Chapter Three

Through the haze of agony, I heard his footsteps retreat. Heard Morgana’s sobs soften into something almost like satisfaction. The front door opened and slammed shut, taking him with it.

And I lay there on the cold marble floor of the house I’d made a home, bleeding onto expensive rugs I’d picked out myself, my body curling around the life I was losing, understanding with terrible clarity that the man I’d loved had never existed at all.

He’d been a ghost I’d conjured from hope and loneliness. A beautiful lie I’d told myself for so long I’d forgotten it wasn’t real.

The babies. My twins. Our twins.

I pressed my hand harder against my stomach and felt the wetness there, warm and damning, and something inside me broke that had nothing to do with my body.

Everything I’d sacrificed. Everything I’d given up. My family. My sister’s funeral. My father’s disappointment. My mother’s tears. All of it abandoned for this—for a man who’d just kicked his children out of existence because they had the misfortune of being mine.

⸻

The rain was relentless, each drop hitting my skin like tiny accusations. I lay where Kieran had thrown me a few minutes later, helpless and too weak to do anything but just sob.

The street was empty, dark except for the occasional sweep of headlights that never slowed down.

My hands pressed against my stomach, trying to hold everything together even as I felt it slipping away. I felt a warm wetness between my legs, mixing with rain, and instantly knew it was my blood.

“No, no, no.” The words came out in gasps between sobs. “Please don’t leave me. Please stay. I’ll protect you, I promise. I’ll do better. Just please don’t leave.”

My babies. I was losing my babies.

My phone was clutched in my shaking hand, screen cracked from the fall but somehow still glowing. I scrolled through contacts I hadn’t looked at in seven years, names I’d convinced myself I didn’t need anymore. My thumb hovered over one name. Just one.

I pressed call.

It rang once. Twice. Three times. Maybe she’d changed her number. Maybe she wouldn’t answer even if she recognized mine. Maybe I deserved that.

“Hello?”

The elderly voice cracked something open in my chest. I tried to speak but only managed a choked sound.

“Hello? Who is this?”

“Auntie.” It came out barely a whisper, broken and desperate. “Help me.”

The world tilted sideways, then everything faded to black.

White. That was the first thing I noticed when I opened my eyes.

Everything was white. The ceiling, the walls, the sheets tucked tight around my body. For a moment, I wondered if I’d actually died on that street corner. If this was heaven, or maybe just the waiting room before judgment.

Then I heard sobbing.

I turned my head—slowly, because even that small movement made my skull ache like mad—and saw her. Aunt Meredith sat in the chair beside my bed, her gray hair pulled back in that same neat bun she’d worn my entire childhood, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs.

She held a rosary in her weathered hands, the beads clicking softly as her fingers moved over them.

She must have sensed my movement because her head snapped up. Our eyes met. For one second, relief flooded her face. Then it hardened instantly into fury.

She stood and crossed to my bedside in three long strides. “If you weren’t strapped to this hospital bed right now, I would give you the spanking of your life.”

Despite everything—the pain, the fear, the gaping hole where my heart used to be—I smiled. Even that hurt. “Hello to you too, Auntie.”

“Don’t you ‘Auntie’ me.” She jabbed a finger at my chest, careful not to actually touch me. “Do you have any idea what you put me through? When I tracked your phone and found you lying there in the rain, unconscious, bleeding…” Her voice cracked. “If I’d arrived even ten minutes later, you’d be dead. Dead, Khione.”

“Thank you.” My voice was hoarse, barely recognizable. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course I came.” She pulled the chair closer and sat down heavily. “You’ve been stupid—incredibly, magnificently stupid for seven years, throwing away your entire family for that worthless man we all warned you about. But you’re still family. Still my precious niece.”

Tears burned behind my eyes. I didn’t deserve her. Didn’t deserve any of them, not after what I’d done.

She reached out and cupped my cheek with surprising gentleness. “I’ve already contacted your parents.”

My heart stuttered in my chest. My parents. The Primal Alpha and his Luna. The two people I’d disappointed most when I ran away in the middle of the night seven years ago, leaving nothing but a note saying I’d chosen love over duty.

I’d grown up knowing exactly who I was supposed to be.

The only child of the Primal Alpha, born with the silver wolf—a genetic rarity that marked me as the true heir. Every day of my childhood had been structured around that single purpose: become strong enough, wise enough, and powerful enough to rule continents one day.

Combat training at dawn. Political theory with lunch. Diplomatic etiquette before dinner. Languages, history, pack law, and territorial negotiations.

I’d learned to fight in both wolf and human form before I’d learned to drive. I could recite the lineage of every major Alpha family going back five generations.

I knew exactly how to hold myself, how to speak, and how to command a room full of ancient wolves who’d been alive longer than most countries.

But I’d never learned how to just be. How to exist without the weight of an entire continent’s future pressing down on my shoulders. How to want something for myself instead of for my people.

Then I’d met Kieran at some inter-pack gathering I’d been forced to attend. He’d been nobody special—a low-ranking wolf trying to make his way in business. But he’d looked at me like I was just a woman, not a dynasty. Like I was someone worth knowing for reasons that had nothing to do with bloodlines or power.

For the first time in my life, I’d felt like I could breathe.

So I’d run. Abandoned everything they’d built for me, everyone who’d invested in my future. Dyed my silver hair dark, suppressed my wolf, and pretended to be nothing more than a common Omega. I’d convinced myself that love was enough, that choosing my own path was brave rather than selfish.

And look where it had gotten me.

The door opened, pulling me from the bitter memories. A doctor in blue scrubs entered, clipboard in hand, her expression professionally neutral. “Ms. Thorne, you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

“Like I was run over by a bulldozer.”

Her expression tightened almost imperceptibly. “Your aunt filled me in on the situation. I’m sorry you’re going through this.”

I nodded because what else could I do? Then a different kind of panic seized my chest, sharp and immediate. My hand flew to my stomach.

“My babies.” The words rushed out. “Are they—did I lose them?”

The doctor moved to the monitors beside my bed, checking readings I couldn’t interpret. She took her time, and every second that passed felt like years as I waited for the verdict.

“Your twins are stable.” She finally turned back to me. “If you didn’t have Alpha blood yourself, Ms. Thorne, they wouldn’t have survived the trauma. But they’re tougher than they look. Strong. Your body protected them even when it was shutting down.”

The relief hit so hard I couldn’t breathe around it. They were alive. My babies were alive.

“However.” The doctor’s tone shifted. “You’ve suffered significant internal bruising, three cracked ribs, and a concussion. You’re going to need complete bed rest for at least two weeks, and I want to monitor the pregnancy closely going forward. Any more trauma like this…” She didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t need to.

“I understand.”