CHAPTER 8: The Decision

"He wants me to get rid of you. But you're mine."

The locked door stares at me like a challenge. He thinks it will keep me contained. He's wrong.

I don't sleep that night. Can't. My mind won't stop moving, circling the same thoughts over and over until they wear grooves in my brain.

Get rid of it. His words. Said so casually. Like my baby is a problem to be solved rather than a life growing inside me.

I sit on the edge of the bed with my hand pressed against my stomach, talking to someone who can't hear me yet but somehow needs to know.

"He wants me to get rid of you. But you're mine."

The words come out fierce. Certain. Something I haven't felt in three years crystallizing in my chest.

"You're mine," I say again. Louder. "And I'm keeping you."

It's the first act of defiance I've committed since I said I do. The first time I've chosen something for myself instead of choosing whatever makes Damon's life easier.

It feels terrifying.

It feels right.

I watch the sky through the window turn from black to grey to pale gold. Dawn comes slow and cold, and I'm still sitting in the same position, my hand on my stomach, my decision made.

I'm keeping this baby.

Whatever that costs me. Whatever he does. Whatever happens next.

I'm keeping my baby.

The lock clicks at dawn.

I hear his footsteps moving away from the door. Down the hall. Down the stairs. Like he didn't lock me in. Like it was for my own good. For my own protection.

I wait ten minutes before I stand. My legs are stiff from sitting all night. My eyes burn from not sleeping. But I move to the door anyway, testing it.

It opens.

Of course it does. He's let me out. Magnanimous. Generous. Giving me my freedom back now that he's made his point.

I find him in the kitchen.

With Clarissa.

They're standing close by the counter, her hand on his arm, their heads bent together in conversation. They break apart when they hear my footsteps, but not quickly. Not guiltily. Just the natural movement of two people interrupted.

Clarissa smiles at me. "Good morning, Iris. Coffee?"

I don't answer. I'm looking at Damon.

He looks tired. His eyes are shadowed, his jaw tight. Like he didn't sleep either. But his expression when he meets my gaze is hard. Ready for a fight.

"Have you thought about what I said?" His voice is calm. Controlled. Like he's asking if I've reconsidered a dinner reservation instead of asking if I've decided to terminate my pregnancy.

My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat.

"Yes."

Clarissa sets down her coffee cup carefully. The sound is too loud in the quiet kitchen.

Damon's eyes don't leave mine. "And?"

My knees feel weak. My whole body is screaming at me to back down. To give him what he wants. To make this easier for everyone.

But I plant my feet on the floor and lift my chin and say the words anyway.

"I'm keeping my baby."

The silence that follows is complete.

Clarissa goes very still. Damon doesn't move at all, just stands there staring at me like I've spoken in a language he doesn't understand.

Then he moves. Slow and deliberate, pushing away from the counter and taking two steps toward me.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm. Keeping. My. Baby." I say each word separately. Clearly. So there's no confusion. So he can't pretend he didn't hear.

His face darkens. The muscle in his jaw jumping the way it does when he's trying to control his temper.

"I gave you an ORDER."

The word comes out hard. Final. The tone he uses when he expects immediate obedience. When he expects submission.

"And I'm refusing." My voice shakes but holds. "You can't make me."

"Can't?" He takes another step. "Can't?"

Clarissa moves forward, her hand reaching toward him. "Damon, maybe we should..."

"Stay out of this, Clarissa." He doesn't look at her. His eyes are locked on mine. Cold and furious and something else underneath that I can't name. "This is between me and my wife."

Wife. He uses the word like a weapon.

"You defy me?" His voice drops lower. Quieter. "Your ALPHA?"

And then he does it. The thing I've been dreading since I decided to stand my ground.

He uses his Alpha command.

The voice that compels obedience. The voice that no omega can resist. The voice that makes my wolf whimper and cower and want to drop to her knees right here on the kitchen floor.

My whole body trembles with the effort of staying upright. My wolf is howling inside me, begging me to submit. To make this stop. To give him what he wants so the terrible pressure will go away.

But underneath the wolf's panic is something stronger. Fiercer. More primal than any command.

Mother's instinct.

The absolute certainty that I will protect this baby even if it kills me.

I stay standing.

His eyes widen. Just a fraction. Just enough to show his surprise.

No one resists Alpha command. Especially not omegas. Especially not me.

"You'll regret this." The command is gone from his voice now. Just cold promise. "I will make your life hell, Iris."

"I already regret marrying you."

The words come out before I can stop them. Before I can think better of them. The first time I've ever talked back. The first time I've ever said out loud what I've been thinking for three years.

His hand comes up. Fast. Automatic.

I flinch. My whole body recoiling backward, arms coming up to protect my face, my baby, myself.

He stops.

His hand frozen mid-air, his face going through some emotion I can't catch before it's gone. He sees what he's become. What we've become. This moment where his wife flinches away from him in their own kitchen.

Something crosses his expression. Something that might be shame or regret or realization.

It doesn't stop him.

"Fine." He drops his hand. Steps back. His voice is flat now. Dead. "Keep it. But don't expect me to claim it as mine. Don't expect anything from me, Iris. You've made your choice."

He walks past me toward the door. Doesn't touch me. Doesn't look at me. Just walks out like this conversation never happened.

The front door slams hard enough to rattle the windows.

I stand in the kitchen, shaking, my arms still half-raised in defense.

Clarissa is watching me.

Her expression has changed. The warm, concerned sister-in-law is gone. What's left is something colder. Sharper. Triumphant.

"You shouldn't have done that, Iris." She says it gently. Like advice.

"Why?" I lower my arms slowly. "Afraid of competition?"

Her smile is thin. "Competition?" She laughs. Soft and pitying. "There is no competition. You already lost."

She picks up her coffee cup and walks past me. Her shoulder brushes mine. Deliberate.

"You lost the moment he chose me," she says without turning around. "This just makes it official."

Her footsteps fade up the stairs.

I stand alone in the kitchen with morning light streaming through the windows and my hands pressed against my stomach.

"It's you and me against the world, little one."

I whisper it to the baby who can't hear me yet. The baby Damon has already disowned. The baby who has no one but me.

"You and me."

I have no idea how right I am.