CHAPTER 10

The sterile white walls of the Havenfall private clinic burned under the harsh fluorescent lights. Zack’s eyes drifted open, the rhythmic, mechanical ping of a heart monitor echoing the throbbing behind his skull. Plastic tubes snaked from his inner elbow, tethering him to a chrome stand.

Nathan sat in a high-backed leather chair by the bed, his dark suit wrinkled, his jaw dusted with shadows.

"What happened?" Zack’s voice was a dry rasp.

"High fever. Dehydration," Nathan said, his voice like grinding stones. He reached out, his thumb grazing Zack’s cheek before he pulled back as if burned. "You fought me like a feral cat in that bathroom. You ended up putting your head through the vanity mirror."

Zack’s pulse spiked. The monitor betrayed him with a rapid, frantic beat. He remembered the struggle—the desperate need to keep Nathan away from the truth. Nathan stared at the screen, his eyes narrowing.

"Relax. The scans didn't show any permanent damage," Nathan muttered. "Just a concussion and some stitches. You’re lucky you didn't crack your skull wide open."

"What did the doctors say?" Zack pressed, his fingers twisting in the stiff hospital sheets. Did they see it? Did they find the heartbeat?

"They said you’re lucky. Whatever bug you picked up drained you so fast your body started shutting down. They’re pumping you full of saline and glucose. We go home tonight." Nathan stood up, towering over the bed. His shadow swallowed Zack whole. "And once we’re back, we’re having a talk about this. The biting, the hiding. You were out of line, Zack."

"Biting?" Zack squeaked, pulling the blanket higher.

Nathan nodded, a grim ghost of a smirk ghosting his lips. "You went for blood. You’re lucky I don't charge you for the suit you ruined."

Zack sank into the pillows. Despite the coldness, a traitorous warmth bloomed in his chest. Nathan had saved him again. The man who was supposed to reject him in a week had spent the night in a hard chair watching his vitals.

"Thanks," Zack whispered. "For... everything. These last three years. I wouldn't have made it out of that basement without you."

Nathan’s expression shuttered instantly. He stepped back, his hands sliding into his pockets. "Don't get sentimental. It was an assignment, Zack. A job."

The words were a bucket of ice water. Of course. The Durand heir didn't do charity; he followed orders from Julian. Zack watched Nathan walk out to find the discharge papers, the silence in the room suddenly deafening.

He had to know what the charts said. Zack waited until the hallway cleared, then swung his legs over the side of the bed. His head swam, the floor tilting, but he gripped the IV pole and shuffled toward the door.

He caught a young doctor in a white coat near the nurse’s station.

"Excuse me," Zack hissed, pulling his gown closed. "Am I your patient?"

The doctor looked up, surprised. "Mr. Moreau? You should be lying down."

"Please. I need to know. Alone." Zack leaned against the wall, his breath coming in short bursts.

The doctor gestured toward a quiet corner of the hall. "Is something wrong?"

"My husband... he said it was just a fever. But the tests. Did you find anything else?" Zack’s heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird.

The doctor smiled gently, his voice dropping. "Don't worry. The baby is perfectly fine. The fall didn't affect the pregnancy."

The air finally returned to Zack’s lungs. "Thank God. But... Nathan. You didn't tell him?"

"No," the doctor said. "Mr. Durand brought you in convinced it was a virus. As long as you aren't in a coma, your medical records are private. You’re my patient, not him. It’s your call when he finds out."

"Thank you," Zack breathed, a dizzying relief washing over him.

"But listen," the doctor’s tone sharpened. "This isn't just morning sickness. You have a severe complication—hyperemesis. You’re going to lose weight. You’re going to be weak. You’ll likely be back here before the first trimester is over."

Zack nodded shakily. "I'll be careful. I’m leaving the city soon anyway."

"One more thing," the doctor added, looking cautious. "You only have until week twelve to keep this a secret. By then, your hormone levels change. Your scent, your pheromones... any Alpha-type male within five feet of you will know you’re carrying. Nathan will smell it on you."

Zack went numb. He hadn't known. He was a Volana, but his education had been stunted in a basement. He only had a few weeks of invisibility left.

He turned to head back to his room, but a flash of white stopped him cold. Madeline stood halfway down the corridor, her face a mask of frozen horror. She’d heard it all.

Zack approached her, his hand white-knuckled on the IV pole. They stood at the top of the grand marble staircase of the private wing.

"You’re pregnant," Madeline whispered, the words sounding like a death sentence.

"Yeah," Zack said, his voice hardening. "But Nathan isn't going to know. I’m leaving after the ceremony. If you keep your mouth shut, you get your life back. You get him back."

"Why hide it?" Madeline shook her head, her eyes darting around. "He’d never let you go if he knew he had an heir."

"That’s exactly why," Zack snapped. "I’m not staying as a walking incubator for a man who doesn't want me."

Madeline’s face twisted. "You’ve stayed for three years while he didn't want you. Why the sudden pride? You’re lying. You’re going to use that kid to chain him to the Cocolink throne forever."

"The marriage wasn't my choice, Madeline. I was a kid."

"There’s always a choice!" Madeline hissed, stepping closer. Her eyes turned into slits. "If that child is born, it’s the Durand heir. My children will be nothing. They’ll have no claim. The Volana blood makes your kid a god in this syndicate."

"So what?" Zack challenged. "You want me to kill it?"

"If you loved him, you would," she spat.

Zack recoiled. "You’re insane. You’re not worried about Nathan. You’re worried about your own seat at the table."

"Is that your final answer?" Madeline’s fingers suddenly clamped onto Zack’s arm like iron talons.

"Get off me!"

"Then you leave me no choice." Madeline lunged, her weight slamming into Zack as she tried to hurl him toward the stairs.

Zack reacted on instinct, throwing his weight back toward the wall. He tore his arm free, his feet sliding on the polished floor. He landed hard on his tailbone, the IV stand crashing down beside him with a deafening metallic ring.

Madeline lost her balance. She teetered on the edge of the top step, her arms windmilling as her heels slipped. For a heartbeat, her eyes met Zack’s—filled with raw, naked terror. Then she tipped.

Her body hit the first landing with a sickening thud, then tumbled down the long, winding flight in a blur of white silk and blonde hair.

Zack scrambled to his feet, gasping for air, looking down at her crumpled form at the bottom. Before he could scream for help, Madeline’s screeching voice echoed up the stairwell.

"He pushed me! Zack pushed me!"