They didn't take me back upstairs.
Instead, two guards flanked me down the east corridor of the estate and guided me straight into the pack healer wing. The suite was spacious and clean, but the heavy iron latch on the outside of the door made its true purpose obvious.
By the next morning, the story was already circulating among the household staff. Lady Elara had returned home exhausted from travel, suffering from prenatal fatigue, and required absolute bed rest under the care of pack healers.
When the door clicked open, Victor stepped inside, holding a clipboard with medical intake forms.
"I want my phone," I said, standing by the edge of the mattress. "I want my driver's license, my car keys, and my purse."
Victor didn't look up from the paperwork. "You'll get your personal effects back when your emotions settle and you start cooperating with this family."
"I am not a prisoner, Victor."
"You are an expectant mother who needs supervision," he replied, setting the board down on the small table near the window. "You'll stay in this wing until the delivery. The healers will monitor your vitals twice a day."
For years, I had shrunk under his gaze. I had apologized for things I never did, desperately trying to earn a shred of his approval.
This time, I didn't beg. I didn't cry.
I looked him straight in the eyes and kept my voice level and cold.
"My mate will come for me."
Victor stopped. For a second, the room was completely silent, and then a harsh bark of laughter broke from his chest.
"Your mate?" He shook his head, looking at me with genuine amusement. "That stray from the northern woods?"
He took a step toward me, his sneer deepening.
"Three years, Elara. In three whole years, that man has never set foot across my border. He never offered a formal bride price, never introduced himself to the Silver Crest council, and never showed his face to your parents. You ran off with an outcast who lives on frozen dirt."
"You know nothing about Lucian," I said through clenched teeth.
"I know he is a coward," Victor snapped. "He knows what Silver Crest represents. If he had any real power or lineage, he would have claimed you publicly. Instead, he hides in the north. He won't dare set foot on my land. And even if he showed up at my gates, my enforcers would tear him apart before he took three steps."
The door swung wider, and Celeste strolled in, carrying a vase of fresh white lilies. She set them on the bedside table and turned to me with an expression of manufactured pity.
"Victor is only being realistic, Elara," Celeste said softly. "You need to think about the reality of your situation. Even if your mate cared enough to look for you, what kind of life could he give this child?"
She smoothed down the front of her tailored blouse, tilting her head.
"Lucian lives like an exile. If he truly loved you, he would want his son to grow up with status, resources, and a respected name. A pup raised by a rogue in the wilderness is nothing. Here, he will be an heir to an established territory."
"He is not yours to claim," I said.
"He will be," Celeste replied with an easy, confident smile. "And deep down, you know it's for the best."
Victor gave a curt nod toward the door. "Rest, Elara. Breakfast will be brought in shortly."
They walked out together, and the heavy bolt slid shut from the exterior with a sickening thud.
I stood in the center of the room, my hands shaking. They had no idea who Lucian really was. They saw only what they wanted to see—an easy target to exploit.
I took a deep breath, forcing my racing pulse to slow. I needed to keep my strength. Lucian had given me three days, and I had to protect my baby until then.
I turned to the small duffel bag the guards had tossed onto the armchair. Unzipping the side pocket, I reached inside for the silver metal pill case.
My fingers brushed against empty fabric.
I pulled the bag open completely, dumping the contents onto the bed. My spare clothes and toiletries tumbled out, but the case was gone.
The pregnancy scent stabilizer was nowhere to be found.
Panic flared in my chest. Because I couldn't trigger my wolf form, my body struggled to naturally balance the potent Alpha scent Lucian had marked me with. During pregnancy, that bond scent intensified drastically. Without the daily stabilizer Lucian’s apothecary prepared for me, the hormonal imbalance could throw my system into severe distress.
I slammed my hand against the wooden door. "Open this door!"
The latch rattled, and the door swung open. My mother stood in the hallway, holding a fresh stack of towels.
"Where is my medication?" I demanded, blocking her path. "The silver case in my bag. Who took it?"
Mother pushed past me into the room, setting the towels on the dresser with irritating calm.
"I took it," she said.
"Give it back to me right now."
"I threw it into the incinerator," Mother replied, turning to look at me without an ounce of remorse. "Some unverified northern concoction in an unmarked tin? We have no idea what herbs or chemicals were in those pills. I'm not going to let you ingest random substances and poison Celeste's baby."
"That is my prescription!" I screamed, the rage tearing through my throat. "It's a stabilizer! Because I can't shift, my body can't regulate an Alpha's mating mark while pregnant! Without it, my scent receptors will collapse!"
Mother scoffed, waving her hand dismissively.
"You always were dramatic, Elara. You just want an excuse to cling to that rogue's scent. Our pack healers have overseen dozens of successful births. They will provide proper vitamins once you calm down."
"You don't understand what you just did—"
"Enough," Mother cut me off, her tone hardening. "Lie down and stop screaming. You're raising your blood pressure, and that isn't good for the child."
She turned around, stepped into the corridor, and pulled the door shut behind her. The lock engaged once more.
I leaned against the wall, my chest heaving as dread settled deep into my gut.
By nightfall, the consequences began.
It started with a dull ache in my lower back, followed by a sharp, burning heat spreading beneath my collarbone where Lucian’s mark rested. Without the medication to filter the intensity, my scent spiked violently, filling the small room with a heavy, unstable sweetness.
Then came the cramps.
A vicious, tightening pain gripped my lower abdomen, sharp enough to steal the air straight from my lungs.
"Ah!"
The agony pulled me down. My knees struck the hardwood floor as I doubled over, wrapping both arms around my stomach.
Cold sweat broke out across my forehead. My vision blurred around the edges, the room spinning as another contraction ripped through my belly.
"Help..." I gasped, trying to reach for the edge of the bed. "Someone... help me..."
The sudden surge of distress scent must have alerted the guards in the hall. The door flew open with a loud bang.
Footsteps rushed inside.
"Elara!"
Mother hurried into the room, dropping down onto her knees beside me.
For one fleeting, foolish fraction of a second, an old childhood memory flared in my mind. A tiny, desperate piece of me reached out toward her, hoping for a mother's comfort, hoping she would hold me and tell me everything was going to be fine.
Mother's hands clamped firmly onto my body.
She didn't look at my pale face. She didn't check my pulse, wipe the sweat from my brow, or look into my tear-filled eyes.
Her hands pressed hard against the tight curve of my belly, frantically feeling for movement.
"Is the baby okay?" she asked, her voice tight with panic as she stared down at my stomach. "Is he moving? Did you hurt the baby?!"
I looked up at her, my breath trembling in my throat.
The physical pain in my abdomen burned fiercely, but inside my chest, the last lingering ember of love I held for the woman who birthed me went completely cold.
