Kaela POV:

My screams for help faded into ragged sobs, then into silence. The only answer was the relentless thud of my own failing heart. Strength bled out of me along with the warmth pooling on the dirt floor. My consciousness began to fray at the edges, the darkness behind my eyes starting to feel like a welcome blanket.

Just as I was about to let go, a sound.

The groan of rusty hinges.

The iron door creaked open, spilling a rectangle of dim light onto the floor.

Ethelene stood there, flanked by two grim-faced servants. Behind them, a familiar, stooped figure clutched a leather bag.

Dr. Evans. The pack doctor.

A surge of adrenaline, a last desperate flicker of hope, shot through me.

"Doctor..." I stretched a trembling, blood-smeared hand towards him. "My baby... please, save my baby..."

Dr. Evans's eyes widened in horror at the sight of the blood. He took a step forward, his medical instincts kicking in.

But Ethelene's arm shot out, barring his way. She looked down at me, her face a mask of false sympathy. "Oh, my. What a mess. So much blood."

Her eyes, however, were glittering with triumph.

She turned to Dr. Evans, her voice dropping to a frigid whisper. "The Alpha has given his command. This... thing... is not to be born."

Dr. Evans froze. He looked from Ethelene's hard face to my bleeding form on the floor. His lips moved, but no sound came out. He was a good man, but a weak one. And Ethelene was the Alpha's mate.

Then, something happened that made the last ember of hope in my chest turn to ash.

The pack bond. The invisible thread that had connected me to my father since the moment I was born—it flickered. For one desperate, stupid heartbeat, I thought he had finally heard me. That he was coming.

Then his voice, cold and final, pressed into my mind for the last time.

I have no daughter.

And the link went dead.

Not blocked. Not silenced. Dead. Snapped like a rotted rope. He hadn't just abandoned me to this. He had personally, deliberately severed the bond. In the eyes of the pack, in the eyes of the Moon Goddess herself, I no longer existed.

A sound left me that I didn't recognize as my own. It wasn't a scream or a sob. It was something more final. The sound of a girl who had just been unmade by her own father's will.

Her gaze was pure venom. "You know what must be done, Doctor. The pack's honor is paramount."

Suddenly, there was a frantic scrabbling from the hallway. My mother, Genevieve, burst past the servants, her face wild with terror.

"No! Ethelene, you can't!" she shrieked, her eyes fixed on me. "That is Jeffry's grandchild!"

Ethelene let out a short, sharp laugh. "A bastard has no claim. It does not deserve to be the Alpha's grandchild. Genevieve, you will control yourself. Or I will not object to you joining her in death."

The two servants immediately seized my mother. They dragged her away, her desperate cries for her daughter and her grandchild echoing down the hall until they were cut off by a slamming door.

The last light in my world went out.

My father. Even my father had sanctioned the murder of his own grandchild.

Ethelene knelt beside me, her expensive perfume filling my nostrils, a sickeningly sweet scent of death. She savored the utter despair on my face for a long moment. Then, she opened a small, ornate wooden box.

Inside, nestled on a bed of black velvet, lay a single, dark, twisted root.

Dr. Evans gasped, his voice a strangled whisper. "Wolfsbane! My lady, that will kill her!"

Wolfsbane. The legendary poison. A potent abortifacient in small doses, a lethal toxin in larger ones. It was a death sentence.

Ethelene shot him a look of pure contempt. "I am simply... cleaning up a mess. It is the Alpha's will. You saw nothing, Doctor. Do you understand?"

Sweat beaded on Dr. Evans's forehead. He looked at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of pity and fear. Finally, he gave a short, jerky nod and lowered his head in shame.

Ethelene smiled, a predator's smile. She pinched my jaw, her long nails digging into my skin.

I summoned the last of my strength and twisted my head away. The bitter root fell from her fingers, landing in the dirt.

Smack.

Her hand cracked across my face, the force of it snapping my head back. "Insolent bitch!" she hissed. "You dare defy me?"

She barked an order. The servants pinned my arms and legs to the ground. Another forced my jaw open, the pressure on my cheeks agonizing.

Ethelene picked up the Wolfsbane, brushing the dirt from it with a delicate finger. Her smile was back, more terrifying than ever.

"Don't worry, dear," she cooed, her voice a poisonous lullaby. "Once the little problem in your belly is gone, I have another special gift for you."

She pushed the gritty, bitter-smelling root into my mouth.

I gagged, my body bucking against the hands holding me down.

"Swallow," she commanded.

Her fingers clamped over my nose, cutting off my air.

Instinct took over. I swallowed.

The root's juice was fire, searing a path down my throat and into my stomach.

The effect was instantaneous.

A pain, unlike anything I had ever known, exploded in my womb. It was not the cramping from before. This was a thousand knives, twisting, tearing, shredding me from the inside out.

A scream, high, piercing, and inhuman, was ripped from my lungs. My back arched violently, lifting me off the floor, before I slammed back down into the bloody mud.

Through a haze of agony, I saw Ethelene rise gracefully to her feet. She smoothed the front of her dress, as if brushing away a speck of dust.

She turned to the trembling doctor. "Now," she said, her voice calm and even. "You may 'treat' her. Just make sure she doesn't die."

Her face, the last thing I saw before the pain consumed me, was a mask of pure, ecstatic satisfaction. She was not a woman. She was a monster, dancing on the grave of my child.