CHAPTER 3

Clara’s POV

The sound of the key scraping inside the lock made my heart jump into my throat.

Damien moved like a shadow. In one split second, he rolled off me, scooped his sweatpants from the floor, and stepped into them. He grabbed my arm and pushed me toward the door, his eyes wide and alert.

"Hold the latch," he commanded in a harsh whisper. "Do not let anyone inside."

Before I could ask where he was going, Damien unlocked the window latch and slipped out onto the narrow stone ledge outside, disappearing into the dark night.

I grabbed the heavy blanket, wrapped it tightly around my naked body, and lunged for the door just as the knob twisted. I threw my weight against the wood, holding the bolt in place with both hands.

"Who is it?" I called out, trying to keep the panic from cracking my voice.

"Clara? It is me," my mother’s tired voice came through the thick wood. "Open the door, sweetheart. I thought I heard a strange cry coming from your room."

My breath hitched. The scent of Damien’s musk, my sweat, and our spent passion hung thick and heavy in the air. If she took one step inside, she would know everything.

"I am fine, Mom," I said quickly, pressing my forehead against the cold wood. "I just had a terrible nightmare. I woke up screaming."

"Are you sure?" my mother asked softly. "You sound out of breath."

"I am just shaken up from the dream," I replied, forcing my voice to stay steady. "I am going to get a glass of water and try to sleep. You should go back to bed. Alpha Garrick said tomorrow is a big day for the pack."

My mother sighed on the other side of the door. "Alright. Garrick is already pacing downstairs waiting for the sunrise. The Redmoor delegation is arriving early to finalize the mating match for Damien. Make sure you are up by seven to help serve breakfast."

"I will," I said. "Good night, Mom."

"Good night, Clara."

I listened to her soft slippers pad down the hallway until her bedroom door closed. 

I let out a long, shuddering breath and rested my head against the doorframe, my knees trembling so hard I could barely stand. 

A quiet breeze rustled the curtains behind me. Damien stepped back through the window, his bare feet making no sound as he landed on the hardwood floor. He shut the glass pane and latched it, his broad shoulders tight with tension.

I turned around to face him, clutching the blanket against my chest. The warmth of his touch was still lingering on my skin, and some foolish part of my heart hoped he would reach out and pull me into his arms.

"Damien," I said softly, taking a step toward him. "She is gone."

Damien did not look at me. He reached over and clicked on the small lamp on my bedside table. 

Warm light spilled across the unmade bed, illuminating the rumpled white sheets. 

Damien’s gaze dropped to the center of the mattress, and his entire body went rigid. 

Right where we had been lying together, bright and undeniable against the white fabric, was a large smear of fresh crimson blood.

The air in the room instantly turned ice cold. 

Damien stared at the blood, his golden eyes wide with pure shock. The warmth and wild affection that had filled his face minutes ago vanished completely, replaced by a pale, frozen mask.

"You were a virgin," Damien said. His voice was completely flat, drained of all emotion.

"Damien, it is okay," I whispered, reaching out to touch his arm. "I wanted it to be you. I have wanted you for three years."

Damien recoiled from my touch as if my fingers were made of hot iron. He backed away from the bed, his chest heaving as he dragged both hands down his face.

"This is wrong," he muttered, his voice cracking with sudden fury. "This should never have happened, Clara. Do you have any idea what you just did?"

"What I did?" I asked, hurt slicing through my chest like a knife. "You came into my room, Damien. You locked the door and took off my clothes."

"Because I lost my goddamn mind," Damien snapped, his voice dropping into a harsh, vicious hiss. "You are my stepsister. You live under my father's roof. My mating ceremony with the Redmoor heir is happening in four weeks. If the elders find out I took your innocence in this bedroom, my reputation and my title as Alpha heir will be destroyed."

"So that is all I am to you?" I asked, tears finally blurring my vision. "A threat to your title?"

"You are a mistake," Damien said, looking directly into my eyes without a shred of mercy. "A filthy mistake that never should have happened. We pretend this night never existed. Do you understand me? We do not look at each other. We do not speak. You will act like a proper stepsister and keep your mouth shut."

"And if I cannot just forget how you touched me?" I whispered, my voice breaking.

"Then you better learn fast, Clara," Damien said coldly, turning his back on me. "Because if you ruin my future with the Redmoor Pack, I will make sure my father throws you and your mother out into the rogue lands."

He unlocked the bedroom door, stepped out into the dark hallway, and pulled the door shut with a quiet, final click.

I sank down onto the bloodstained sheets, burying my face in my hands as the sobs tore through my chest. He had taken the one thing I had saved for years, used my body until he was satisfied, and then discarded me like trash.

Five weeks passed.

Five long, agonizing weeks of pure torture. 

Every single day in the packhouse was a living nightmare. Damien treated me like I was invisible. When we sat at the long dining table with Garrick and my mother, his eyes looked straight through me. Whenever I walked into a room, he walked out. 

I told myself I was over it. I told myself I hated him.

Then my body began to change.

It started with a strange, heavy exhaustion that made it hard to get out of bed. Then the smell of the packhouse breakfast began to turn my stomach into painful knots. 

When my cycle was two weeks late, a terrible, suffocating dread settled into my bones.

Early on a Tuesday morning, while the entire pack was at the training grounds, I locked myself in the small bathroom on the first floor. My hands shook violently as I opened the white box I had bought in secret from the human pharmacy three towns over.

I followed the instructions, set the plastic stick on the edge of the sink, and slid down to the cold tiled floor. 

I wrapped my arms around my knees, counting every single agonizing second while my heart hammered against my ribs. 

Five minutes felt like an eternity.

I finally forced myself to stand up on trembling legs. I stepped over to the sink and looked down at the small rectangular window on the white plastic.

Two bright, solid pink lines stared back at me.

Positive.

A gasp tore from my throat as I clamped both hands over my mouth. 

I was carrying a baby. Damien's baby. 

My stepbrother's child was growing inside my womb, and he was set to mate another woman in less than two weeks.

Before I could even process the horror, the front door of the packhouse slammed open with immense force, shaking the walls.

"Alpha Garrick!" an enforcer’s panicked voice roared from the front foyer. "The Redmoor delegation has arrived, and Lady Seraphina demands an immediate pack assembly to expose a traitor in this house!"