Chapter 11

Sienna's POV

The sharp, sour taste hit the back of my mouth before my eyes even opened.

I scrambled out from beneath the heavy furs, my knees hitting the cool wooden floorboards with a dull thud. I grabbed the wide clay bowl Gideon kept by the foot of the frame, doubled over, and heaved until my throat burned. Nothing came up except stomach acid and bile, but my body kept shaking, my stomach knotting into tight, painful cramps that left me gasping for air.

Outside the small glass pane, the early morning light was pale and grey. The heavy rain from weeks ago had long cleared, leaving only cold, quiet fog hanging low over the pine trees.

I leaned my forehead against the rim of the bowl, taking slow, shuddering breaths through my nose. My whole chest felt raw.

"Take it easy, child," a quiet voice said from across the room.

Gideon walked over, his soft leather boots making almost no sound on the floor. He set a wooden cup of warm water next to me, then picked up a dry rag from the washstand. He didn't rush me. He just stood there calmly, waiting until the hard retching stopped and my breathing slowed down.

"Drink a little," he whispered. "Wash out the bitterness."

I took the cup with two hands, my fingers trembling so badly the water sloshed over the side. I rinsed my mouth, spit into the basin, and swallowed a tiny sip. The liquid felt like ice hitting an empty furnace.

Three weeks had passed since the old healer dragged me out of the mud by the creek. Three weeks of quiet days, warm soups, and herbal teas. The fever that nearly killed me during my escape was completely gone, and the deep, raw tear in my chest where the mate bond used to hum had scabbed over into a dull, quiet ache.

I thought I was just recovering from the cold. I thought my weak stomach was just from the heavy herbs Gideon gave me to clear my lungs.

But as I sat on the floor with my knees pulled up to my chest, a sudden, heavy stillness settled over my heart.

The morning sickness hadn't stopped. For seven straight days, every dawn brought the exact same violent wave of nausea. My breasts were tender, swollen, and aching under my plain wool shift. And when I pressed my right palm flat against my lower belly, just below my belt line, I felt a strange, quiet warmth radiating beneath my skin.

My breath hitched.

"Gideon," I said, my voice barely a whisper. I looked up at the old man, my dark eyes wide with a mixture of terror and overwhelming wonder. "It's... it's not the fever, is it?"

Gideon pulled up his wooden stool and sat down in front of me. His weathered face was soft, his brown eyes kind as he looked at my trembling hand resting on my stomach.

"No, Sienna," he said gently. "The fever left your blood a fortnight ago."

"Then why do I feel like this every morning?" I choked out, a hot tear slipping down my cheek and dripping off my chin. "Why can't I keep any food down?"

Gideon reached out, placing his large, calloused hand over mine. His palm was warm, steady, and grounding.

"You know why," he said quietly. "Your body is changing because it's protecting another life. You are carrying a child."

Hearing the words spoken out loud made my heart slam against my ribs like a trapped bird.

A pup. Jaxson's pup.

The night in the Alpha tower came rushing back into my mind, bright and painful. I remembered his heavy body pressed against mine, his dark scent of cedarwood filling my lungs, his low voice whispering into my skin before everything turned into a nightmare of rejection and shame. He had given me that bitter Moon-tea to wipe away every trace of that night. He had wanted me empty, useless, and gone before his new bride arrived.

I had poured his potion down the sink. I had chosen to keep whatever was left of us.

And now, far away from the Bloodmoon packhouse, deep in the silent woods where no one could hurt me, that tiny life had taken root.

"Is... is the baby okay?" I asked, my throat tight as I gripped Gideon's hand. "After the cold? After I fell down the hill near the stream?"

"The pup is strong," Gideon replied, a tiny, reassuring smile touching his lips. "It survived the storm, the icy river, and the fever. It has your strength, little one."

I let out a long, ragged breath, burying my face in my hands as the tears finally came spilling out. I cried for the lonely weeks I had spent sweeping the lower floors of the packhouse. I cried for the cruel words Jaxson had spat at me in front of the elders. But most of all, I cried out of sheer relief.

I wasn't completely alone anymore. The pack had thrown me away, my Alpha had abandoned me, but I had something of my own now—something no council or treaty could ever take from me.

Gideon stood up, moving back toward the stone hearth. He picked up a wooden spoon and stirred a pot of porridge that was simmering over the gentle fire, filling the room with the sweet smell of oats and maple syrup.

"You need to eat," he said, turning back to look at me. "Even if it's just a few spoonfuls. You are feeding two now."

I wiped my wet cheeks with the back of my sleeve and slowly pushed myself up off the floor. My legs were a little shaky, but the cold fear that had gripped my chest all morning was starting to melt away, replaced by a quiet, fierce determination.

"He tried to get rid of it," I murmured, stepping over to the table and pulling out a chair.

Gideon paused, looking at me over his shoulder. "Jaxson?"

"He brought the mug to the washroom himself," I said, staring down at the polished wood of the table. "He stood in the doorway and watched me hold the cup. He called the baby a complication. He said a child with my blood would ruin his alliance with Alpha Vane."

Gideon’s jaw tightened, a dark flicker of anger passing through his old eyes before he smoothed his expression over. He set a bowl of warm porridge in front of me, along with a clean wooden spoon.

"A man who fears his own blood because of political titles is no real Alpha," Gideon said flatly. "He chose his throne. You chose your child."

"I don't ever want him to know," I said, my voice turning hard, stripped of all the weak weeping from before. I looked up, meeting the old healer's gaze directly. "If he ever finds out I'm alive... if he ever discovers I'm carrying his heir, he will try to take the baby from me to protect his reputation. Or his new Luna will try to destroy it."

"He won't find you here," Gideon said, his tone absolute. "The Bloodmoon trackers don't cross into these hills. They think this forest is full of wild beasts and killer rogues. They won't come looking for an Omega they think died in the storm."

I picked up the spoon, taking a small bite of the porridge. It was warm, sweet, and settled easily into my empty stomach. The sudden wave of sickness that had ruled my morning began to fade, leaving behind a deep, steady calm.

"I have to get stronger," I said, looking down at my hands. They were pale, thin, and calloused from years of hard work, but they were steady now. "I need to learn how to hunt, how to gather herbs, how to take care of myself without a pack."

"You will," Gideon promised, sitting across from me with his own mug of hot tea. "I'll teach you everything I know. But first, you eat, you rest, and you let your body build a home for that pup."

I nodded, swallowing another spoonful of oats.

For the first time in my life, I wasn't waiting for an Alpha to tell me what to do. I wasn't waiting for permission to exist. I was just Sienna—a mother, hidden in the mountain woods, carrying a secret that would change everything if it ever came to light.

I rested my left hand back on my belly, feeling the soft, faint pulse beneath my skin.

You're safe now, I thought quietly, sending the warm feeling straight down into my womb. Your father turned his back on us, but I will never let anyone hurt you.

Outside the cabin door, the morning sun finally broke through the gray fog, casting bright, warm golden rays across the wooden floorboards at my feet.