Genevieve’s POV

The room went completely still.

Doctors and nurses exchanged uneasy looks, disbelief written plainly across their faces.

“Alpha Virelli,” one of the senior nurses began carefully, “your Luna cannot donate. You heard the diagnosis. Her pregnancy is unstable. Even minor strain could cost her the pup.”

Nikolai’s expression didn’t shift.

“I heard you,” he replied calmly, stepping forward with quiet authority. “Continue.”

The attending physician hesitated. “Sir, this goes against medical protocol. We risk losing both mother and child.”

“I’m not concerned about protocol,” Nikolai interrupted, his tone turning razor-sharp. “You’re compensated generously. Do what you’re instructed to do.”

The air felt thin in my lungs. I stared at him, disbelief hollowing out my chest.

This was the male who had once sworn before the Moon Goddess to protect me. The Alpha who had promised my safety above all else. Now he was ordering a room full of professionals to gamble with our unborn child as if it were nothing more than a strategic inconvenience.

Nikolai’s jaw tightened as his gaze swept across the staff. “If anyone here refuses, I’ll have this hospital shut down by sunrise. I sit on half the board. Don’t test how far my reach extends.”

No one doubted him. The Virelli name carried weight in every corner of the territory.

The nurse turned back to me, her voice gentler. “Luna… we require your consent.”

I couldn’t look away from Nikolai.

“You said you wanted a pup,” I said slowly, my voice shaking despite my effort to steady it. “Now that you finally have one, you’re willing to sacrifice it over a convenient fever?”

His eyes darkened. “You were scheduled to terminate it this morning.”

“I changed my decision,” I shot back. “You heard the doctor.”

He exhaled in frustration. “Sabrina’s pregnancy is strong. Yours is fragile. The specialists already warned you that you may lose it regardless.”

My stomach dropped.

“So you’re choosing hers.”

“It isn’t about choosing,” he replied, though his tone suggested the opposite. “She’s unstable and needs blood. Your pregnancy may not even survive the first trimester.”

The words echoed emptily inside my skull.

This wasn’t clinical judgment.

It was preference.

And I wasn’t the one he preferred.

“You’ve already decided,” I said quietly.

For a brief second, something unreadable flickered across his face. Before he could respond, Sabrina let out another faint cough from the bed.

Nikolai turned instantly, returning to her side.

That was answer enough.

A strange calm settled over me.

Arguing would change nothing. His mind was made up. The staff were bound by his influence, just as I had been.

The nurse squeezed my arm gently. “Luna… we need a clear answer.”

I looked at Nikolai one final time.

He didn’t even glance back.

My throat tightened, but I forced the words out. “Do it.”

The doctor moved quickly. The needle pierced my skin, and dark red flowed through the tubing.

I didn’t flinch.

I didn’t cry.

I stared at the glossy white tiles beneath my feet and focused on breathing evenly.

At first, it was only a slight wave of dizziness.

Then it deepened.

My chest tightened sharply, and an icy weakness spread through my limbs.

Something was wrong.

I tried lifting my head, but my vision blurred at the edges. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, erratic and far too fast.

The nurse monitoring me glanced at the screen and paled. “Her blood pressure is dropping!”

“Stop the transfusion,” the doctor ordered urgently, rushing toward me. “She’s crashing!”

Sabrina whimpered from the bed.

“No!” Nikolai barked, shoving the doctor aside hard enough to make him stumble. “Keep it going. She needs it!”

“She’s stable!” one of the nurses shouted. “Her vitals are completely normal!”

“You don’t know that!” Nikolai roared. “Look at her. She’s in pain!”

A searing cramp tore through my abdomen, and a cry escaped me before I could suppress it.

Nikolai didn’t turn toward me.

Not once.

Every ounce of his attention remained fixed on Sabrina.

The room spun violently. My body felt distant, as if I were slipping outside of it. The taste of iron flooded my mouth.

So this was how it would end.

Not in battle. Not through a coup.

But in a hospital suite, discarded for another wolf’s deception.

Regret surged through me as Kael’s face rose in my mind. The way he had said finally, as though he had always known this reckoning would come. I had told him to wait.

I had hesitated.

Voices rose around me—doctors arguing, nurses protesting—but Nikolai stood unmoved, staring at Sabrina like she was the only life in the room that mattered.

My lips parted weakly.

“Moon Goddess… please…” I whispered, barely audible. “Protect my pup…”

The lights above me blurred into white streaks.

The shouting grew distant.

And then everything went dark.

Genevieve’s POV

When my eyes finally opened again, I almost wished they hadn’t.

Pain wrapped around me from the inside out, dull and relentless, as though my body had been torn apart and stitched back together without care. There was a hollow ache in my chest that felt heavier than the physical agony—a strange emptiness that no medicine could numb.

“Luna Virelli… you’re awake.”

A female doctor stood beside the bed, relief flickering briefly across her face. “We weren’t certain you would regain consciousness so soon.”

My throat felt scraped raw. My limbs were sluggish, foreign, as if they didn’t belong to me. I blinked against the harsh white lights overhead, disoriented and weak. For several seconds, I couldn’t piece together where I was or why my body felt like it had survived a battlefield.

Then memory struck like a blade.

The transfusion. Nikolai’s command. The sharp drop in pressure. The shouting. The darkness swallowing me whole.

My pulse spiked.

I turned my head toward the doctor slowly, dread creeping into every vein.

She was composed, professional—but I saw it in her eyes.

Sympathy.

“My pup…” The words scraped painfully from my throat. “Is my baby… alive?”

She hesitated.

That pause was enough.

My stomach plunged as if I had fallen from a cliff. The doctor drew a careful breath and shook her head.

“I’m deeply sorry,” she said gently. “We did everything within our ability. But the pregnancy could not be preserved.”

For a heartbeat, the world ceased to exist.

Then a sound tore out of me that didn’t feel human.

It rose from somewhere shattered deep inside my chest. My ribs felt as though they were collapsing inward. I couldn’t breathe properly. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t accept what she had said.

I had believed I had no tears left.

I was wrong.

Sobs wracked through me until my entire body trembled. My throat burned. Grief poured through me so violently it felt like it would split me open. I cried for the tiny heartbeat that had existed beneath my palm. For the child I had already imagined cradling. For the miracle I had chosen to protect.

And for the Alpha who had cost me everything.

A bitter part of me wished I had gone through with the termination that morning before hope had taken root. Losing the pup now—after I had chosen it—felt like being carved open while still breathing.

The doctor remained beside me quietly, allowing me the dignity of breaking.

Eventually, my sobs faded into uneven breathing. My hands shook as I wiped my face, though tears continued slipping down regardless.

Kael.

The name cut cleanly through the haze.

“What day is it?” I managed hoarsely.

“It’s Thursday,” she answered softly. “You’ve been unconscious for two days.”

Two days.

My mind calculated automatically. The three days Kael had given me were almost gone.

“I need my phone,” I said quickly, attempting to push myself upright despite the sharp protest of stitches and bruised muscle.

“It’s in the drawer beside you,” she said, moving to assist, but I was already reaching for it.

My fingers trembled as I typed.

—I accept. Meet me at the sanctuary in three hours.—

The reply came almost instantly.

—Finally. I was beginning to think you’d hesitate forever.—

I stared at the message before answering.

—I won’t.—

The doctor studied me carefully. “Is there anything else you require?”

I forced a brittle smile. “Did anyone visit?”

Her expression shifted.

“No,” she admitted gently. “No one has come.”

Of course.

Nikolai hadn’t appeared. Sabrina hadn’t appeared. The pack I had bled for hadn’t even checked whether I was alive.

Strangely, the pain I expected didn’t arrive.

There was only emptiness.

A void where something precious had once lived.

I turned my face toward the wall and lay there until I heard the soft click of the door closing.

After a while, I pushed the blanket aside.

Every movement sent sharp waves of pain through my body. My stitches pulled. My muscles screamed in protest. I ignored all of it.

A nurse entering the room froze when she saw me trying to stand.

“Luna Virelli, you cannot leave your bed. You’ve suffered severe blood loss. You require further monitoring—”

“I’m leaving,” I said evenly.

She blinked in surprise. “You haven’t been cleared for discharge. We still need to complete—”

“I am not requesting permission,” I interrupted calmly, though my voice held no warmth. “Bring whatever documents require my signature.”

She hesitated, clearly torn between hospital procedure and the unspoken warning in my expression.

After a moment, she nodded and stepped out.

When she returned with the paperwork, I signed without reading a single line.

Standing upright felt like stepping through flames. My legs trembled under my own weight. My back ached with each breath. But enduring pain was easier than remaining in that room another minute.

I gathered my belongings and stepped into the corridor.

Halfway down the hall, something slowed my pace.

Through the glass window of a private suite, I saw Nikolai.

He stood beside Sabrina’s bed, posture relaxed, shoulders loose. She was sitting upright, laughing softly at something he had said. Her cheeks were no longer pale. No frantic monitors surrounded her.

They looked… comfortable.

Untouched.

Unaffected by the chaos that had nearly ended my life.

Nikolai leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

And neither of them looked even slightly concerned.

Genevieve’s POV

Nikolai sat beside Sabrina’s hospital bed, a porcelain bowl balanced in one hand and a spoon in the other. He blew lightly across the surface of the soup before lifting it with careful precision to her lips. His eyes never left her face, and the tenderness in his expression bordered on reverence.

Once, that sight would have shattered me.

Now, there was nothing.

No jealousy tightening my chest. No anger clawing at my throat. Not even sorrow.

Only a vast, hollow quiet.

I turned silently, intending to leave before either of them noticed my presence. Unfortunately, fate had never favored me.

“Genevieve?”

His voice reached me just before I could disappear down the corridor.

I stopped, my jaw tightening, and slowly turned back.

The softness that had warmed his features moments earlier vanished the instant our eyes met. Something closer to unease replaced it.

“I didn’t realize you were conscious,” he said, rising from the chair. “How are you feeling?”

I didn’t answer.

I only looked at him.

The silence stretched, deliberate and heavy. I didn’t break eye contact.

He did.

“What you did,” he began carefully, lifting his gaze again, “it made a difference. Sabrina is stable. The pup is strong. You… you saved them.”

A faint, humorless sound escaped my throat before I could stop it. It wasn’t loud, but it was sharp enough to make him stiffen.

Sabrina placed her hand protectively over her stomach, her expression soft and luminous. “Nikolai hasn’t left my side for a second,” she said gently, her eyes glinting. “He’s been wonderful.”

I didn’t react.

There was nothing left in me to give them.

I turned again, but Nikolai moved quickly, reaching toward me.

“Wait.”

I paused, not out of care, but out of curiosity.

“I’m arranging a gathering tonight,” he continued, speaking as though the past days hadn’t nearly cost me my life. “To celebrate your recovery… and Sabrina being discharged safely. It’s been tense. I thought it would help morale to bring the pack together. My father will be there. He’s asked about you.”

I remained silent.

He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Let me drive you back. We’re returning to the estate.”

“I won’t be going there,” I replied evenly.

His brows drew together. “Then where?”

“The sanctuary.”

My tone remained calm.

Kael had assured me that once I gave my answer, the sanctuary would be protected beyond Nikolai’s reach. I intended to ensure every legal safeguard and financial barrier was firmly secured. Nikolai would never hold that place over me again.

“The sanctuary?” he repeated, clearly puzzled. “For what reason?”

“There are matters I need to address.”

Sabrina suddenly brightened. “Oh, that sounds lovely,” she said lightly. “I’ve always meant to visit. It was our father’s passion project, wasn’t it?”

I glanced at her with quiet disbelief.

She had mocked that place countless times. Called it sentimental excess. A waste of pack resources.

Nikolai nodded without hesitation. “Then we’ll all go together.”

I studied him.

This was the same Alpha who had once complained that the sanctuary drained funds better invested elsewhere. The same male who dismissed every renovation proposal I brought to him.

Now, because Sabrina suggested it, he agreed instantly.

A faint scoff slipped from me.

“Very well,” I said coolly. “You’re welcome to come.”

Relief flickered across his face, almost hopeful.

“But before we leave,” I added, reaching into my bag, “I need you to sign something.”

He straightened slightly. “What document?”

I handed him the folded papers I had kept with me since the night he brought Sabrina into our home.

He skimmed the top page. “What is this?”

“My discharge forms,” I replied calmly.

He hesitated.

Nikolai Virelli was meticulous with paperwork. He never signed contracts or agreements without reading every clause, every condition. His caution was legendary.

For a fleeting second, I saw that instinct stir.

Then Sabrina shifted on the bed.

“I’m feeling tired,” she murmured softly. “Can we leave soon?”

Nikolai’s focus snapped back to her. Whatever scrutiny he might have applied vanished.

He signed.

Without reading a single line.

He handed the papers back absentmindedly and immediately turned to assist Sabrina as she rose, adjusting her coat and murmuring reassurances.

I slipped the document into my bag, a faint, controlled smile touching my lips.

“Thank you,” I said quietly. “I’m free now.”

He didn’t catch the meaning behind my words.

He was too occupied steadying Sabrina, completely unaware that he had just signed away far more than a simple hospital release.