Chapter 3

Larisa's Pov

The first I felt when I woke up was heat.

Not the kind from sunlight streaming through curtains or a fever breaking — but the kind that radiated from skin, from warmth pressed against warmth.

I blinked, disoriented, as morning light slipped through the cracked blinds of a luxurious room.

My head was pounding like drums in my skull, and my body… ached in ways that weren't entirely unpleasant.

That was when I realized I wasn't alone.

There was a man in the bed beside me. Half-covered, his bare chest rising and falling with a rhythm that made something tighten deep in my gut.

He had scars — old ones, faded silver lines across his ribs and shoulder — and a jaw lined with stubble, clenched even in sleep. His scent clung to the sheets : pine, smoke, and something else I couldn't give a name.

I didn't recognize him. Couldn't remember his name. Couldn't even recall how I got here.

But I remembered how I felt.

Safe.

That was what terrified me.

I slid out of the bed slowly, wincing as the cold floor met my bare feet. My dress — crumpled and ruined — was draped over a chair. I pulled it on with shaking hands, barely daring to breathe. I glanced at him one last time, lying there.

And then without a word, I turned on my heels and ran.

A week later, I stood at the altar in a wedding dress as heavy as my heart.

The wedding was grand. Lavish, even.

Gold draperies hung from the ceiling in the grand hall of the Red Moon Pack. Dozens of packs were in attendance. Dancers performed until their feet bled, and music filled every inch of space — loud enough to drown out the sound of my silence.

But I didn't smile.

Not once.

Not when the priestess bound out hands in the sacred white cloth. Not when Killian lifted my veil with rehearsed smug on his face.

He leaned in, his lips brushing my ear and whispered. “You're prettier than your sister. Too bad. I'll never love you like I did her.”

I didn't flinch.

I had learned how to keep still when I was burning inside.

But my patience was running thin.

The Red Moon Pack welcomed me like they'd welcome an enemy dressed in white.

I was Lycan royalty but here, I was a fucking symbol. A trophy sent to seal an alliance. The pack bowed out only out of duty but their eyes mocked me.

And Killian?

He didn't even pretend to hide his disgust.

At every feast, every public gathering, and every single war council, he made it a game of humiliating me. Taking little jabs at my fighting skills and even sarcastic remarks about my heritage. One time, he even joked about training a pup to lead better than I could and everyone laughed including the elders.

But I didn't.

And I didn't cry either.

Instead, I trained. I fought. I learned the terrain, studied the pack laws and their politics. I sat in silence and took note of those who laughed the hardest at me, those who looked away, and those who stayed silent. I made friends with the stablehands, the messengers, the warriors, and slowly, quietly, I carved a place for myself in the walls they built to keep me out.

But nothing prepared me for the trouble that came next.

I had been feeling sick for days.

At first, I thought I was either stress or the awful wine. But when I passed out during morning drills, the healer took it up to take a look at me.

I sat on the clinic bed, waiting for the test result. I expected to hear the usual stress and fatigue diagnosis but what I didn't expect was for her to look me in the eye and tell emt hat I was pregnant.

The room tilted.

What?

“You're pregnant, Luna.” She said matter-of-factly.

My heart froze as she passed the test result to me.

It was positive. I was 3 weeks pregnant.

“I’m pregnant?” I said breathlessly.

“Yes, ma'am,” The healer beamed. “Congratulation, Luna.”

I shook my head. ‘You don't understand,’ I wanted to say. I couldn't be pregnant. Killian— he's never touched me.

She saw me fighting my inner demons to utter a word and raised a brow.

I looked down, thinking.

And that's when it hit me.

No. No, no, no, no.

The bar.

The Rogue Alpha.

The night I tried so hard to forget.

Oh fuck.

It couldn't be.

My hands trembled as I placed them over my flat stomach. My body knew before my mind did. I felt it. Something was changing. Something was growing.

And it wasn't Killian's heir. It wasn't a child born of duty.

It was a child born out of passion. Of wild, drunken desperation. Of him, the stranger whose name I couldn't even know. The man whose hands had held me and lit my skin on fire.

And now… I was carrying his child. And in a pack that would never accept it.

I was married to a man who would destroy me if he found out.

Bound by oath, but more alone than I had ever been.

I was nothing but a queen in a cage and yet… as I sat there, shaking, the smallest smile tugged at my lips.

Because for the first time in months, something inside me didn't feel like a burden.

It felt like hope.

It was in the heat in my blood.

It was int he way he had pulled me towards him like gravity.

It was the bond.

The mating bond.

“I'll leave you be,” The healer pressed a soft hand on my shoulder and escaped into the room.

My hand unconsciously rubbed my stomach.

No wonder I had felt safe. No wonder I had been so drawn to him. Even when drunk, even when broken, I had recognized him as mine, as my mate.

And now, I was carrying his baby.

Life was growing inside of me.

Real, pulsing life.

Born not out of duty or alliance or instinct.

Was there a way out?

I was trapped in a palace of enemies, married to

a man who would see this as betrayal.

I whispered to my unborn child, through clenched teeth and tears.

“No one will take you away from me.”