"I want an abortion."

The words come out raw, desperate. I'm still in the hospital bed, Marcus hovering near the door like he wants to disappear into the walls.

Raylan's expression doesn't change. "No."

"It's my body. My choice. I won't—I can't—" My voice breaks. "Please, Raylan. Please don't make me do this."

He moves closer, and his Alpha aura fills the room like smoke, thick and suffocating. I can't breathe. Can't think.

"You will carry this pup, Phoebe." His voice drops into that tone—the Alpha Voice that makes every wolf in the pack bow their head. "You will not harm it. You will birth my heir."

The command slams into me like a physical blow. My body locks up, every muscle freezing against my will. Inside my mind, Sera howls, a sound of pure agony that tears through my consciousness. She's trapped. We're both trapped.

I try to move my hand toward my stomach, try to fight the command, but my arm won't obey. It's like invisible chains wrap around every part of me.

"No," I whisper, but even my voice sounds weak. Broken.

Raylan turns to Marcus. "She's to remain under observation for another week. Then she returns to the Alpha suite."

He walks out without looking back.

---

Two months crawl by like years.

The Alpha suite has become my prison. Guards stand outside the door—not my loyal Gammas, but warriors I don't recognize. Warriors who answer to Piper, not me.

The Alpha Command holds me like invisible shackles. Every time I think about ending this nightmare, my body refuses to cooperate. I can't even press too hard on my stomach. Can't fall deliberately. Can't do anything that might harm the thing growing inside me.

Sera has gone silent. I reach for her constantly, but she's buried so deep I can barely feel her presence.

Tonight, rain hammers against the windows. The sound matches the chaos in my head. I pace the bedroom, my hand unconsciously touching the mate mark on my neck. Still cold. Still wrong.

The bathroom window. I've been watching it for days, measuring the distance to the ground. Three floors. High enough.

The Alpha Command won't let me hurt myself directly, but maybe—maybe if I fall, if the impact is severe enough, my wolf healing won't be fast enough to save the pregnancy. Maybe I can end this without technically breaking the command.

I climb onto the toilet, then the windowsill. Rain soaks through my nightgown immediately. The ledge is narrow, slippery. Perfect.

I edge along the wall, my bare feet struggling for purchase on the wet stone. Below, the courtyard stretches out, dark and empty. Just a few more steps. Just a little further.

The bedroom door explodes inward.

Raylan's there, his eyes wild, his Alpha aura blazing. He must have felt my intent through the bond—that cursed connection that won't let me go even as it slowly kills me.

"Phoebe!" His voice cracks with something that might be fear, but I don't care anymore.

I lean forward, ready to let gravity take me.

His hand closes around my wrist like a vice. He yanks me backward with enough force to slam me against his chest. We crash onto the bathroom floor together, and he pins me there, his weight crushing.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Not fear in his voice now. Fury. Pure, burning fury.

"Let me go," I gasp. "Just let me go."

"Never." His grip tightens. "You're mine, Phoebe. That pup is mine. And you will obey."

---

The next morning, everything changes.

My loyal guards are gone, replaced by six warriors who watch me like I'm a criminal. Raylan dismisses them all with a wave, then produces a length of chain from behind his back.

Silver-infused. I can smell it from across the room.

"No," I back away, but there's nowhere to go. "Raylan, please—"

He grabs my ankle and locks the shackle around it with a click that sounds like a death sentence. The other end attaches to the bedpost. The silver burns, a constant ache that makes Sera whimper.

"You brought this on yourself," he says, his voice flat. Empty.

Marcus arrives an hour later, carrying a glass vial filled with dark liquid. His hands shake as he approaches the bed.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, not meeting my eyes. "Alpha's orders."

The tonic tastes like dirt and despair. It burns going down, and I gag, but Raylan's there, holding my jaw, forcing me to swallow.

"This will strengthen the pregnancy," Marcus explains, his voice barely audible. "Even if you... even if there's trauma, the pup will survive."

I want to scream. Want to fight. But the silver chain saps my strength, and the Alpha Command holds me frozen.

Piper appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame like she owns the place. The moonstone necklace—my necklace, the one Raylan was supposed to give me—glints at her throat.

She smiles, slow and satisfied, her fingers playing with the pendant.

"Comfortable, Luna?" she asks, her voice dripping with false concern.

I close my eyes and turn my face to the wall.

The chain rattles with every breath.

Piper comes every day now.

She brings trays of food I've always hated—overcooked meat, bitter greens, bread so dry it sticks in my throat. She sets them on the bedside table with a smile that never reaches her eyes, then settles into the chair Raylan uses at night, crossing her legs like she's holding court.

"The pack is thriving under my guidance," she says, examining her nails. The moonstone necklace catches the light. My necklace. "Everyone's so relieved to have competent leadership again. You understand, don't you? A Luna who can't even leave her room isn't much use to anyone."

I don't answer. I've learned that silence is the only weapon I have left.

"Raylan's been sleeping in the guest room," she continues, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "He comes to me when he can't sleep. We talk for hours. He tells me things he never told you."

The silver chain burns against my ankle. I focus on that pain instead of her words.

"Once the heir is born, you'll go to the Omega quarters. Or maybe an asylum—somewhere quiet where you can't cause any more trouble." She leans forward, her vanilla perfume making my stomach turn. "I'll raise the child as my own. Raylan and I have already discussed it."

After she leaves, I pull the journal from under the mattress. My hands shake as I write, documenting every visit, every threat, every detail. The words blur together, but I keep writing. Someday, someone will read this. Someday, they'll know the truth.

---

Four months in, my belly swells like a tumor.

I wake in the middle of the night to burning pain across my arms. Blood streaks the sheets, fresh scratches running from my wrists to my elbows. My nails are red.

Sera. She's fighting back the only way she can—clawing at the thing growing inside me while my conscious mind sleeps.

*Get it out,* she snarls in my head, her voice raw and feral. *Get it OUT.*

But the Alpha Command holds even in sleep. My body heals the scratches within minutes, leaving only faint pink lines that fade by morning.

The next night, it happens again. This time, the scratches are deeper, angrier. One crosses my swollen stomach, and I wake to Sera's howl of rage echoing through my skull.

Raylan finds me in the morning, blood dried on my arms and belly.

He doesn't say a word. Just leaves and returns with leather straps.

"No," I whisper, but he's already grabbing my wrists.

He binds my hands together, then ties them to the headboard. The leather is soft, expensive, but it might as well be silver for how trapped I feel.

"This is for your own good," he says, his voice flat. "And the pup's."

That night, he drags the chair to the corner of the room and sits, watching me like I'm a wild animal that might bolt. His eyes glow faintly in the darkness, never blinking, never looking away.

I close my eyes and pretend he's not there. Pretend I'm anywhere but here, bound and pregnant with a monster's child while my mate guards his precious legacy.

Sera whimpers, exhausted from her futile rebellion.

We're both prisoners now.

---

Six months. The thing inside me kicks and rolls, and I hate it with every fiber of my being.

Then the alarms start.

The sound tears through the pack house, sharp and urgent. Rogue attack. Northern border.

Raylan's on his feet instantly, his Alpha aura blazing. He looks at me, bound and chained, then at the door.

"Don't move," he says, like I have a choice.

He's gone in seconds, his footsteps pounding down the hall. Shouts echo through the building. Warriors mobilizing. Piper's voice, high and commanding, directing her guards.

The pack house empties fast. Through the window, I see wolves streaming toward the northern tree line, their forms blurring as they shift mid-run.

Silence settles over the room like snow.

I test the leather straps. Still tight. The silver chain still burns. But something's different. The constant pressure of being watched is gone.

The door opens.

Elena Cross stands in the doorway, her Beta aura muted, her face pale. She's wearing her battle gear, ready to join the fight, but she's not moving.

Our eyes meet.

She crosses the room in three strides and sets something on the bedside table. A key. Small, silver, gleaming.

The key to the shackles.

"I have to go," she says, her voice barely audible. "The northern border needs every warrior."

She turns and walks out, leaving the door open behind her.

I stare at the key. My heart hammers against my ribs.

Outside, the sounds of battle grow distant. The pack house is empty. Unguarded.

This is my chance. Maybe my only chance.

I reach for the key with my bound hands, my fingers stretching, straining.

Almost there.