Caelia’s POV
Everything unraveled in a blur.
One second I was sprinting through the edge of the territory, lungs burning, branches whipping past me—and the next, pain exploded everywhere. Teeth sank into my skin. Claws ripped through muscle. Their snarls swallowed my screams as I fell, blood streaking down my arms, my ribs, my legs, soaking into the ground beneath me.
I fought back. I really did. My wolf slammed against my chest, desperate to break free, but my body couldn’t keep up. There were too many of them. I was too slow, too weak. Every strike tore me open again, and with each wound, I felt myself fading, strength draining until the earth beneath me was slick and dark.
That was when I understood.
I wasn’t surviving this.
My vision smeared at the edges. The metallic taste of blood coated my tongue. My knees gave out, and somewhere deep inside, my wolf cried out—her voice growing faint.
This is how it ends.
Darkness swallowed everything.
---
When I woke, it wasn’t to glowing eyes or snapping jaws.
It was white walls. Blinding lights. The sterile sting of antiseptic in the air. A hospital room.
Pain radiated through my body, dulled but constant, wrapped in bandages and stitches. Somehow, impossibly, I was still breathing.
I blinked, my thoughts slow and foggy. “W-where am I…?”
“You’ve regained consciousness,” a gentle voice replied. A nurse stepped into view, her expression careful, almost mournful. “You suffered severe blood loss, but you’re stable now. You were brought in by another Alpha. He found you near the border… saved your life.”
I barely processed that before she hesitated, fingers tightening around her clipboard.
“There’s something else,” she said quietly. “You were approximately one month along. The trauma was too much. I’m very sorry—the pregnancy couldn’t be saved.”
The words didn’t make sense at first.
Pregnant?
My chest constricted as the meaning crashed down on me. I hadn’t known. There had been no signs, no warning. And now—
“No,” I breathed, clutching the sheets as if they could anchor me. “Please… no…”
The sound that tore out of me didn’t feel human. A baby. My baby. Gone before I’d even had the chance to feel it, to protect it. The pain hollowed me out, sharper than the wounds on my body. I hadn’t just lost blood that night—I had lost something irreplaceable.
The nurse rested a hand on my arm. “You need to rest. Healing takes time.”
But how did someone recover when the damage ran deeper than flesh?
---
Time blurred after that. Hours, maybe days—it all melted together.
What I did notice was the scent.
It lingered faintly on my skin, woven into the sheets, unmistakable. Alpha scent. Strong. Steady. Earth and storm and pine. It grounded me without trying.
It wasn’t Lucien.
Someone else had brought me here.
Whoever he was… why had he bothered?
With shaking fingers, I reached for my phone. If anyone should know I was alive, it was my husband. My Alpha.
I called him.
Once.
Again.
And again.
Each unanswered ring tightened the knot in my chest.
Swallowing panic, I opened my social media, hoping—desperately—to send him a message.
Instead, the screen shattered what little composure I had left.
A post. Public. Fresh.
Calista.
She stood beside Lucien, both of them relaxed, smiling effortlessly. They were on a yacht, ocean stretching endlessly behind them. His arm rested around her waist as if it belonged there.
The caption felt like a knife driven straight through me.
Counting down to our wedding ceremony.
My phone slipped from my hand.
The room closed in as I struggled to breathe. While I had been torn apart at the border—while I lost a child I hadn’t even known existed—he had been with her. Laughing. Planning a future.
I folded into myself, sobs wracking my body. I thought I’d already reached the limit of how much betrayal I could endure.
I was wrong.
---
The door flew open.
Lucien stormed inside, anger etched into every line of his face. “Why didn’t you make more of an effort to reach me when you were in danger?”
His tone cut deeper than claws ever had.
I flinched, staring at him. Words gathered in my throat and died there. What was I supposed to say? That I had screamed his name? That I had called until my hands shook and my vision blurred?
My silence only fueled his irritation. He crossed his arms, looming. “Do you have any idea how irresponsible that was? Going anywhere near the border without protection? You never think these things through.”
Something inside me finally gave way.
Even now—after everything—he wasn’t worried about me. Only about what I’d done wrong.
“So it’s on me,” I murmured, eyes fixed on the blanket. “Almost dying was my mistake too.”
He didn’t argue.
Instead, he exhaled sharply and pulled a container from the bag he carried. “I brought you something to eat.”
He opened it.
Carrot soup.
Of course it was.
Carrot—every time. Always what she liked. Always her.
My hands trembled as he lifted the spoon toward my mouth. My stomach twisted violently. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.
Before the spoon reached me, the door burst open once more.
“Alpha!” Beta Noel rushed in, panic written across his face. “Lady Calista collapsed!”
Lucien dropped the spoon instantly. No hesitation. No backward glance. No concern for me at all. He turned and left with Noel, already barking orders, his footsteps fading down the hall.
I was alone again.
The numbness that settled over me was worse than the pain. There was nothing left to shatter—only emptiness.
Then I felt it.
That scent again.
Stronger this time. Commanding. Wild pine and rain and something untamed beneath it. My wolf stirred weakly, recognition flaring, pulling toward it.
A man stood in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame, arms folded as he studied me. There was no mistaking it—he was an Alpha. His presence filled the room effortlessly, heavy and undeniable. Long dark hair framed sharp features, his expression calm but intense.
And his eyes—
They burned with something that made my heart stutter.
“Want some help disappearing from that excuse of an Alpha you’re tied to?” he asked, voice low and smooth, curling through the air.
My breath caught.
My wolf pressed forward, fully alert now, captivated.
And for the first time in years, something stirred inside my chest that wasn’t grief or pain.
It was hope.
