My Alpha Forced Me to Miscarry His Heir

The silver walls hummed with a low, maddening vibration that only I seemed to hear. It was the sound of isolation. I sat huddled in the corner of the damp cell, my hands protectively covering my stomach.

"Austin," I whispered, closing my eyes and pushing with everything I had against the mental barrier. "Can you hear me? Please. It’s our baby. We’re having a baby."

My mind slammed against the silver suppression like a bird hitting a glass window. Nothing. No warmth, no golden thread, no Alpha.

Time lost its meaning in the dark. Was it day? Night? All I had was the terrifying, rhythmic thrum of the second heartbeat inside me, and the gnawing worry for my mother upstairs.

Then, it happened.

A sharp, sickening crack echoed in the center of my chest. It wasn't a sound, but a sensation—like a violin string pulled too tight until it snapped, whipping back and slicing through my soul.

I gasped, clutching my chest as the air left the room. A profound, icy coldness washed over me, starting from my heart and spreading to my fingertips. The tether. The familial bond.

"No," I choked out, scrambling to my knees. "No, no, no. Mom?"

I reached out into the void, screaming with my mind. *Mom! Mommy, please!*

Silence. Not just the silence of the silver, but the absolute, hollow silence of death. The connection was gone. She was gone.

"Austin!" I screamed aloud, my voice raw and cracking against the stone walls. "Let me out! She’s dead! She’s dead, and I wasn't there!"

I threw myself against the bars, sobbing until my throat bled, begging the darkness for a chance to say goodbye. But nobody came. The Alpha was likely upstairs, toasting to his future, while my world crumbled in the dark.

***

Two days. I lay on the stone floor, hollowed out. I hadn't eaten. The only thing keeping me breathing was the tiny spark of life in my womb. I had to survive for the pup.

The heavy iron door groaned open. Light flooded in, blinding me. I shielded my eyes, my heart leaping. "Austin?"

"Not quite."

The voice was like silk wrapped around a dagger. My vision cleared, and I saw Stella Gordon standing there. She looked immaculate in a white designer dress, her blonde hair cascading in perfect waves. The scent of expensive, cloying roses drifted into the cell, masking the smell of mildew.

She didn't look at me with disgust. She looked at me with triumph.

"You look terrible, Ivy," she said, stepping inside as the guard retreated. "But I suppose grief does that to a person."

I pushed myself up to a sitting position, my limbs trembling. "Where is Austin? Does he know?"

Stella laughed softly. "Oh, he knows your mother passed. It was quite inconvenient, really. Dying right in the middle of the welcome ceremony. We had to rush the body out the back door so it wouldn't spoil the mood."

Rage, hot and unfamiliar, flared in my chest. "You... you didn't let me see her."

"Why would we?" Stella crouched down, her blue eyes icy. "You're just a servant, Ivy. An Omega. And we couldn't have you wailing over a pauper’s grave."

"Pauper's grave?" My voice was barely a whisper.

"No headstone. Just a hole in the dirt at the edge of the territory," she said, her smile widening. Then, she leaned in close, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I know, Ivy. I know you're his mate."

My blood ran cold. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't lie," she hissed, grabbing my chin with perfectly manicured nails. "I smelled him on you the moment I arrived. Eight years? Pathetic. He kept you like a dirty little secret because he was ashamed of you. And now, he’s chosen me."

She stood up abruptly, dusting off her hands. She pulled a small glass vial from her pocket. Inside, a purple liquid swirled menacingly. Liquid wolfsbane.

"Get up," she commanded.

"What?"

"I said, get up!" She grabbed my arm, her grip surprisingly strong. "Austin wants the servants working. You've moped enough."

I tried to resist, but I was weak from hunger and grief. She dragged me out of the cell, up the stairs, and into the blinding brightness of the pack house kitchen.

The kitchen was chaotic. Chefs were shouting, pans were sizzling. The smell of roasting meat made my empty stomach turn. Nobody looked at us. To them, I was just the Omega being scolded by the future Luna.

"Here," Stella said, shoving me toward a prep station where a magnificent, rare steak sat on a silver platter. It was Austin's dinner. "Prepare the Alpha's meal."

"I... I can't," I stammered, my hands shaking. "I'm not supposed to be here."

"Do it!" Stella snapped. She stood right behind me, blocking my exit.

I reached for the garnish, trying to steady my breathing. Just as my hand hovered over the plate, Stella uncorked the vial.

In one fluid motion, she poured the purple liquid over the steak. The acrid, chemical smell of wolfsbane hit my nose instantly.

"What are you doing?" I gasped, backing away.

Stella dropped the empty vial into my apron pocket. Then, she let out a blood-curdling scream.

"Help! Someone help!" Stella shrieked, stumbling back and knocking over a tray of glasses. They shattered loudly against the tile.

The entire kitchen froze.

Stella pointed a trembling finger at me, her face twisted in a mask of perfect, terrified victimhood.

"She tried to kill me!" Stella wailed, tears instantly springing to her eyes. "The Omega! She put wolfsbane in the Alpha’s steak! She’s trying to assassinate us!"

The heavy double doors burst open. Austin stood there, his presence filling the room like a thundercloud, his eyes flashing with the dangerous, golden light of an enraged Alpha.