2

Chapter 2

Yvonne/Doctor’s Pov

I woke several hours later in a quiet hospital bed. Everything hurt. My body felt hollow, my arms trembled with utter weakness, and every ragged breath reminded me that I had nearly died bringing my babies into the world.

The moment I opened my eyes, the Healer walked into the room.

"Where are my children?" I asked, my voice cracking. "Are they alright?"

"Both are alive, Yvonne," he assured me, adjusting my IV line. "They remain in incubators because they are too small and fragile to survive without medical assistance, but they are fighters."

Relief washed over me. "I need to see them. Please, help me get up."

Before I could swing my legs off the bed, the door swung open and Ronan's assistant, Thomas, stepped inside carrying a thick leather folder.

For one foolish second, I believed Ronan had finally changed his mind.

Then Thomas opened the folder and held out a set of legal papers.

"Sign these," Thomas said without a trace of sympathy. "Alpha Ronan ordered the finalization of your rejection tonight."

I stared at the black ink on the page. Ronan had sent an assistant to end our mating bond while I was barely able to sit upright after giving birth.

The cruelty of it was almost impossible to process.

"He wants this done now?" I whispered. "I just delivered his children."

"The Alpha was very clear," Thomas replied, handing me a pen. "He also instructed me to serve you these." He placed a second document on my blanket. "These are full custody papers. Alpha Ronan is seeking sole custody of the twins."

"No," I gasped, clutching the sheets. "He can't take them!"

"He is the Alpha of the Darkmoon Pack," Thomas reminded me coldly. "You are an Omega with no wealth, no political influence, and no family backing. If you fight him in Pack court, you will lose."

For years, Ronan had used that exact threat to keep me obedient. He knew the mating bond mattered to me, but he knew my greatest fear was losing my children.

So I swallowed every insult, I endured Celeste's condescending presence.

I accepted his neglect and stopped defending myself when other Pack members humiliated me.

I sacrificed my dignity because I was terrified that one wrong move would give him a reason to steal my babies.

I looked at the rejection contract, then at the custody demand.

Lying alone in the dim light after surviving childbirth, something inside me finally broke. It was not my heart.

It was my fear.

Ronan had spent years weaponizing my love for my children against me. I was done letting him use them as leverage.

"I won't sign," I said, looking Thomas dead in the eye. "Get out."

"Yvonne, be reasonable..."

"I said get out!"

The moment the defiance spilled from my lips, my dormant wolf stirred again. The pulse beneath my ribs surged into a violent heat. My heart pounded, and suddenly, my senses sharpened.

Through the thick concrete walls, I heard the fast, rhythmic heartbeats of the nurses walking in the corridor.

I smelled the sharp antiseptic bleach two halls over. Farther away, several rooms down, I distinctly heard the soft, steady beeping of two small incubators.

I gasped as the hyper-awareness snapped off as quickly as it had arrived. I sank back into the pillows, assuming my exhausted body was simply hallucinating from fatigue.

**

In the adjacent laboratory, the Healer pulled the printed bloodline report from the scanner. His hands shook as he read the glowing screen.

The DNA carried a genetic marker exclusive to the legendary White Wolves, a pureblood strand thought to be extinct.

He cross-referenced the sequence against archived supernatural records, and the system returned a ninety-nine percent match.

The Silvercrest Pack.

Eighteen years ago, the infant princess of Alpha Darius Silvercrest and Luna Elara had vanished during an ambush. The child had been presumed dead, breaking the royal family.

The Healer compared the dates. The age matched. The bloodline matched. The rare silver-white eye reaction matched.

He even checked the hospital's physical intake log and found the small, crescent-shaped scar hidden beneath Yvonne's left shoulder, the exact identifying mark documented in old Silvercrest records.

"She isn't an Omega," the Healer whispered, clutching the file to his chest. "She's the lost princess."

A faint click echoed near the lab's rear entrance.

The Healer spun around and saw a figure dressed in scrub wear slip through the door. Before the Healer could shout, the intruder smashed the glass casing on the desk, snatched the printed bloodline report, and bolted out the fire exit.

"Security!" the Healer yelled, rushing to the hallway. But the intruder had already vanished into the shadows.

Panic seized the Healer's chest. Whoever stole the report knew exactly what it contained.

He sprinted back to his private terminal, locking the door behind him. Having already memorized the critical data, he opened an emergency, encrypted Pack communication channel reserved only for high-ranking Alpha leaders.

He typed in a direct frequency code.

Recipient: Alpha Darius Silvercrest.

The Healer hit send, transmitting a single unlisted text burst before destroying the terminal drive.

“The missing Silvercrest princess is alive. She is at the Darkmoon Pack hospital, and she has just given birth to twins.”