CHAPTER EIGHT

SIX MONTHS LATER

~ELARA~

THE LAST FEW months went by in a blur since I was pardoned by Marcel. The pack members did not change how they viewed or treated me. I was still a Grogel, their hated enemy—but what changed was the size of my stomach. It had gradually grown bigger, until now it was the size of a watermelon.

"The scent of those might end up making you nauseous." A voice called out to me.

I was crouched among the herbs behind the cabin, running my thumb over a blossom I could not name, when a voice came from behind me. I turned to see Jane walking towards me. I smiled warmly, but I still plucked the flower I had been caressing.

Jane had been my only friend since the day I was abducted. She had taken me in against her brother's wishes, and she was the only person in this pack I could speak to freely.

"I will try to keep my meals in my stomach," I smiled back at her as she linked an arm through mine, and we walked out into the street.

The pack was settling here in the mountains. Timber houses were going up along new lanes, and the people who had spent their lives moving were learning what it meant to stay in a place.

"Gamma Jane, good morning," Some people at work greeted as we passed, but they still sent me murderous stares.

"They will come around soon," Jane muttered to me. "They can't keep up this hostile act forever."

I swallowed and nodded.

They did not need to keep it up forever, I thought to myself. I would give birth in less than two months, and my mind often kept wondering what would come next after that.

Marcel made it clear that the only reason I was kept alive was because of the Moon Goddess's law to not harm a pregnant woman. What would happen when I was no longer pregnant? What would happen to my child?

You worry too much, my wolf Freya popped into my head. She had grown stronger and more vocal over the past few months here, even though I had not shifted in months due to my condition.

"And you worry too little," I muttered back at her.

"What was that?" Jane asked, looking at me. "My days, you look awfully pale. Are you sure you are alright?"

I nodded. "I'm alright."

"Come, this walk is too hectic for you. You must rest."

We walked on briskly and nearly bumped into the Alpha and his men. His scent reached me first—cedar and woodsmoke, and something underneath that made Freya spin in my head, like the traitor she was.

Alpha Marcel looked terrible. There were shadows beneath his eyes, dark and deep, and a rough stubble along his jaw. He looked like a man who had not slept in days.

I immediately lowered my gaze and tried to keep my fluttering heartbeat in check while Freya danced on at being close to him.

"Good morning, Alpha," I greeted. "Good morning, Beta."

As usual, Marcel ignored me completely, but I felt his gaze drift to my stomach for half a second—and suddenly, the baby kicked so hard my head snapped up and our gaze locked.

"Good morning, Elara," it was Beta Bruce that spoke. "Are you alright? You look quite pale."

Marcel looked like he wanted to take a step back to avoid being covered in my vomit should it happen again like that night in my cell.

"Prisoners do not walk unguarded," he finally spoke. His voice was rough.

"Then tell me where a prisoner may walk, Alpha." I lifted my chin. "I will keep to it."

His eyes flashed amber. "You forget yourself."

"Her condition outranks any prison law," Jane said, stepping in front of me. "She walks in the mornings because I prescribed it."

"You forget who is Alpha, sister."

"And you forget who is her doctor." Jane held his gaze. "Do you want to tell the pack you stopped a pregnant woman from taking a walk?"

Marcel's jaw worked, then he said, "Keep her within sight of the cabin," and walked on without looking back.

Bruce lingered a moment. "Rest, Elara," he said quietly and followed.

"He hates me," I said.

Jane did not say anything to that. She simply sighed and led me back home. My guard watch had lessened as my pregnancy became more pronounced. There was no way a woman in my condition could escape and survive for long in these mountains, so I didn't have anybody watching me like a hawk.

Jane went about the kitchen of our small cabin, boiling some leaves and filtering. She moved around the small kitchen, and I listened to the sounds of her work—the hiss of the kettle, the clink of the cup, the soft rustle of leaves being measured. The whole cabin smelled of a herbal mixture.

In a few minutes, she set the cup in front of me.

"Here," she said, setting the steaming cup on the table beside me. "Drink it while it's hot."

"What is it?" I asked, looking at the liquid. It was dark brown but did not smell like anything I was familiar with.

"A recipe from my grandfather." Jane sat down in the chair across from me, a book open on her lap. "He was a traditional healer. The first alpha of this pack who was not a warrior." She smiled faintly. "He was Alpha when the war happened."

I wrapped my hands around the warm cup. "I am sorry, Jane. For what my grandfather did..."

She gave me a tight smile and waved it aside. "Drink. It will calm your mind and help the pregnancy. He used to give it to the women who were carrying."

I lifted the cup to my lips and drank, grimacing at the bitter taste. "It's good," I said.

Jane smiled. "You are lying." She laughed. "Grandpapa Theo would have loved you."

I opened my mouth to talk, but no words came out as fresh pain rolled through my spine. It was nothing like the cramps of the past weeks. It folded me in half. I seized the counter with one hand and clamped the other over my belly.

"Elara!" Jane's hands were on my shoulders, her face inches from mine. "Elara, look at me. What is happening?"

I felt something warm between my legs. I looked down and saw blood running down my legs.

"Jane," I whispered. "Jane, blood..."

Jane looked down. Her face went pale, but her voice was calm as she said, "You are going into labor."

What? Labour?

But we should not be due for another two months, Freya said, panicking in my head. Our pup is still premature.

"Jane..." I groaned as I was racked by another wave of pain. "The baby... is... p-premature-e..."

"We don't have to worry about that now," she said, snatching up her phone and dialing a number. "Fuck. Voicemail."

"Elara is going into labour," she said into the phone as she assisted me out of the house and into the backdoor of her truck. "It is premature. We can't handle it at the clinic, so I am taking her to the closest hospital." She threw the phone on the passenger seat and jumped into the driver, stepping on the gas and swerving out into the road while i groaned, pressed in the backseat and trying to count the minutes between each contractions.