Chapter Four

Three months crawled by in the dungeon.

Three long, rotting months of silence, cold, and the steady unraveling of Amber’s mind.

She no longer recognized the sound of her own voice. She hadn’t spoken to anyone... truly spoken in weeks. Only the low muttering she sometimes caught herself doing, just to remind herself she was still real.

That she was still alive.

Her cell was a tomb—damp, pitch-dark except for the narrow slit near the ceiling where a thread of light sometimes snuck in. The stone floor bit into her knees when she knelt too long. 

The chains were gone now, they realized they didn’t need them. She had nowhere to go. No strength left to run.

Her body had withered. Her hair hung in greasy knots around her hollow face. 

Her eyes, once full of fire, were now sunken and dull, shadowed with dark circles and hopelessness.

The only visitor she had was the maid—young, silent and always avoiding Amber’s gaze. She came twice a day, sliding in a rusted plate and bowl without a word.

Stale bread. So hard it had to be soaked in gruel just to bite through.

It wasn’t food, just a means to survive.

Still, it was through her—through overheard mutters and hasty whispers that Amber learned the truth.

Alpha Kyle had been buried. Laid to rest with ceremony and song.

Bella was Luna now. And she was pregnant. 

With Damon’s child.

That crushed her more than Damon's betrayal ever could.

Damon hadn’t come. Not once. No explanation. No mercy.

She didn’t know if he had forgotten her or if he had simply chosen not to remember.

And then, another three months bled by.

The changes in her body were impossible to ignore now.

Her belly swelled, heavy beneath her rags. 

Her back ached. Her ankles throbbed. She knew the signs.

She was carrying Damon’s child.

And everyone knew. But no one cared.

She lay curled on the floor one night, rubbing her stomach, whispering things she hoped the baby couldn’t hear.

That it wasn’t its fault.

That she would love it.

That somehow, she would survive.

And then came the sound—footsteps.

But not the maid's. These were sharper. Slower. Deliberate.

The bolt scraped back with a hiss, and the door creaked open.

Amber blinked against the sudden light. Her breath caught in her throat.

Bella.

Radiant. Dressed in silk. Her belly rounded beneath a velvet gown.

She stood at the door like a queen, eyes gleaming with cruel delight.

“Well,” Bella prompted, voice like honey laced with poison. “Look at you. Still alive... and already breeding like the mutt you are.”

Amber didn’t speak. 

She couldn't. Not with how weak she'd gotten.

She just pulled the threadbare cloth tighter around her stomach, heart pounding.

Bella stepped closer, crouching just enough to look her in the eye.

“Did you think he’d come for you?” she whispered, smiling. “He’s mine now. I’m everything you’ll never be. Luna. Mother of the next heir. Loved.”

She glanced down at Amber’s swollen belly and scoffed.

“Whatever that is, it doesn’t matter. No one will ever know it existed. I promise you that.”

And then she turned, her heels clicking sharply against the cold floor as she vanished into the dark.

Amber was left staring at the door, hand resting on her belly, tears spilling down her face like a fountain.

She wasn’t just imprisoned.

She was forgotten.

Left to rot in the cell.

Bella's last words clung to the etches of her mind; "No one will ever know it existed. I promise you that."

Amber felt fear grip her at her words.

What had she meant by that? She thought, rubbing her stomach protectively as the tears escape her eyes.

Another three months went by.

The days blurred together in a haze of silence, pain, and growing weight beneath her ribs. Amber’s belly was round and heavy now, taut beneath her tattered rags. 

Every breath felt harder. 

Every movement slower. 

Her ankles were swollen, her back constantly aching. But still, no one came.

And then one morning, the maid appeared as usual. But this time, she didn’t slide in a plate of stale bread and lukewarm gruel.

Instead, the scent of something rich and warm filled the cell—steak, lobster, and a steaming cup of fresh coffee.

Amber blinked at the meal, confused. Her cracked lips parted. “W…why? Why are you giving me this?”

The maid hesitated, fingers clenched nervously around her apron. “I... I stole it. From the kitchen. I just… I waited you to have something decent.”

Amber’s voice was hoarse but gentle. “Thank you.”

For a moment, the maid's eyes softened. Something flickered across her face—guilt, maybe. But just as quickly, it vanished.

“It’s nothing,” she mumbled, already backing away. “I... I should go.”

She fled before Amber could say more.

Alone again, Amber stared at the tray. The food looked extravagant. Luxurious. The kind of meal she hadn’t tasted in months. She reached for it with trembling hands, savoring every bite, though something about the flavor was off. The meat tasted strange—slightly sour, with a slick, greasy texture. But she forced it down.

She didn’t know when or if, she’d eat like this again.

An hour later, the pain began.

It started low in her stomach, a twisting cramp. Then came the nausea. The heat. The sweat. She curled forward, gasping.

“Help!” she cried out. “Somebody help! My baby!”

Her vision swam. The pain in her gut was unbearable, like fire blooming inside her. Her hands wrapped around her belly, trying to soothe it, to protect the life inside.

Her water broke.

The cell floor went wet beneath her. Panic flooded her veins.

“It’s coming,” she gasped. “Goddess, it’s time, my baby is coming!”

Footsteps thundered down the hall. The maid returned, breathless, eyes wide with fear as she knelt beside Amber.

“What’s wrong, my lady?” she asked, voice shaking.

Amber grabbed her hand, gripping with what little strength she had left. “My baby! It’s coming! Please, get a midwife. Hurry!”

The girl bolted.

Moments later, she returned with an elderly woman, her hair tied back, eyes sharp with years of experience.

The woman knelt beside Amber, checking her pulse, her pupils, the tremble of her hands.

She froze.

Her face paled.

“You’ve been poisoned,” she whispered.

Amber let out a ragged cry, clutching her stomach. “Please… just save my baby. Please.”

The old woman nodded grimly and got to work, pulling cloth from her satchel, setting her tools.

But before she could begin, another maid burst into the cell, breathless and urgent.

“Alpha Damon sent for you. The Luna... she’s in labor. He says come now.”

The midwife’s eyes widened. Her hands hovered in hesitation.

Amber’s voice cracked. “No. No, please. Don’t leave me!”

But the old woman’s gaze was already shifting. Orders from the Alpha weren’t to be ignored. Not even for this.

She gathered her things in silence. Took one last look at Amber. One last flicker of pity.

And then she was gone.

Amber screamed after her

, voice hoarse and breaking. “Please! Come back! Don’t leave me!”

But the door slammed shut behind her, leaving Amber alone on the cold stone floor, trembling, crying.

Alone.