Running From My Ruthless Alpha: Read Chapters 1-5

Kamrynn

"I’m not sure which hurts more—his hands or his words. Every time he touches me, it’s another reminder of how far I’ve fallen… and how much he despises me."

The bedroom is cold, dark, and suffocating. Calvin’s room. No. The Alpha's bedroom. His territory. I’m on my back, staring at the ceiling, willing my mind to drift somewhere else—anywhere but here—while Calvin rams into me, his movements harsh and punishing. He doesn’t care about my pain. He never has. He’s lost in his hatred, every thrust a reminder that to him, I am nothing but a tool for his vengeance.

His breath is hot on my neck, ragged and full of anger. My body lies limp beneath him, taking it, just like I always do. His hand tightens around my throat, and I know what’s coming before he even says it.

“Look at me, you filthy slut.” His voice is ice cold, full of disgust. “Don’t you dare try to escape in your head. You’re not going anywhere.”

He slaps me hard across the face. The sharp sting pulls me back to reality, the bitter taste of blood filling my mouth. I’d gotten too good at pretending not to be here, at drifting back to a time when things were… better.

We were so young back then. Back when Sherelle, Calvin, and I were just children, running through the fields behind the packhouse. Calvin would always laugh as he tried to catch me, his eyes sparkling in the sunlight. He was my best friend. Back then, I loved him, even before I understood what love was.

His grip tightens around my throat, snapping me back again. His hips move faster, more brutal, and I bite down on my lip until I taste blood to keep from crying out. My tears would only fuel his anger.

"Murderer," he snarled, slamming deeper into me. "Jealous, disgusting whore. You took her life for this!" He motioned to himself with an angry gesture, his body trembling with rage. "For my dick, is that it? Did you think you’d take her place? Did you think killing her would make me love you?”

I freeze. The mention of her always makes it worse. The rage in his voice deepens, and his fingers dig painfully into my skin.

“Don’t act innocent, bitch.” He pulls out of me, roughly tossing me aside like I’m nothing more than trash. I gasp, the sudden emptiness only a momentary relief before he yanks me by the hair, dragging me off the bed and throwing me to the ground. “You deserve this. Every. Single. Thing.”

My body hits the floor with a hard thud, and the next moment, his boot slams into my ribs. I cough, tasting blood, but I don’t move. There’s no point. It only encourages him.

“You think you’re above punishment?” he spits, pacing around me, his eyes blazing with fury. “You think you can kill my mate and my heir and walk away? You think I’d let you forget?”

"I didn’t—" I choke out, barely able to speak.

Another kick, this time to my stomach. I double over in pain, clutching my abdomen as nausea overtakes me. I try to curl into myself, instinctively protecting the parts of me that haven’t been broken yet, but Calvin’s hands grab my arms, pulling me up so I’m on my knees in front of him.

"You don’t get to speak, bitch. Not after what you’ve done."

His fist crashes into my face, and I feel the crack of bone. My vision blurs with pain, but it’s nothing compared to what I’ve been through before. This isn’t the first time he’s broken me.

"I should’ve killed you the moment I saw what you did to her," he sneers, lifting me by the hair. “But no. I’ll make you pay for the rest of your life.”

His words pierced deeper than any of his blows. Tears welled up, but I bit them back. Crying only made it worse. He hated when I cried.

"I’ll make your life hell until the day you die," he snarled into my ear, each word laced with venom. "You’ll never know peace, not after what you did to me, to Sherelle, to my unborn child."

He throws me back to the ground and shoves into me again, his nails biting into my skin as his body takes me roughly. The pain is overwhelming, crashing over me like waves, drowning me in its intensity. His promises blurred into the background as darkness edged my vision, the world around me fading as my mind drifted away…

***

We were children. Back then, everything was easy. Calvin was my best friend, always ready to take my hand and pull me into his world of adventures. He’d smile that brilliant smile of his, and I’d follow him wherever he led.

I had loved him for as long as I could remember. But that love shattered the day I confessed, when he told me he didn’t feel the same. And then, not even an hour later, he found out my twin sister, Sherelle, was his mate. I had smiled through the pain, wishing them both happiness, but my heart had crumbled that day.

They’d looked perfect together. Calvin and Sherelle, the golden couple of the Pack. I forced myself to be happy for them. Forced myself to move on. But the day it all ended would haunt me forever.

***

It had been a normal day. I remember that much. The sun was out, and the air was warm, a perfect day for a walk with Sherelle. She was glowing, five months pregnant, and we were joking about how she could barely see her feet anymore.

“You’re going to be such a mom,” I teased her, smiling.

Sherelle laughed, that laugh that could light up a room. “I’ll take it as a compliment, little sis.”

That moment felt peaceful. It almost made me forget the weight of my broken heart. Sherelle had everything I wanted: Calvin’s love, their unborn child, the future I once dreamed of. But I pushed those thoughts aside, as I always did. I wanted to be happy for her. I was happy for her.

Until everything went to hell.

The guard who accompanied us had left us for a moment, called away by something happening at the Pack’s borders. We didn’t think much of it. It was just the two of us in the woods, walking slowly as Sherelle talked about names for the baby. That’s when it happened.

The masked figure appeared out of nowhere, moving faster than either of us could react. I barely had time to scream before something hit me hard in the back of the head. Darkness swallowed me whole, pulling me under.

When I woke, the air was thick with the stench of blood.

I sat up, dizzy, my head throbbing. The forest was eerily silent, and then I saw it. Sherelle.

Her body lay crumpled on the ground, drenched in blood. Her throat had been torn open, her face mutilated beyond recognition. The sight of her belly, slashed wide open, was the worst. It was as if the life inside her had been stolen before it had a chance to live. There was a bloody knife beside her body.

My mind went blank. The horror of the scene consumed me, and all I could do was scream. My voice echoed through the trees, but no one came. No one except the guard, who returned only to accuse me of the unthinkable.

“You did this!” he shouted, pointing his spear. “I saw you! You murdered her!”

His words didn’t make sense. I hadn’t done anything. But the blood on my hands, the horror on my face—nothing I said would convince him otherwise.

I was thrown into the dungeon not long after, confused, terrified. The news of Sherelle’s death spread quickly, but then something even worse happened: her body disappeared. Along with it, the guard who had testified against me died under mysterious circumstances. They said I was responsible. They said I killed him to cover up my crime. All the evidence was against me. The knife that had been used to murder Sherelle was full of my fingerprints.

That’s when Calvin came to see me.

I’ll never forget the look in his eyes—pure hatred.

“You killed her,” he said, his voice cold. “You killed my mate, and now you’ve taken her body too.”

“I didn’t—” I tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come.

“You murdered my child. You murdered the guard. And now you’re going to pay for everything you’ve done.”

And pay I did. Tortured, beaten, burnt, lacerated and pumped full of wolfsbane until I lost my wolf. Three months of agony. Three months of wondering if death would finally come for me. I had almost forgotten what it was like to be alive.

Then Calvin came to me one night, a monster in the shape of a man. His boot slammed into my ribs, waking me from my broken sleep.

“You took everything from me,” he whispered, his voice so cold, it made my blood freeze. “Sherelle. My child. You’ll replace what you’ve taken. You will give me a new heir.”

He declared it that night, and since then, I’ve been his toy—his slave, his punching bag, his prisoner.

Kamrynn

When I wake, the world is a blur of pain and darkness. My body feels as if it’s been shattered into a thousand pieces. But this pain is different. It isn’t just from the bruises or the beating. It’s deeper. Something sharp and unnatural twists inside me, tightening its grip on my stomach. I can feel something wet between my legs, sticky and warm.

Blood.

I gasp, panic flooding my chest. My arms are chained to the bed, and I’m too weak to even pull against the restraints. The metal bites into my skin as I shift, trying to move, trying to understand what’s happening. My stomach churns violently, and the pain intensifies, making me want to scream.

Please, not again. Not another one.

I close my eyes, willing the terror to go away. I know what this is. I know what it feels like when a child is lost, when your body rejects the life inside it. In the nine months that I’ve been Calvin’s slave, I’ve lost three children. Three tiny lives that I couldn’t protect, and each time, I’ve kept it secret, terrified of what he would do if he found out.

But this time feels different. Worse. I wasn’t even sure if I was pregnant again, but I knew my body, and it’s not time for my period yet. There’s too much blood. It can’t be that. My heart hammers in my chest as the fear coils tighter around me.

Please… not again.

The door creaks open, and I hear the familiar sound of soft footsteps approaching the bed. I don’t even have to open my eyes to know it’s Lysaa. Her presence is like a tiny flicker of warmth in the coldness that surrounds me. She’s the only one in this place who shows me any kindness, and her gentle touch is the only thing that’s ever made me feel human anymore.

“Oh, Kamrynn,” Lysaa’s voice is barely a whisper, but I can hear the sorrow in it. She’s seen me like this too many times before. “He did it again, didn’t he?”

I force my eyes open, blinking against the blur of pain. Lysaa stands beside me, her round face full of pity, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Her usual cheery demeanor is gone, replaced by a sadness she tries so hard to hide. Her hair is falling loose around her face, and her hands tremble as she reaches out to brush the sweat-dampened hair from my forehead.

“I think I’m…” My voice cracks, barely audible. “I’m bleeding, Lysaa. There’s so much blood.”

Her eyes widen in alarm, and she looks down at me, her gaze drifting to the dark stains on the bed beneath me. She hesitates, glancing toward the door as if she’s afraid someone might overhear. “You don’t think—”

“I don’t know,” I whisper, swallowing back the rising fear in my throat. “It’s not time for my period. I— I don’t know if I’m pregnant, but I can’t… I can’t lose another one.”

Lysaa bites her lip, torn between fear and compassion. I can see the conflict in her eyes. She knows what I’m asking of her. She knows the risk. If Calvin finds out, if he even suspects that something’s wrong…

“The Alpha will be furious,” she says softly, shaking her head. “If he finds out, Kamrynn…”

“Please.” My voice cracks with desperation. “Lysaa, I’m scared. I can’t— I can’t do this again.”

She looks down at me, her eyes brimming with tears, and for a moment, I think she might refuse. But then she nods, wiping at her eyes quickly. “I’ll get the doctor,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “Just hold on. Please, just hold on.”

I let out a shaky breath as she hurries from the room, the door closing softly behind her. The pain in my stomach twists tighter, and I bite down hard on my lip to keep from crying out. My mind spins, the memories of the previous miscarriages crashing over me like waves. The tiny bits of hope I’d dared to feel—each one torn away from me, lost to the darkness that has consumed my life since the day Sherelle died.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block it all out, but the pain doesn’t go away. It only gets worse, spreading through me until it’s all I can feel. And as the darkness starts to pull me under again, the nightmare begins.

***

Sherelle is standing in front of me, her body drenched in blood, her skin pale and lifeless. The gash in her neck is wide and deep, still oozing thick, black blood down her chest. Her eyes are hollow, empty, yet somehow, they still hold a look of betrayal that pierces through me like a knife.

The wound on her stomach is open, raw, and empty. Her hands cradle her belly, her lips twisted into a sneer.

“You took everything from me,” she hisses, her voice distorted and unnatural. “You always wanted what was mine.”

I try to speak, to tell her it’s not true, but the words won’t come. I’m frozen in place as she steps closer, her blood-streaked fingers reaching for me.

“You killed me,” she whispers, her eyes boring into mine. “You wanted him, didn’t you? You wanted Calvin so badly that you ripped him away from me. You stole my mate. My life. My child.”

“No,” I choke out, my voice trembling with fear. “I didn’t. I swear I didn’t…”

But Sherelle’s face contorts with rage, her hand wrapping around my throat, cold and wet with blood.

“You killed me, Kamrynn. You took everything from me.”

I try to scream, but there’s no sound.

I wake with a gasp, my heart pounding, my chest heaving as I struggle to pull myself back from the nightmare. The room is dimly lit, and the sound of soft murmurs reaches my ears. I blink, trying to focus, my vision blurry from the tears still clinging to my lashes.

Lysaa is there, sitting beside the bed, holding my hand. And standing next to her is a woman with graying hair and sharp, intelligent eyes. Dr. Thorne. The Pack’s doctor. She’s been here before—she was Sherelle’s doctor during her pregnancy. She’s seen everything.

“She’s awake,” Lysaa whispers, her voice filled with relief.

Dr. Thorne turns to me, her expression grim as she moves closer to the bed. Her face is etched with concern, and I can tell that whatever she has to say, it’s not going to be good.

“How are you feeling, Kamrynn?” Dr. Thorne asks, her voice calm but direct.

I blink up at her, struggling to find the words. “I don’t… I don’t know,” I whisper. “There’s… blood. Am I…”

“You’re not miscarrying,” she says quickly, as if trying to soothe the panic she can see in my eyes. “There’s been some light spotting, but it’s not a miscarriage.”

I let out a shaky breath, relief washing over me for a moment. “Then… then what is it?”

Dr. Thorne’s expression hardens. “It’s the result of trauma,” she says bluntly. “The beating, the… forced intercourse. Your body is reacting to the brutality it’s endured. You’re pregnant, Kamrynn. But if you continue like this, if this continues…”

I can hear the unspoken warning in her voice, and it makes my stomach churn. I glance over at Lysaa, her face pale as she listens in silence, her hand still clutching mine tightly.

“If the Alpha keeps… treating you this way, you’ll lose the baby,” Dr. Thorne says softly. “And with the state your body is in, if you lose this child, Kamrynn, you may never be able to have another...”

Kamrynn

The words hit me like a hammer to the chest, knocking the air from my lungs. I stare up at her, my heart pounding, the weight of her warning settling over me like a suffocating blanket.

Never. Another. Child.

I blink, trying to process what she’s just told me. My throat tightens, and a tear slips down my cheek. I’ve already lost three. I’ve already failed so many times.

Lysaa squeezes my hand, her voice trembling. “Is there anything we can do?” she asks. “Anything at all?”

Dr. Thorne sighs, her face softening slightly. “She needs rest. Complete rest. No more starving, no more beatings. No more... rough treatment. Her body is fragile right now. If the Alpha continues, it will be inevitable.”

I close my eyes, fighting back the sob that threatens to escape. Rest? How can I rest when Calvin sees me as nothing more than an object for his rage? He’ll never let me rest. He’ll never let me protect this child.

Dr. Thorne moves to the door, pushing it open slowly. Her brows furrow as she speaks, “I’ll come back to check on you in a few days,” she says quietly. “In the meantime, Lysaa will take care of you.”

Lysaa nods quickly, her face resolute. “I’ll do everything I can.”

The doctor takes one last look at me before leaving and closing the door behind her.

As soon as the door closes behind Dr. Thorne, Lysaa is in motion. Her eyes dart around the room, landing on the bloodstained sheets beneath me.

"We need to get this cleaned up before he sees," she whispers urgently, already pulling at the corners of the sheet. “If the Alpha finds out…"

Her voice trails off, but the fear in her tone is unmistakable. Lysaa scampers around the bed, tugging at the fabric, careful not to let the bloodstains spread. I try to shift my body, but the chains hold me firmly in place, and I wince as the movement sends a fresh wave of pain through me.

"Hold still," Lysaa mutters, her voice tight with concentration. "I’ll figure it out."

I watch her work, her hands quick and efficient as she carefully maneuvers the sheet out from under me. It’s a delicate dance, and I can see the worry etched into her face as she hurries. She manages to slide a clean sheet beneath me without too much trouble, smoothing it down with practiced ease.

"Lysaa," I croak out, my throat dry. "Why do you believe me?"

She freezes for a moment, looking down at me with wide eyes. "What do you mean?"

I lick my cracked lips, my voice barely a whisper. “Everyone else in the Pack thinks I killed her. They think I’m a murderer. But you don’t… why?”

Lysaa hesitates, her hands clutching the clean sheet. She takes a deep breath, then looks at me with a softness in her eyes I haven’t seen in so long.

"Because you’re not like that," she says firmly. "I’ve always admired you, Kamrynn. You have a kind heart. You’ve been through so much, and yet… you’re still you. My gut tells me you didn’t kill Sherelle."

I shake my head, tears welling up in my eyes. "But why? Why do you trust me when everyone else thinks I’m guilty?"

Lysaa moves to sit on the edge of the bed, her fingers still gripping the sheet. "Do you remember when you helped me with the village kids?" she asks softly.

I blink, confused. "The village kids?"

She nods. "A few years ago. There were some pups in the village—orphans, like me. The Pack doesn’t always take care of the lower ranks. I was struggling to get enough food for them. I’d sneak what I could, but I was always afraid of getting caught. Then you found me."

Lysaa smiles a little, her eyes distant as she remembers. "You didn’t report me. You didn’t punish me. Instead, you gave me food for the pups. You told me you’d help keep it quiet so I wouldn’t get in trouble. To you, it probably seemed like a small thing. But to me… it was everything."

I stare at her, my throat tightening with emotion. "I didn’t realize…"

Lysaa shakes her head. "It meant the world to me, Kamrynn. I swore to myself that day that I would always help you however I could. I don’t believe for a second that you killed your sister. You’re not that person."

Her words hit me hard, and the tears I’ve been holding back finally spill over. I’ve been so alone. Since the day Sherelle died, I’ve felt like there’s no one left in the world who cares about me. Sherelle was my sister, my only family after our parents died protecting Calvin when we were 10.

They were fearless warriors who protected the Alpha's family and they sacrificed their lives to protect the future Alpha when the Pack was attacked 11 years ago.

Sherelle was all I had. And now… it feels like she’s been stolen from me too.

"Thank you," I whisper, my voice breaking. "I’ve felt so alone since… since Sherelle died. I didn’t know anyone believed in me. I thought—"

"You don’t need to thank me," Lysaa interrupts, her voice soft but firm. "I only wish I could do more."

I let out a shaky breath, wiping at my eyes with the back of my hand. "There’s one more thing… Lysaa, I need your help."

Lysaa looks at me, her brow furrowed in concern. "What is it?"

"I need to escape," I whisper. "I can’t stay here. If I do, he’ll kill this baby. He’ll… he’ll kill me."

Lysaa’s eyes widen in shock, but she quickly schools her expression, glancing toward the door as if Calvin might barge in at any moment. "Escape?" she whispers. "How? He keeps you chained up all the time."

"I don’t know," I admit, the desperation clear in my voice. "But I have to try. If I don’t get out, I’ll lose this baby. I can’t… I can’t lose another one."

Lysaa’s face softens, and she nods slowly. "I’ll find a way," she promises. "I don’t know how yet, but I’ll find a way."

Just as the words leave her lips, there’s a sharp knock on the door. Both of us freeze, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Shit," Lysaa mutters under her breath. She glances at me, then hurries to the door, pulling it open just enough to see who it is.

It’s him.

Calvin stands in the doorway, his towering figure casting a long shadow into the room. His eyes are cold, calculating, as they sweep over Lysaa and then over to me, lying chained on the bed.

"Alpha," Lysaa greets him, her voice a little too calm, but I can hear the tremor beneath the surface.

He doesn’t acknowledge her, his gaze fixed on me, and my stomach tightens with fear. I try to keep my expression neutral, to keep my eyes down, but I can feel my body trembling. The urge to shield my belly from him is overwhelming, but my hands are chained, and I can’t move.

Don’t look at him. Don’t give him a reason to hurt you.

"Leave," Calvin says, his voice sharp and devoid of emotion.

Lysaa scurries out, leaving me alone with him. The door closes softly, but it might as well be the sound of a thousand chains locking into place. I’m trapped. Trapped in this room, in this life, in this nightmare that never ends. My body trembles, not from fear, but from the sheer exhaustion of holding back everything I feel.

He steps closer, his eyes cold and hard as they roam over me, but I don’t flinch the way I used to. I used to see him and feel my heart flutter. I used to hope—foolishly—that some part of him still remembered the girl I was. The girl who loved him with every piece of her heart. But now, looking at him, all I feel is hatred. The butterflies that once filled my stomach when I saw him are dead, rotted away under the weight of his cruelty.

The love I once had for him has turned to something twisted and bitter. Hate. Pure and seething. It boils under my skin, sharp and fiery, until I can barely contain it. He calls me a murderer, but what is he? He’s killed three of our children—three lives I never got to protect. His rage, his brutality, has taken everything from me. And he has the audacity to call me a murderer?

I grit my teeth, clenching my fists as hard as the chains will allow. My whole body tenses with the urge to scream at him, to shout at him, to claw his eyes out and make him feel even a fraction of the pain he’s inflicted on me. But I can’t. Not yet. Not while I’m still chained to this bed, with my body too weak to fight back.

He paces around the bed like a predator, his gaze sharp and assessing. He’s studying me, looking for any sign of defiance, any reason to punish me. His green eyes once filled me with warmth. Now, they make my stomach churn. There’s no trace of the boy I once knew in those eyes. The one who used to smile at me as we ran through the fields, laughing like there was nothing in the world that could touch us.

Now, there’s only cruelty.

His gaze falls on the freshly changed sheets, and he frowns, the anger in his face barely concealed. “Why are the sheets changed?” he demands, his voice sharp, a command rather than a question.

I don’t answer right away.

“I asked you a question, you filthy whore,” he snaps, stepping closer, his face inches from mine.

I bite my tongue, swallowing down the bitterness. “I… I’m sorry,” I manage to say, forcing the words out through clenched teeth.

Calvin studies me for a moment, his eyes narrowing. There’s something calculating in the way he looks at me, as if he’s searching for something he can use to hurt me, to break me further. But I won’t give him that satisfaction. Not anymore.

Then, his eyes flick down to my stomach, and something shifts in his expression. It’s subtle, but I see it. His gaze hardens even more, and his sneer deepens as if he’s figured out a secret I wasn’t ready to share.

He leans closer, his breath hot against my skin, and sneers. “Are you pregnant?”

Calvin leans in even closer, his voice dropping to a cruel whisper. “Answer me, bitch. Are you carrying my child?”

Calvin

There are no words to describe how much I hate her.

Every time I look at her, it boils inside me, this burning rage that never dies. I thought I knew her once. I thought she was a good friend, someone I could trust. We grew up together—me, Sherelle, and her. We were inseparable, or so I thought. But all along, she was nothing but a manipulative, disgusting bitch who wanted to destroy my happiness.

I can’t stand the sight of her. I hate everything about her. The way she looks at me with those wide, innocent blue eyes, like she’s done nothing wrong. Like she hasn’t ripped my life apart. The way she whimpers and shakes when I touch her, pretending she’s the victim when she’s the one who killed Sherelle. My Sherelle. My mate. My love.

I don’t just hate her—I despise her. And I take pleasure in seeing her suffer. Every bruise, every scream, every tear—it’s justice. It’s what she deserves. I enjoy making her life a living hell, watching the light drain from her eyes as she realizes no one will save her, no one will believe her. She’s nothing. Less than nothing. And I’ll make sure she pays for every second of Sherelle’s death with every breath she takes.

I didn’t always think this way. There was a time when I thought Kamrynn was a friend, someone I could rely on. We were close as kids, me, her, and Sherelle. I never imagined she was capable of the kind of evil she’s shown. But the truth always comes out, doesn’t it? The moment Sherelle became Luna, Kamrynn showed her true colors. Jealous, conniving, and twisted.

I thought she loved her sister. I thought she cared. But no. The moment Sherelle was carrying my child, Kamrynn’s jealousy poisoned her. She couldn’t stand to see us happy, to see us build a future together. So, she took it all away. She killed Sherelle in cold blood. She murdered my child before he ever had a chance to take his first breath.

And I’ll never forgive her for it.

The day Sherelle died still haunts me. It was supposed to be a normal day—she was out walking with Kamrynn, pregnant with our son. The guard was with them. Everything was fine. But then Kamrynn returned, covered in blood, screaming like she had no idea what had happened. Sherelle’s body was nowhere to be found. The guard swore he saw Kamrynn attack her, saw her kill Sherelle with his own eyes. And then, he mysteriously died, and Sherelle’s body vanished.

I had to bury an empty coffin.

Every day since then, I’ve been tormented by the fact that I don’t even know where Sherelle’s body is. That’s what keeps me up at night. Kamrynn refuses to say where she’s hidden it, no matter how much I beat her, no matter how much I make her suffer. She won’t break. But I don’t need to kill her. That would be too easy. She deserves to live with the pain she’s caused. She deserves to suffer, to feel the weight of her crimes for the rest of her miserable life.

She took Sherelle from me. She took my child, the future of this Pack. So, she’ll replace him. It’s the only reason I haven’t torn her apart with my own hands. She will give me another child, and once she does, her fate will be so much worse than anything she’s endured so far. She’ll beg for death, but I won’t let it near her.

I hate having to touch her. She disgusts me. But she looks so much like Sherelle that it’s almost unbearable sometimes. Every time I take her, I see Sherelle’s face in hers, and it makes my blood boil. But this is necessary for the future of the Pack. It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make, no matter how much I hate her. Once she gives me a child, I’ll have no more use for her.

As I head back from the meeting, I spot the doctor leaving the hallway that leads to Kamrynn’s room. My brow furrows in confusion. The doctor? Why would she be here? Kamrynn’s taken plenty of beatings and she’s never needed a doctor before. She’s resilient, I’ll give her that. She’s taken everything I’ve thrown at her and she’s survived.

So why is the doctor here now?

A suspicion forms in my mind, one I hadn’t considered before. Something urgent must have happened. Something… like pregnancy.

My heart races at the thought. Could it be?

I head straight for the room, the idea swirling in my mind. If she’s pregnant, everything changes. I’ll finally have my child. And then, when the baby is born, I can make Kamrynn’s life an even greater hell. She’ll beg for death, but I won’t give it to her. I’ll keep her alive just to see her suffer more.

As I enter the room, I immediately notice the sheets. Fresh. Changed. And Lysaa is here. My suspicions grow. Kamrynn has taken beatings before—she never needed her sheets changed after a few bruises. Something is different. Something is wrong.

"Alpha," Lysaa greets me with a bow, her voice calm, steady but there's an edge to it. Something is going on here.

I narrow my eyes. "Leave."

She dips her head quickly and scurries out of the room like the coward she is. The second the door closes behind her, my gaze falls on the woman chained to the bed.

Kamrynn.

I step closer, and as I do, I see her body tense. She’s terrified. Good. She should be. My suspicion grows as I watch her shift uncomfortably, her face pale, her hands trembling. I stare at her for a long moment, and then the question spills from my lips.

"Are you pregnant?"

Her entire body goes rigid, and for a brief second, I see the panic in her eyes before she hides it. My lips curl into a sneer. She’s hiding something.

“Answer me, bitch. Are you carrying my child?” I demand, stepping closer to her.

She shakes her head, her voice barely a whisper. "I’m… I’m not pregnant."

"Liar," I hiss. I lean over her, my hands gripping the edge of the bed. "Don’t you dare lie to me."

"I’m not!" she cries, flinching as I move closer. "I swear, I’m not pregnant."

I narrow my eyes, studying her face. She’s good at this. She’s been lying to me for months, hiding Sherelle’s body, hiding the truth. I’ve beaten her, tortured her, done all sorts of things but she’s never cracked. Never broken. But this time… this time she might have slipped.

"Then why was the doctor here?" I ask, my voice low and menacing. "Why did she come if you’re so fine?"

Kamrynn’s lips tremble as she swallows hard. "I… I couldn’t breathe," she says, her voice shaking. "From the… the broken rib."

I don’t believe her. Not for a second. She’s hiding something, and I’ll drag it out of her one way or another. I lean in closer, my face inches from hers.

"Don’t lie to me, you stupid pig," I growl. "Tell me the truth. Now."

Her eyes meet mine, and for a split second, I think I see something—something flicker in her gaze—but then she speaks. "I’m not pregnant," she says firmly, her voice steadier now. "I’m not."

I search her face, my eyes narrowing. She’s too calm. Too sure. There’s no sign of a lie, but there’s also no relief in her voice. It’s almost like… she doesn’t care.

I grit my teeth, my frustration boiling over. I raise my hand and smack her hard across the face. Her head snaps to the side, and a red mark blooms on her cheek almost immediately.

"Are you even capable of having children?" I snarl. "I’ve been fucking you for nine months straight and nothing. Maybe the Moon Goddess is punishing you for your crimes, making you barren."

She stays silent, not even daring to look up at me.

"I don’t care how you do it," I say, my voice dripping with venom. "You will give me a child. You’ll replace the one you killed."

She doesn’t answer. She never does.

I grip her chin, forcing her to look at me. "Maybe I’m not fucking you hard enough," I sneer. "Get on all fours."

For a moment, she hesitates, her eyes flickering with something that almost looks like defiance. Then she speaks, her voice shaking. "I’m… not feeling well."

I open my mouth to respond, but before I can, my mother’s voice comes through the mind link, urgent and insistent. She wants to meet with me in her room. Something important.

I let out a growl of frustration and release Kamrynn’s chin, pushing away from the bed. "Fine," I snap. "But don’t think this is over, bitch. I'll break you one way or another."

I throw the door open and storm out, the fury simmering in my chest. I hate leaving her alive like this. I hate knowing she’s still breathing, still in my Pack, still here after everything she’s done.

But I need her. I need her to carry my child, to replace the future she stole from me. And once that’s done… then I’ll take everything from her. Everything.

I make my way down the hall, my mother’s mind link buzzing in my head. Whatever she wants to discuss better be important. I can’t shake the image of Kamrynn lying there, as if she has nothing left to give. But she’s hiding something. I know she is. I’ll figure it out, and when I do… she’ll wish she’d never been born.

Kamrynn

The anxiety twists deep in my stomach, an uncomfortable knot of dread that I can’t shake. My head throbs, the ache relentless. It’s almost time for Calvin to return, and the thought alone makes my entire body tense up. I’m so weak that even the weight of my bones feels unbearable. I’ve barely eaten in days—he only let me have food two days ago, leftovers I was forced to eat off the floor like some wild animal. My stomach growls, hollow and painful, but there’s nothing I can do.

I run my tongue over my dry, cracked lips and look down at myself. Tears well up in my eyes before I can stop them. I’m nothing but skin and bones now, my body covered in bruises, scars, and sores. My ribs stick out sharply from beneath the rags I’ve been forced to wear. Every part of me hurts—my arms, my legs, my back. The chains bite into my wrists and ankles, and my hands and feet have gone numb from being restrained for so long.

How did it come to this?

I used to be strong. I used to be full of life. And now I’m a shadow, a slave, barely holding on. My hands tremble as I wipe at my tears. The pain in my chest, both from the hunger and from the heartache, is overwhelming. I want to scream at the Moon Goddess, curse her for forsaking me. I’ve cursed her so many times already. Why me? Why did everything have to be taken from me? Why was Sherelle murdered? Why did I get the blame? What was my crime—falling in love with Calvin? Or just being in the wrong place at the wrong time?

I want to scream. I want justice for Sherelle. I want the real killer to be found, but I know if I stay here, I’ll die before the truth ever comes out. I have to get away, for the sake of my child, if nothing else. I won’t let Calvin kill this baby like he killed the others.

Suddenly, I hear shouting outside. A commotion. My heart skips a beat, panic rising in my throat. What’s going on? Before I can figure it out, the door bursts open, and Lysaa rushes into the room, her face pale but determined, a key clutched in her hand.

“Lysaa?” I whisper, my voice hoarse from days of silence. “What are you doing?”

“I’ve got the key,” Lysaa pants, rushing to my side. “You need to get out of here. Now.”

“What?” My heart stutters in my chest. “How did you—how did you get the key from the Alpha?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Lysaa says quickly, unlocking the chains on my wrists. “I’ve created a distraction, but we don’t have much time. You need to leave.”

As soon as the cuffs come off, my hands fall limp at my sides. The numbness gives way to sharp pins and needles as blood rushes back into my fingers, and I wince at the sensation. Lysaa unlocks my ankles next, and I try to move, but my legs don’t cooperate. They’re too weak. I haven’t walked in days.

“I can’t…” I choke, my voice trembling with panic. “Lysaa, I can’t stand.”

“Hold on,” she says, grabbing a large blanket from the corner of the room. She wraps it around my shoulders like a shawl, covering my rags. “I’ll help you.”

She lifts me off the bed, her small frame stronger than I imagined. I cling to her as she helps me to my feet, my legs wobbling beneath me. My knees buckle, but Lysaa holds me steady.

“You have to walk, Kamrynn,” she urges, her voice firm. “I know it hurts, but you have to. We don’t have time.”

I nod, swallowing back the pain. “Okay.”

We move slowly toward the door, every step sending shooting pain through my legs, but I push through it. We make our way down the hall, my heart racing as I hear the commotion growing louder outside. I glance toward the window, and through the shadows of night, I see people running, shouting orders. The Pack is in chaos.

“What did you do?” I ask, breathless from the effort of walking.

“It’s not important,” Lysaa says quickly, her eyes darting around as we move. “What’s important is that you get out. There won’t be another chance like this.”

I want to ask more, but there’s no time. She’s right. This is my only chance, and I need to take it. Still, I can’t help but worry about Lysaa. What if she gets caught? What if she’s punished for helping me?

“Lysaa,” I whisper, my voice tight with fear. “If you get in trouble because of me…”

“Don’t worry about me,” she snaps, more harshly than I’ve ever heard her speak before. “I’ll be fine. You just need to go.”

We’re almost to the exit when a figure suddenly steps into our path. One of the Pack members. My heart stops.