I tried to lift myself up, but just as I moved, the wooden door suddenly burst open. A golden-furred warhound shot into the room, its tail wagging wildly.
It was Alpha Cole’s battle companion.
Usually, it was gentle as a ball of fluff—but that day, it lunged straight at me, slamming into my abdomen.
I had no time to brace myself. My weakened body, still recovering from wounds, couldn’t resist the blow. A searing pain ripped through my belly like a claw tearing me open. My vision blurred; even the air seemed to splinter beneath the weight of agony.
Blood soaked rapidly through my clothes, a spreading warmth of despair beneath me.
For a moment, I froze—then realization struck.
Two months ago, Alpha Cole’s mother had hinted that I should give the pack an heir. That night, he had been uncharacteristically gentle, and he hadn’t used any contraceptive potion.
I had foolishly believed it was a sign—a fragile hope flickering within the ruins of our bond.
Now, that pain had shredded both the illusion and the tiny life that never had a chance to be welcomed into this world.
I collapsed to my knees, my fingers clawing at the cold stone floor.
My teeth clenched, the taste of blood thick in my mouth, and I screamed hoarsely, “Help… someone, get a carriage!”
Guards rushed in, panicked, lifting me into their arms. My head hung limp as the metallic scent of blood filled the air.
The carriage sped through the streets, wheels thundering against the frozen ground.
“To the healer’s camp! Hurry!”
The pounding hooves echoed like thunder—until the carriage jerked to a halt.
“Madam,” the driver’s voice trembled, “the road ahead is sealed… by Lord Alpha Cole’s command. It’s Miss Diana’s birthday ceremony tonight. He’s closed the roads for her fireworks display.”
Fireworks were bursting above us, coloring the night sky in cruel brilliance.
Each explosion reflected in my tear-blurred eyes—beautiful, merciless, like a celebration of my ruin.
My blood seeped into the carriage seat.
Our love was buried beneath those lights.
I closed my eyes, trembling as I tore off the bond ring from my finger. The silver band—the symbol of our vows—spun through the air, tracing an arc of light before vanishing into the dark.
“Enough…” I whispered.
I wanted none of it anymore—no marriage, no love.
When I awoke again, the sharp scent of herbs filled the world.
The healer bowed her head, her voice heavy. “Madam, you haven’t eaten for days. Your body is too weak… it couldn’t withstand the strain of pregnancy. The child… couldn’t be saved.”
I stared blankly at the top of the fur-draped tent, then slowly reached toward my abdomen.
It was empty.
That should have been our child—the last fragile thread holding this shattered union together.
Tears slipped down silently, each drop sharper than any scream.
Perhaps the baby had already sensed the fracture in our bond, and chose to leave early—
to escape this pack that had long since lost its warmth.
The healer sighed softly. “You must rest. Where is your mate? He should be here with you.”
I swallowed the storm rising in my throat, forcing my voice into flat, colorless calm.
“I have no mate.”
Silence fell, heavy and suffocating. Then I asked quietly, “What’s the shortest time I can stay here?”
“Three days,” she answered.
“Three days will be enough.” I nodded. That was the deadline I gave myself.
And just then, the flap of the tent lifted open.
