70

ALINA

I opened my eyes slowly, blinking against the soft light filtering in. The first thing I saw was the doctor watching me with a strained kind of worry, like she was waiting for something terrible to happen.

My head throbbed. My eyes felt dull and heavy. For a second, I thought I was still dreaming. I hoped, actually. Or maybe I’d slipped back into yesterday. Maybe I’d wake up again and nothing would be wrong.

But everything was still wrong.

And it wasn’t a dream.

“Oh, good, you’re awake.” The doctor exhaled, her shoulders slumping in visible relief. “You scared me there for a moment.”

I didn’t respond. I was still waiting for her to laugh and to say she was joking or that there was a mixup. That this was all some kind of bad misunderstanding. But she didn’t.

Instead, her face softened, lips pressing together before she spoke again. “You shouldn’t be worrying yourself, okay? It’s not good for you. Or…” she hesitated, “for the baby.”

That confirmed all my greatest fears. I froze.

Every muscle in my body locked up. My tongue felt thick. The air in the room changed. Stale. Heavy.

The words sat in my ears like poison I couldn’t spit out.

She didn’t… she didn’t just say that.

But she did.

I couldn’t even feel my chest rising or falling. I didn’t have the strength to cry. I just stared at her, blinking as if that would make her vanish. As if blinking would reset the world.

She took a cautious step toward the bed, eyes flickering over my stiff body. “Do you need a moment?”

I couldn’t answer. My brain had shut down.

She gave a slow awkward nod, pointing at the door. “Alright. I’ll step out for a bit. But please don’t do anything reckless, okay? If you want to talk about anything I’ll be nearby. The Alpha knows how to reach me.”

I flinched at that word.

Alpha.

Alexander.

Before she could step out fully, my voice scraped past the lump in my throat. “Wait…”

She turned, hopeful. “Yes?”

“Can you… not tell him?” My voice cracked as the words tumbled out too fast, too desperate. “Please. Please don’t tell Alexander.”

She blinked, visibly torn. “Alina—”

“Just until I figure things out.” My eyes burned as I begged her silently. “Please.”

A long pause. Then she sighed. “Alright. I won’t say anything. But not forever, okay? He’ll find out eventually and it’s better if it comes from you.”

I didn’t answer.

She left quietly.

And the moment the door clicked shut, I grabbed a pillow, shoved it over my face, and screamed.

The cry burst out of me.

I wanted to cry, but it was like my body had used up all its panic. All that was left now was a cold, sharp terror.

I curled in on myself, hands over my stomach.

How could I be so stupid?

How could I let this happen?

Except I knew how it happened. Knew exactly whose child I was carrying. I wasn’t sure when. We’d been reckless, getting lost in how good everything felt m. We didn’t… I didn’t even think.

All those late nights I let him touch me like I belonged to him.

And now I was carrying his child.

A Lycan’s child.

Terror curled around my spine, squeezing my lungs.

What would he do?

That was the only question echoing in my head.

What would Alexander do when he found out?

Would he be angry? Would he see me as trying to trap him? Would he accuse me of manipulation? Would he hurt me?

Would he take the child from me?

I didn’t know. That was the worst part. I didn’t know.

Alexander was not like anyone I’d ever known. He could be possessive, volatile. Cold. Unreadable. But he was also gentle with me when he wanted to be.

Still, I wasn’t stupid enough to trust that part of him would win out.

That this baby could change everything.

And I had no idea what that meant for me.

I sat there, staring at my hands, wondering what kind of future I’d just signed us both up for. Mine and this tiny, innocent thing growing inside me.

God.

The fear twisted into something else then. A flicker of instinct.

What if my werewolf side showed during pregnancy? I didn’t know how Lycans acted when they were pregnant. This might explosive me. I had to do something.

I had to protect my baby.

From Alexander. From his world. From everyone.

Even if it meant running and disappearing. I wasn’t sure how I would achieve that.

I didn’t know how far I’d have to go. Or how I’d even start. But the fear in my chest was quickly being replaced by resolve.

I had to get out. Before he found out.

I moved on autopilot, pacing the room until the air felt too thick to breathe.

The only thought in my mind was how I needed to get out. I needed fresh air. I needed to think.

I walked to the door and opened it, only to walk straight into a wall of muscle.

Familiar arms wrapped around me, his scent clouding my senses before realty crashed hard.

Alexander.

My breath caught.

He steadied me, his hands warm on my waist as he gently squeezed. “Easy,” he murmured. “Where are you rushing off to?”

My pulse jumped. I tried to swallow the nerves in my throat.

He didn’t know yet.

“I—” I choked. “I just needed—air.”

He raised a brow, studying me too closely. “You already look better,” he said, a note of approval in his voice.

I forced a nod.

Whatever kept him calm and whatever kept him from looking too hard at me. I needed it to do more.

“Good,” he said again. “We need to talk. About what happened last night.”

My stomach dropped. The floor felt like it tilted under me.

Right. That.

I had forgotten all about that.

This was another fire to walk into.

Couldn’t I catch one damn break?