I Nearly Died Pregnant When He Hung around with His First Love

The emergency siren cut through the afternoon air like a blade, its wailing cry sending ice through my veins. My hand instinctively moved to my rounded belly—six months along now, the baby restless inside me as if sensing the danger.

"All non-combatants to evacuation stations immediately!" The pack-wide mind-link crackled with urgent commands from the border patrol. "Unknown hostiles approaching from the eastern ridge!"

I was already moving, my Luna training kicking in despite the awkward weight of pregnancy. The orphanage—I had to get to the orphanage first. Those children had no parents to protect them, no one but the pack's Luna to ensure their safety.

The old Victorian building stood three stories tall, its once-grand facade now weathered and worn. I'd submitted repair requests for this place seventeen times in the past two years. Seventeen times Joshua had dismissed them as "unnecessary expenses" while approving Natalie's latest shopping spree for designer handbags.

The front door burst open as I approached, and a flood of frightened children poured out under the guidance of Mrs. Henderson, the elderly caretaker.

"Luna Vanessa!" Seven-year-old Emma broke from the group, her dark curls bouncing as she ran toward me. "I'm scared! What's happening?"

I knelt as best I could with my belly, taking her small hands in mine. "It's going to be okay, sweetheart. We're just being extra careful. Stay close to Mrs. Henderson, alright?"

The sound of splintering wood made us both turn. On the second-floor landing, visible through the large windows, I could see more children descending the main staircase. But something was wrong—terribly wrong.

The wooden banister, rotted from years of neglect, was sagging under the weight of little hands gripping it for support. I watched in horror as six-year-old Marcus, bringing up the rear of the group, leaned heavily against the railing.

The ancient wood gave way with a sickening crack.

Marcus's scream pierced the air as his small body pitched sideways, tumbling toward the gap where the railing had been. Below him, thirty feet down, lay the concrete entrance steps—unforgiving stone that would shatter his fragile bones on impact.

Time slowed to a crawl. Every instinct in my body screamed danger—for me, for my unborn child. But Marcus was falling, his terrified face a mask of pure terror as gravity claimed him.

I didn't think. I couldn't think.

I lunged forward, my pregnant body moving with desperate speed despite its limitations. My hands caught Marcus's shirt just as he cleared the broken railing, and I hauled him back with every ounce of strength I possessed, throwing him toward the safety of the landing.

But physics is a cruel mistress. The momentum of his fall combined with my desperate lunge sent me careening forward, my center of gravity completely destroyed by my rounded belly. The world tilted sickeningly as I pitched over the edge where the railing should have been.

The fall felt endless—a nightmare of tumbling limbs and desperate, futile attempts to protect my stomach. I hit the stairs hard, my shoulder slamming into the concrete edge with a wet crack. Pain exploded through my body as I rolled and bounced down the stone steps, each impact driving the breath from my lungs.

When I finally came to rest at the bottom, the world had gone strangely quiet except for the ringing in my ears. Warmth was spreading beneath me—too much warmth. Blood. My blood.

The first contraction hit like a sledgehammer to my spine, doubling me over as I lay crumpled on the cold concrete. No, no, no—not now. Not like this.

"Help," I whispered, but my voice was barely a breath. I tried to push myself up, but my left arm wouldn't respond properly, hanging useless at my side.

Another contraction, stronger this time, and I felt something give way inside me. More blood, warm and sticky, soaking through my clothes. Panic clawed at my throat as I realized what was happening—I was losing the baby. I was losing my child.

With trembling fingers, I reached out through the mind-link, seeking the one person who should drop everything to save us both.

*Joshua!* I called out desperately through our mate bond. *Joshua, please—I need help. The baby—*

His presence in my mind was distracted, distant. I could sense him clearly—not in some life-or-death emergency, but sitting comfortably in his office. And he wasn't alone.

Natalie's voice drifted through the connection, sickeningly sweet and artificially breathless. "Oh, Alpha Joshua, this meditation is so helpful for my trauma. I feel so safe with you guiding me through this difficult time."

A giggle. She actually giggled while I lay bleeding on concrete stairs.

*Joshua, please,* I tried again, another contraction stealing my breath. *Something's wrong—I fell, and the baby—*

"Don't bother me right now, Vanessa." His mental voice was sharp with irritation. "I'm doing serious work here. Natalie needs proper care after the trauma of today's alert."

Trauma? What trauma? The woman was giggling like a schoolgirl while I fought to keep our child alive.

*Joshua, I'm bleeding—* I started, desperation making my mental voice crack.

"Enough!" His Alpha command slammed into my mind like a physical blow. "I'm sick of you constantly seeking attention! Every little thing becomes a drama with you. Can't you see I'm busy with something important?"

Another contraction ripped through me, and I couldn't stop the whimper that escaped my lips. The taste of copper filled my mouth—I must have bitten my tongue during the fall.

*Please,* I whispered through the link, barely able to maintain the connection as pain overwhelmed me. *The baby—I think I'm losing—*

"One more word, Vanessa, and I'll strip you of your Luna title entirely. I mean it." The threat was cold, final. "Find someone else to coddle your dramatics."

The mind-link snapped shut with such force that it felt like a door slamming in my face. The sudden silence in my head was deafening, more painful than any physical injury.

I lay there on the cold concrete, my own blood pooling beneath me, feeling the life inside me slipping away with each passing second. The man who had sworn to love and protect me, who had claimed me as his mate, had just abandoned me and our child to die.

The realization cut deeper than the physical pain. This wasn't neglect or thoughtlessness—this was cruelty. Pure, calculated cruelty.

Another contraction seized me, and this time I felt something wet and warm between my legs that wasn't blood. My water had broken. The baby was coming—too early, too fast, in all the wrong circumstances.

"Help me," I whispered to the empty courtyard, my voice lost in the wailing of the emergency sirens. "Someone please help me."

But Joshua's words echoed in my mind: *Find someone else.*

As consciousness began to slip away at the edges, I realized with crystal clarity that I would have to do exactly that. Because the man I had called my mate, the father of the child I was losing, had just shown me exactly what I meant to him.

Nothing at all.