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.

Genevieve’s POV

When we reached the car, Sabrina moved quickly, as though the front passenger seat already belonged to her. She reached for the handle without hesitation.

To my mild surprise, Nikolai caught her wrist—not harshly, but firmly enough to stop her.

“Wait,” he said, then glanced toward me. “Genevieve… you can sit in the front.”

There was something almost regretful in his tone, as if offering me the seat could somehow balance everything else he had done.

“Sabrina can sit in the back.”

“No,” Sabrina protested at once, her lips forming a delicate pout. “I feel sick in the backseat. The pup’s been making me dizzy all day, Nikolai.”

I released a slow breath through my nose.

Nikolai paused, clearly calculating how to keep the peace between us.

“It’s irrelevant,” I said calmly. “She can take the front.”

“But—”

“I said it’s fine.” My voice sharpened just slightly. “I truly don’t care where I sit.”

A brief silence followed.

Sabrina’s mouth curved in quiet victory.

Nikolai frowned but didn’t push the matter further.

I eased myself into the backseat, biting down on the pain that flared through my body. Every bruise and stitch reminded me of the hospital bed I had only just left behind. My muscles protested even the smallest movement.

I rested my head against the cool window and focused on the passing streets, separating myself from the scene unfolding just feet away.

Five minutes into the drive, Sabrina began.

Her hand drifted casually onto Nikolai’s thigh. The movement was slow, deliberate. I didn’t turn my head, but I caught the reflection in the side mirror—the subtle slide of her fingers, the sideways glance she threw in my direction.

Nikolai stiffened.

“Sabrina,” he warned quietly, removing her hand.

She blinked at him with exaggerated innocence. “What?”

When he didn’t answer, she placed her hand back on his leg, this time moving higher.

“I said stop,” he said more firmly.

Instantly, her eyes filled with tears. She withdrew her hand and covered her face.

“Why are you snapping at me?” she whimpered. “I’m pregnant. You’re upsetting me.”

Nikolai exhaled heavily, irritation dissolving into concern. “I’m not snapping. Just… not while she’s here.”

He didn’t say my name.

As though I were nothing more than a presence in the background of my own life.

Sabrina sniffled softly before leaning forward to open the glove compartment. “I’m just looking for tissues,” she murmured.

What she retrieved was not tissue.

She held up a scrap of red lace between her fingers, letting out a soft laugh.

“Oh, Nikolai,” she said in a sugary tone. “Remember this? That night we never made it to the hotel? You pulled me onto your lap right here—”

“That’s enough,” Nikolai cut in tightly, his eyes fixed ahead on the road.

She gave a small shrug. “Relax. Genevieve understands it’s hormones. Pregnancy makes everything feel… heightened.” Her hand drifted back to his thigh.

This time, he didn’t move it away.

Through the rearview mirror, his eyes flicked toward me.

For a brief second, our gazes locked.

I looked away first.

There was nothing left in me for him to read.

—

The moment the car rolled to a stop in front of the sanctuary gates, I stepped out without waiting.

I didn’t look back.

I passed through the iron entrance and into the building my father had raised with his own hands long before the territory trembled at his name. The scent of aged wood and disinfectant wrapped around me. For an instant, memory pressed hard against my chest, but I forced myself to keep moving.

Mr. Ronan, the administrator, glanced up from his desk when I entered his office.

His eyes widened. “Miss Genevieve,” he greeted warmly, rising immediately. “We didn’t know you were coming.”

“I won’t keep you long,” I said. “There are urgent matters we need to address.”

We reviewed security logs, financial statements, and property deeds. I ensured every clause was airtight, every layer of protection reinforced. By the time we finished, I felt steadier than I had in days.

Then a scream shattered the calm.

It wasn’t playful.

It was terrified.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

Another cry followed, sharper and desperate.

I didn’t hesitate. I rushed from the office, Mr. Ronan close behind me.

The scent reached me first.

Smoke.

Thick. Bitter.

It scraped down my throat immediately.

The screams were coming from the west wing—the dormitory housing the youngest pups.

I ran toward it, dread coiling tightly through my muscles.

When I reached the corridor, I stopped short.

Flames climbed along the far wall near the emergency exit. Smoke curled along the ceiling in heavy waves. Children were crying, some clustered near the stairwell, others coughing as staff tried to usher them away from the spreading fire.

For one suspended heartbeat, everything felt unreal.

Then instinct took over.

“Get them out!” I shouted, my voice cutting sharply through the chaos. “Use the east exit! Move now!”

My father’s sanctuary was burning.