Chapter Five

Back at the pack house, chaos reigned beneath a veil of tense silence.

The news about the Luna had spread like wildfire, that she was in labor.

Every corridor buzzed with hushed voices. 

Pack members lingered just outside the Queen’s quarters, pacing, whispering, praying. Inside the chamber, the air was thick with pain, fear, and the scent of blood and incense.

Alpha Damon sat by Bella’s side, gripping her hand tightly. She lay sprawled across the bed, her body wracked with labor pains, her face slick with sweat.

“Everything will be fine,” Damon whispered, his voice low, reassuring. “You’ll be alright.”

But his eyes betrayed him—sharp with worry, rimmed with sleeplessness.

Suddenly, the doors burst open.

A maid hurried in, followed closely by the midwife. Damon surged to his feet, rage flashing in his eyes.

“What the hell took you so long?” he snapped. His voice cracking across the room like a whip.

The midwife flinched but didn’t stop moving. “Forgive me, my Lord. I... I was with Miss Amber. She’s in labor too.”

Damon froze.

A flicker of something crossed his face—shock, maybe. Guilt, perhaps. But it vanished as quickly as it had come.

“It doesn’t matter,” he barked. “Tend to my wife. Now.”

The old woman nodded, rushing to Bella’s side and pulling clean cloths and tools from her satchel. Her voice was calm, but firm.

“Just breathe, my Queen. You’re doing well. I’ve got you.”

Bella glared at her, panting. “I don’t need your useless words, just deliver my baby!”

The midwife didn’t flinch. She had seen far worse.

“Push, my Queen. Nice and steady. Just like that.”

Bella bore down, teeth gritted, hands clutching the sheets in a death grip. Her screams echoed through the halls as the pain tore through her.

Then finally—relief.

The midwife caught the child in her arms, cradling it gently as she wiped it clean.

But something was wrong.

Very wrong.

The room, so full of tension just moments before, suddenly felt too quiet.

No cries. No newborn’s wail. Only silence.

Bella’s chest rose and fell rapidly, her eyes wide with panic.

“Why… why isn’t she crying?” Her voice cracked. “What’s wrong with my baby?”

The midwife’s smile faded. Her eyes scanned the child with growing urgency. She leaned down, rubbing the baby’s chest, clearing its mouth, checking for breath.

Still nothing.

“No... no, no,” Bella whimpered, sitting up. “What’s happening? Give her to me!”

But the midwife turned away quickly, working with trembling hands, desperate to coax life into the child’s body. She pumped the tiny chest. She whispered ancient prayers.

Then, after a long, unbearable pause, she turned.

Her face was pale. Her voice broken.

“I… I’m sorry, my Queen,” she whispered. “The baby… the baby didn’t make it.”

For a moment, the room stood still.

And then—

“No!” Bella’s scream tore through the mansion. A raw, piercing sound full of agony and disbelief. “No! She was fine! She was fine, she was moving!”

She thrashed forward, trying to reach for the baby, but Damon rushed in just then, drawn by her screams.

He took one look at the midwife’s face. At the lifeless bundle in her arms.

And something inside him shattered.

“What happened?” he demanded, eyes wild. “What happened?!”

The midwife bowed her head. “She wasn’t breathing. I... I tried everything, my Lord.”

Bella’s sobs pierced through the tension. “You said everything would be fine! You promised me, Damon!”

He stood frozen, caught between his own grief and hers, staring at the still, silent form of the child he’d expected to be his heir.

The midwife laid the baby down gently, wrapping her in soft cloth. Her hands were shaking.

And somewhere deep in Damon’s mind, beneath the storm, a single, chilling thought crept in.

Amber.

  - - -

Amber tore a strip of cloth from her ragged dress and shoved it between her teeth, biting down hard. Her hands clutched the cold iron bars, knuckles white and trembling as pain surged through her body like fire.

Her scream tore through the corridor, raw and broken, echoing off the stone walls like a dying hymn.

Time blurred. Sweat soaked her body. Her body trembled with the effort, until finally, the first cry pierced the silence.

Amber gasped, barely able to sit upright as she caught the newborn in her arms. A girl, her skin warm, her lungs strong as her cries filled the cell.

But it wasn’t over.

A second wave of pain ripped through her. 

More sudden.

More vicious.

Moments later, another baby slipped into the world, but this one was quiet.

Amber fumbled weakly, barely able to lift her hands as she brought the second baby close. A boy. But he didn't cry.

His skin was pale, with faint green lines tracing across his tiny body, a mark of the poison that had been meant to end her before her labor.

Amber pulled both babies close, cradling them against her chest. Her lips pressed to each of their foreheads, whispering soft prayers over and over.

"You're safe. You're okay." She breathed, tears slipping down her cheeks. "You're here now. Everything's going to be okay. Mummy is going to protect you now."

She didn’t name them.

Couldn’t. Not when she wasn't sure how they were going to survive.

Just then, the iron door slammed open, and Damon stormed in, his strides purposeful. The midwife followed closely, her face pale and unreadable.

He stopped cold at the sight before him.

Amber... barely conscious, her back against the wall, both newborns cradled in her arms.

His gaze lingered on her, and for the first time in a long time, something broke through the cold mask he wore.

Guilt.

Doubt.

Uncertainty.

For a heartbeat, he seemed unsure.

Then he looked down at the babies, and his eyes went wide with shock.

Twins. He hadn't expected this.

His jaw tightened.

Still, he said nothing.

He stepped forward and without warning, ripped the healthy baby from Amber’s arms.

“No!” she screamed, her voice raw, tears escape her eyes. She tried to rise but collapsed instantly, her arms outstretched. “Please... please, Damon, not again... give her back! Haven’t you done enough?”

But Damon didn't answer

Didn’t look at her.

He just stood there, holding the crying child in his arms.

Then, at last, he spoke.

“Your punishment has been altered. You will not be executed.”

Amber froze.

“You’ll live,” Damon continued. “But you’ll live the rest of your days down here. In this dungeon.”

He turned without another word.

The midwife followed, bowing deeply.

Amber’s screams echoed after them, shattering the silence once more.

“Stop! Damon, stop! Don’t take her... please... Stop!"

But he didn’t stop.

Didn’t flinch.

Didn’t even look back.

The door slammed shut behind them.

And Amber was left alone, with the poisoned twin weakly breathing against her chest, and nothing but the cold stone and her screams for company.