Hiding the Truth, how can they hide the pregnancy, it may not be noticeable now because it's still small but how about as it grows? It's as if Felicia and Nana's mind were in sync.If the pack finds out, they will kill him and take away her child.The thought grips Felicia’s chest like a tightening vice, suffocating her as she paces the healer’s dimly lit chamber. Shadows dance along the wooden walls, flickering in the candlelight, but they do nothing to ease the weight pressing down on her. Every breath she takes feels heavier than the last, as if the air itself has turned thick with dread.She clenches her fists, her nails digging into her palms. This cannot happen.A child linked to a Lycan?No one can ever know.Felicia’s mind races, calculating every possibility, every threat. If the Alpha or the elders get even a hint of this, Nana will be dragged before them, accused of treason against the pack. They won’t care about circumstances or fate’s cruel hand. They will see only one th
But the stress of hiding it takes a toll on Nana.Before the sun is fully up, she forces her aching body up from the straw mat herself. Her limbs feel heavy, like stones pressing down on her, her back throbs with a pain that will not fade. Her body is no longer just hers, and she no longer gets to forget that—the exhaustion haunts her skin, seeps into her bones.Slowly exhaling she braces herself against the cold air of the morning.No one will care if she is tired. No one will care if she is in pain.She is nothing here. Less than a maid. And if she does not work, she will not eat.Her fingers tremble slightly as she reaches for the ragged dress folded at the edge of her mat. She pulls it over her thin frame, wincing as a sharp pain shoots through her waist. It’s unbearable some days—worse than anything she has ever felt. And yet, she cannot complain.She cannot show weakness.No one must suspect.She presses a hand against her stomach, feeling the slight curve beneath the fabric. It
The corridors of the packhouse are unnervingly silent at this hour, but the healer knows better than to feel safe. Silence never means safety; it means watchfulness. The kind that hides in the dark, just anticipating your mistake.Yet she moves carefully with her cloak pulled tightly around her and her pouch close to her body. She feels the weight of what she carries, heavier than it should, as if the herbs pressed on her ribs, reminding her that she is taking a great risk.Nana is getting weaker. Three months have passed and the signs are already there. The fatigue. The sharp, unbearable pains. How her body shrinks into herself, like she’s fighting something that’s bigger than she could ever hope to overcome herself.She gets to the servant quarters and pauses just outside of Nana’s space. It is stale and thick with the scent of unwashed cloth and the dampness in the walls. Far from the warmth and luxury of those that belong here, this part of the packhouse is neglected.Nana’s on be
Before the woman reveals herself, however, the scent of perfume hangs thick in the packhouse strong and almost too strong-an overpowering floral scent that permeates the air, clashing with earthy musk of the pack. The warriors at the entrance stiffen, exchanging glances before one of them lowers his head in forced respect.Eleanor has arrived.She does not wait to be told to step inside. She walks past the guards with her head tipped high and contempt in her eyes as she surveys the interior with disdain.The big hall is quieter than the usual sounds, those who know her well had been wise enough to keep their distance. The rest feel the energy around and shy away.Every footstep creates an echo on the freshly-polished wooden surfaces as she strides towards the center wing where Melissa is more likely to be sleeping. She removes her gloves, tugging at them slowly, her lips curling with satisfaction.The guards positioned at the staircase hesitate. One of them finally clears his throat.
Eleanor doesn’t attack Nana openly—instead, she quietly strips her of the little privileges she had left.Nana realizes it almost immediately. The small things—her meal portions growing smaller, the extra blanket she had to keep out the chill vanishing overnight, suddenly she was asked to move to another room and her room reassigned to another maid, forcing her into a colder, damper corner of the servants’ quarters. Each change is subtle, calculated, enough to make her life increasingly unbearable without drawing outright attention.She clenches her fists, swallowing down the resentment bubbling inside her. She knows exactly who is behind it.“She’s toying with me,” Nana mutters under her breath, dragging the heavy bucket of water toward the main hall. The packhouse is eerily quiet at this hour, only the faint crackle of torches lighting the corridors. Her arms ache, muscles burning from days of overwork.“You can’t let this get to you,” Lana, her wolf, murmurs in her mind, the words
Nana struggles with the absence of Lowell, unable to feel his presence for the past four months. Her pregnancy is beginning to show, but her small frame keeps it less noticeable. Fear and doubt set in—is he dead, or has he left her? Her eyes are fixed on the ceiling as she rests on the chilly mattress. The lantern's feeble glow creates long shadows on the walls in this poorly lit room. She has a subconscious tendency of trembling when her hands are on her stomach. Under her lax clothing, the bump is tiny and almost visible yet it is there, developing, and undeniable. "Lowell..." She mumbles, her voice barely coming as a whisper. She tries calling through their mindlink, there is no answer. There never is.She had tried reaching him through their bond, tried calling for him in her mind. In the beginning, there had been hope—hope that he was just out of reach, that something was blocking their connection. Or maybe just the distance keeping them too far apart to hear each other. But
Nana is dragged out of her room, without explanation she is taken to the dungeon.Felicia screams, struggling against the guards holding her back. “Please! She has done nothing! She’s been quiet, obedient—why this? She’s weak! She fainted just yesterday! She won’t survive down there!”The guards don’t respond. Their expressions remain stiff, emotionless. The weight of Marco’s order hangs over them like an unbreakable chain.Felicia turns her tear-streaked face to one of them. “At least tell me why! What has she done?”The man holding her arm finally speaks, his voice devoid of sympathy. “It’s the Alpha’s order.”Felicia’s breath catches. “Then let me speak to him! I’ll kneel! I’ll beg—”The second guard yanks her away, dragging her from the entrance of the underground prison. “Go back to your quarters, old woman.”Even though she knew, no matter how much she begs, they won’t listen or hear her pleas, in the past when Marco abused Nana, she had tried to intervene but it never goes well
The dungeon seems to be thriving with motion; it roars with snarls that are low and guttural and go through thick stone walls. Shadows shift, feral eyes glinting in the darkness, the bodies ready to tear her apart. The rogues move with a bond-bestial hunger overtaking any vestige of sanity. Nana does not feel threatened. She does not budge. The pressure churns in her stomach, spreading like fire blistering through her veins. Strength runs through her, raw and untamed, giving her sensations unlike any she'd felt before. It’s not her own. It’s something deeper. Older. A force that doesn't belong to her but has chosen her nonetheless.The rogues lunge.Her body moves before her mind catches up. Her bones crack, stretching, twisting. A painful shift—one she hasn't experienced in so long. It rips through her like an unstoppable force, her body succumbing to the change.Lana emerges from within her, for so long she has wanted to come out but was too weak.A monstrous snarl erupts from h
For months, she had tried to escape, pushing her body beyond its limits, clinging to the desperate hope that she could flee before Marco carried out his plans. But every attempt ended the same way.The first time, she had tried to sneak out when the guards changed their shifts, waiting until the guards grew too comfortable under the assumption that her swollen belly made her weak and she couldn’t run. She attacked, clawing through flesh, feeling the surge of power from the unborn child inside her. The strength was intoxicating, giving her an edge she never had before. She had ripped through three guards before her body betrayed her. The power vanished in an instant, leaving her limbs heavy, her breath shallow. She collapsed right outside the gate, and before she could drag herself any farther, Marco’s men seized her, dragging her back inside like a wounded animal.After that, security doubled. The guards became ruthless, watching her with cold, unreadable eyes. Still, she tried again.
The room is dimly lit and Nana sits her back pressed against the cold wall. Her arms are wrapped around herself, hugging herself for poor comfort. But there is no comfort. Only the crushing weight of despair.The only sound in her world is the crack swearing of the lantern in the corner. There’s no movement, and air is heavy with the smell of rotting wood and stale air. She’s spent so many nights like this, desperate to wake, to open her eyes, but where is she?But tonight, something is different.A flicker.She doesn’t hear it, she doesn’t see it. But she feels it, a whisper, too close to the edge of her mind, and too close to dying. A strange warmth washes over her, faint but undeniable and her breath hitches as it happens.Her heart pounds.It is impossible.It cannot be real.She thought that it was lost… severed and too far gone… yet the bond riles within her, weaker but there.Lowell.She closes her eyes, continuing to squeeze and willing the sensation to stay, to get bigger, to
The smell of herbs in the air reminds Felicia of the warm bowl of soup she is supposed to serve Nana as she moves down the narrow hallway. She’s been thinking so much, she makes her way to Nana’s room, the guards by the door no longer even bother to look at her, they’ve seen her so often that they do not even look at her anymore.Nana sits by the window and looks up to the night sky, inside. The exhaustion is written on her forehead, her face pale. She doesn’t turn when Felicia enters, she doesn’t feel the need. Not caring whoever it is that enters.Felicia sets the tray down on the table. “You need to eat.”Nana remains silent.Felicia sighs and walks closer, lowering her voice. “This is the third meal you’ve ignored today. You’re getting weaker.”“I don’t care,” Nana murmurs.Felicia stiffens. “You should care. You’re not just fighting for yourself anymore.”Nana’s fingers tighten around the fabric of her dress. “I can’t do this, Felicia. I can’t stay here and let them use my child.
Marco tightens security around Nana, ensuring she cannot escape. This time, there are no weak points—she must give birth under his watch, whether she wants to or not.She is trapped. Even the thoughts of escape have become impossible.The walls of her confinement feel smaller every day, suffocating her with their cold silence. The packhouse hums with life outside her room, warriors moving through the halls, maids whispering in the corners, but none of it reaches her. She is not part of them. She never was. Now, more than ever, she is an outsider, a breeder for the Alpha's heir, her child's sole purpose for being born is for the heir.The thought of it kills her everyday, she prays every time for the moon goddess to send Lowell to her alive.Guards stand at every exit, their presence a constant reminder that she is nothing more than a prisoner. She recognizes some of them—warriors who once fought beside Lowell. But their loyalty has shifted. Now, they answer only to Marco. Their faces
Marco steps into the packhouse, his presence commanding as the guards standing in the hallway instantly straighten. The air is thick with tension, whispers dying the moment he passes. His expression is unreadable, but his sharp eyes scan the room as if already sensing something is amiss.The moment he enters the war room with his Beta, Stephen. His Gamma and the others were waiting. His clothes are slightly disheveled, the scent of travel and blood clinging faintly to him. He had just returned from searching for Lowell as they divided the day they went out into the forest to look for him, and from the dark look on his face, Marco can already guess he found nothing.Marco doesn’t greet him. There’s no need, they already know what happened to him. Instead, he turns to Gregor, one of his senior guards, standing rigidly with his hands clasped behind his back.“Report,” Marco orders, his tone leaving no room for hesitation.Gregor hesitates anyway. His jaw clenches slightly before he final
The healer of the pack rests her palm against Nana’s abdomen, fingers quivering as they feel the faint yet definite energy within. She inhales sharply, eyes growing wide with disbelief. The quiet of the room thickens. The nearby nurses exchange furtive glances, sensing something is terribly wrong or worse—something beyond anything they would have expected.“She is pregnant,” the healer whispers in a breath.The words are like a stone thrown into the calm water. One of the nurses gasps, another covers her mouth in shock. It takes only a second before the weight of the revelation starts to spread.A maid, standing at the doorway with a pile of bloodied linens, stiffens. Her eyes darts from Nana’s unconscious body to the healer. “Pregnant?” she echoes, her voice sharp with curiosity. “Are you sure?”The healer swallows, composing herself. “There is no doubt. She is carrying a child.”The whispers begin almost immediately. One nurse leans toward another, murmuring under her breath. “It mu
The dungeon seems to be thriving with motion; it roars with snarls that are low and guttural and go through thick stone walls. Shadows shift, feral eyes glinting in the darkness, the bodies ready to tear her apart. The rogues move with a bond-bestial hunger overtaking any vestige of sanity. Nana does not feel threatened. She does not budge. The pressure churns in her stomach, spreading like fire blistering through her veins. Strength runs through her, raw and untamed, giving her sensations unlike any she'd felt before. It’s not her own. It’s something deeper. Older. A force that doesn't belong to her but has chosen her nonetheless.The rogues lunge.Her body moves before her mind catches up. Her bones crack, stretching, twisting. A painful shift—one she hasn't experienced in so long. It rips through her like an unstoppable force, her body succumbing to the change.Lana emerges from within her, for so long she has wanted to come out but was too weak.A monstrous snarl erupts from h
Nana is dragged out of her room, without explanation she is taken to the dungeon.Felicia screams, struggling against the guards holding her back. “Please! She has done nothing! She’s been quiet, obedient—why this? She’s weak! She fainted just yesterday! She won’t survive down there!”The guards don’t respond. Their expressions remain stiff, emotionless. The weight of Marco’s order hangs over them like an unbreakable chain.Felicia turns her tear-streaked face to one of them. “At least tell me why! What has she done?”The man holding her arm finally speaks, his voice devoid of sympathy. “It’s the Alpha’s order.”Felicia’s breath catches. “Then let me speak to him! I’ll kneel! I’ll beg—”The second guard yanks her away, dragging her from the entrance of the underground prison. “Go back to your quarters, old woman.”Even though she knew, no matter how much she begs, they won’t listen or hear her pleas, in the past when Marco abused Nana, she had tried to intervene but it never goes well
Nana struggles with the absence of Lowell, unable to feel his presence for the past four months. Her pregnancy is beginning to show, but her small frame keeps it less noticeable. Fear and doubt set in—is he dead, or has he left her? Her eyes are fixed on the ceiling as she rests on the chilly mattress. The lantern's feeble glow creates long shadows on the walls in this poorly lit room. She has a subconscious tendency of trembling when her hands are on her stomach. Under her lax clothing, the bump is tiny and almost visible yet it is there, developing, and undeniable. "Lowell..." She mumbles, her voice barely coming as a whisper. She tries calling through their mindlink, there is no answer. There never is.She had tried reaching him through their bond, tried calling for him in her mind. In the beginning, there had been hope—hope that he was just out of reach, that something was blocking their connection. Or maybe just the distance keeping them too far apart to hear each other. But