desperate. “He doesn’t know why his mother isn’t holding him!”

“He’ll get used to it.”

She lifted him from my arms. I lunged forward, forgetting about stitches and blood loss and dignity. My knees hit the floor hard, but I crawled toward them, reaching for the crib Alice was wheeling away.

This was what dying felt like. This emptiness where my heart used to be.

Uma knelt beside me, her own tears falling. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

I reached for her desperately, and we held each other on the cold floor, both of us sobbing.

Uma helped me back to bed despite my resistance. My body had given up, even as my heart screamed to keep fighting.

“The rejection ceremony is tomorrow,” she said quietly.

Tomorrow, Ulysses would make official what he’d already decided—that I meant nothing.

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

“After that…”

“After that I’ll have nothing left.”

“You’ll have your life.”

“Will I?” I looked at her through blurred vision. “What’s life without everything that makes it worth living?”

Uma had no answer for that.

My milk had soaked through the front of my gown—my body still trying to feed the baby who wasn’t there.

That night, I didn’t sleep. I lay awake listening for Liam’s cries, but the thick walls swallowed any sound. Somewhere in this building, my son was learning that his mother had abandoned him. Tomorrow, that lie would become official truth.

At dawn, Uma helped me dress in the simple black gown required for rejection ceremonies. My hands shook as I braided my hair.

Black. Like I was going to my own funeral.

My reflection showed a stranger—hollow cheeks, dark circles, hair limp from blood loss. I looked like death.

Perfect. I looked exactly like I felt.

I dragged my broken body to Ulysses’s office, the walk draining what little strength I had left, but I had to get this over with.

Ulysses stood behind his desk, not bothering to look up when I entered. He couldn’t even give me the courtesy of eye contact for our ending.

“Sit,” he said coldly.

I remained standing. “Let’s just get this over with.” I wouldn’t sit like a scolded child. I’d take this blow standing.

He finally raised his eyes—cold, decided, like he’d already forgotten three years of sharing a bed with me. “Fine.”

No hesitation. No doubt. He’d made up his mind about who I was, and nothing I could say would change it.

“I, Alpha Ulysses of Thunderstrike Pack, reject you, Hazel, as my mate and Luna.”

There it was. The final nail in my coffin.

The bond snapped like a whip. Pain ripped through my chest until I doubled over gasping, but the physical agony was nothing compared to the hollow ache spreading through my heart.

He’d thrown me away without a second thought. Without even trying to find the truth.

“I reject you too, Ulysses,” I whispered. He flinched, his hand going to his chest, but his face stayed stone cold.

I held his gaze even as tears blurred my vision. “Look at me, Ulysses. Look at what you’ve done. Did I really mean nothing to you all these years?”

But he did not look at me, staring at the wall instead of my eyes. 

“You meant nothing, Hazel,” he said, but his voice cracked on the last word.

My feet carried me past our old bedroom, and through the door, clear as daylight, I heard Liam crying.