CHAPTER 2

Marie’s POV

Abandoned 

My eyelids felt as though they had been fused shut by salt and ice, heavy and unyielding. I struggled, my breath hitching in a throat that felt like it had been scraped raw by gravel.

When my eyes finally opened, it was a sterile, aggressive white. It pierced through my retinas, sending a sharp, pulsating ache directly to the centre of my skull. I gazed around confused wondering what I was doing in this big white wall. 

My memory was a shattered mirror, reflecting jagged, hazy images. I blinked rapidly, trying to clear the fog. Slowly, the room came into focus. It was a private suite, high in the pack’s medical wing, but it felt less like a sanctuary and more like a cage.

Then, I saw him. And the memories came rushing back. 

“My baby.”

Johnson was standing by the tall windows at the front of the room. For a fleeting, foolish second, my heart leapt. He was here. He had stayed. Maybe the near-death experience finally cracked the ice around his heart. Maybe, in the moment I went under, he realised that he couldn't lose us.

"Johnson?" I rasped, my hand instinctively reaching for my stomach, the seed of hope blossoming in my heart again. He didn't turn immediately. He adjusted his cuffs, his movements deliberate and calm. When he finally turned, he didn't look at me. His eyes were fixed on the door as it swung open, allowing a man with a heavy professional camera to slip inside.

Johnson didn't greet me. He didn't rush to my side to stroke my hair or tell me I was safe. Instead, he walked toward the foot of my bed, where the medical chart hung. He picked up the file with a practised grace, his profile catching the perfect light from the window.

"Johnson," I tried again, my voice stronger this time, though it trembled with a rising dread.

 "The baby... is the baby okay? Please, tell me he’s fine."

He ignored me. He flipped through the pages of the medical file, his expression one of no concern, a mask perfectly crafted for the lens. As it has always been. 

Click. Click-click.

The photographer crouched, capturing the "devastated" Alpha reviewing his mate's medical status. Johnson shifted slightly, tilting the file so the light hit the pack crest on the folder. He was a masterpiece of PR, a grieving leader showing strength in the face of tragedy.

 "Is my son okay?" It came out as a bare whisper. 

Still, nothing. He closed the file with a soft thud and handed it back to the nurse who had followed the photographer in. He looked at the cameraman and gave a slight, imperceptible nod.

"We have enough," Johnson said, his voice smooth and devoid of any emotion directed toward me.

 "Make sure the headline focuses on the Alpha’s tireless vigil. Use the shot where the light hits the window. It looks more... providential. And make sure you send them to Marie before you send them.”

"Of course, Alpha," the photographer whispered, scurrying out of the room.

Johnson finally turned his gaze toward me, but there was no soul in it. He didn't speak a single word of comfort. He didn't ask how I felt. He simply turned on his heel and walked out.

I let out a sarcastic laugh wondering why I even thought he would change after all these years. 

“Dr. Aris.” My voice is dim and I can’t tell if it’s because of his demeanour or the recent ordeal. 

 His face was grim, etched with the kind of lines that only come from delivering news that breaks people.

"Marie," he began, stepping closer and checking the IV line in my arm. He wouldn't meet my eyes.

"Dr Aris, please. Tell me the baby is fine. Tell me he’s just sleeping." 

He sighed, a heavy, ragged sound. He pulled a stool up to the side of the bed and finally looked at me. His eyes were full of a terrible, quiet grief.

"The drowning... it was too long, Marie. The oxygen deprivation was total. When you hit the water, your body goes into shock, and the cub’s heart... it couldn't sustain the trauma."

I shook my head, my hands clutching my stomach as if I could squeeze the life back into the stillness within me.

 "No. No, I felt him kick. I felt him right before I woke up. You’re wrong." I have no idea if I am merely trying to convince myself or let Dr Aris know the truth. 

"I'm sorry," Aris said, his voice cracking. 

"The baby is gone. He’s been gone since before they pulled you from the pool. And because of the trauma to your system, we can't wait for a natural process. The toxins are already starting to build. It’s becoming a danger to your life."

I couldn't hear him. The world had turned into a high-pitched scream that only I could hear. My son. My little cub. The only thing in this world that was actually mine was gone before he ever saw the sun.

"We have you scheduled for an induced labour, an operation to remove the remains," Aris continued, reaching for a clipboard. 

"But there’s a complication. Because you are the Alpha’s mate, pack law is very specific. For an operation of this magnitude, one that involves the potential loss of future Alpha heirs, we must have the Alpha's formal signature. He said he had a press conference."

I looked at the door Johnson had just walked through. He knew. He had read the file. He knew our son was dead, and he had used the moment to take a photo for the newspapers. He had left me here, carrying a ghost, because a press conference was more important than the dignity of my grief.

"I cannot proceed without his authorisation, Doreen. It’s the law of the Crescent Pack. Only the Alpha can sign for the Omega's medical release in cases of... loss."

I looked down at my hands. They were pale, trembling, and covered in small scratches from the pool's edge. But beneath the skin, they weren't burning with sorrow. They were burning with an icy, jagged fury.

“The document?” I reached out and snatched the clipboard from Dr Aris’s hand. My grip was so tight the wood groaned. I looked at the line reserved for the "Head of House,"

“Can I just sign the papers myself?”