I Faked My Death to Escape My Alpha

The pain in my stomach is different from the agony in my leg. Sharper. Deeper. Wrong in a way that makes my wolf howl inside me.

I can hear them above—Khloe's theatrical sobbing, Desmond's low murmur of comfort. The sounds of battle are fading, Rogues retreating into the forest. And I'm down here, bleeding into the dirt, with something vital tearing apart inside me.

*Desmond.* I try the mind-link again, weaker this time. *Please. The baby—*

Nothing. Just that wall he's built between us, solid as stone.

Footsteps crunch through the underbrush above. For one desperate second, I think it's him. That he's coming. That he heard me.

"Alpha, we need to—" Marcus's voice cuts off. "Moon Goddess. Aspyn!"

Not Desmond. Never Desmond.

Marcus slides down the ravine, his face going pale when he sees me. "Hold on. Just hold on."

He's lifting me, and the movement sends fresh waves of agony through my body. I try to tell him about the baby, but the words won't come. Everything's getting fuzzy at the edges, darkness creeping in.

The last thing I hear before I pass out is Khloe's voice, bright and cheerful: "Is everyone okay? That was so scary!"

I wake up to white walls and the antiseptic smell of the infirmary. For a moment, I don't remember. Then it all crashes back—the attack, the fall, the mind-link going dead.

My hand flies to my stomach.

Elena's there instantly, her face telling me everything before she says a word. "Aspyn, I'm so sorry. I tried everything, but—"

"No." The word comes out broken. "No, no, no."

"The trauma was too severe. Your wolf was already weakened, and the impact—" Her voice cracks. "There was nothing I could do."

Empty. I feel empty, like someone's scooped out everything inside me and left just a shell. My wolf is keening, a sound of pure grief that only I can hear.

The door opens.

Desmond walks in, and the first thing I notice is the scent clinging to him. Khloe's perfume—that sickly sweet jasmine she wears. It's all over him, like she's marked him as hers.

He looks tired. Annoyed, even. "Marcus said you were awake. How are you feeling?"

How am I feeling?

I stare at him, this man who's supposed to be my mate, and I don't recognize him. Maybe I never did.

"The Rogues did a number on you," he continues, moving closer to the bed. "Elena says you'll need a few days to heal. Think you can be back to work by the end of the week? We've got the Summit coming up, and I'll need—"

"Our baby is dead."

The words hang in the air between us.

Desmond goes still. "What?"

"I was pregnant." My voice sounds strange, distant. "I tried to tell you. Through the mind-link. When I was bleeding at the bottom of that ravine, I begged you to help us. But you blocked me out."

His face drains of color. "You were—"

"Eight weeks." I touch my stomach, the flatness of it now obscene. "I lost our pup because you were too busy comforting Khloe to hear me screaming for help."

"Aspyn, I didn't—" He reaches for me, and I flinch back so hard I nearly fall off the bed.

"Don't touch me."

"If I had known—"

"You didn't want to know!" The words rip out of me. "You built a wall in the mind-link. You chose her over me. Over our child. You let me lie there bleeding while you carried her to safety."

"She was in danger—"

"She wasn't even hurt!" I'm shaking now, seven years of submission cracking apart. "I was dying, Desmond. Your mate and your pup were dying, and you picked her."

He opens his mouth, closes it. For once, he has nothing to say.

"Get out," I whisper.

"Aspyn—"

"Get. Out."

He leaves. The door clicks shut behind him, and I'm alone with Elena and the ruins of everything I thought I could survive.

Elena's hand finds mine. "What do you need?"

I close my eyes, feeling my wolf retreat even deeper, so deep I'm afraid she might never come back. "I need to disappear."

She squeezes my hand. Doesn't argue. Doesn't tell me it'll get better.

Because we both know it won't. Not here. Not with him.

Not ever.