My Alpha Forced Me to Miscarry His Heir

The scent of rain and pine still clung to Austin’s skin as I smoothed the collar of his dress shirt. It was four in the morning, the hour when the Silver Moon Pack was silent, and the only time I was allowed to exist in this room.

For eight years, this had been my life. While the pack slept, I was the hands that prepared the Alpha’s tonic, the shadow that organized his schedule, and the warmth in his bed. But the moment the sun crested the horizon, I became Ivy Williams, the wolfless Omega, invisible and insignificant.

"Turn around," Austin murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

I obeyed instantly, my body humming at the command. His hands, large and calloused, rested on my waist. For a heartbeat, he buried his face in the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply. The bond between us—that secret, golden thread that only we could feel—pulled taut. In these stolen seconds, I wasn't just an Omega. I was his mate.

"You smell like lavender," he whispered, his lips grazing my pulse point. "It soothes the wolf."

I leaned back against him, closing my eyes. "You have a long day, Austin. The delegation from Blood River arrives at noon."

At the mention of the neighboring pack, his body went rigid. The tenderness evaporated like mist in the morning sun. He pulled away abruptly, the loss of his warmth leaving a chill on my skin.

"Right," he said, his tone shifting to the cold, clipped cadence of Alpha Scott. He walked to the mirror, adjusting his tie without looking at me. "That’s why we need to talk."

I busied myself with the tray of herbal tea, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my gut. "I’ve already arranged the guest quarters for Alpha Gordon and his daughter. The kitchen staff has the menu prepared."

"Good." He turned, his eyes dark and unreadable. "But you won't be managing the kitchen today, Ivy."

My hands paused over the teapot. "Sir?"

"Stella Gordon is… particular," Austin said, avoiding my gaze. "She’s coming to discuss the alliance. It is crucial that everything appears strong. Flawless."

I knew what he meant. An Omega—especially one without a wolf—running the household looked weak. It looked like the Silver Moon Pack couldn't afford a proper staff. I lowered my head. "I understand. I’ll stay in the laundry rooms. I won't be seen."

"No," he said, the word heavy. "That’s not enough. Stella has a nose like a bloodhound. If she catches your scent on me, or anywhere near the main floor, she’ll ask questions. Questions I cannot answer right now."

Panic flared in my chest. "Austin, my mother… she’s in the infirmary. Her fever spiked last night. I need to be able to check on her during my breaks."

He finally looked at me, and for a second, I saw a flicker of regret. But it was quickly swallowed by the steel of his ambition.

"Beta Marcus is waiting outside," Austin said. "He will escort you to the lower levels."

The lower levels. The dungeon.

"The cells?" My voice trembled. "Austin, you can’t be serious. Those are for rogues. For criminals."

"It’s for your protection," he lied. I could smell the deception, sour and sharp. "The Blood River warriors are aggressive. I don't want any accidents."

"Please," I stepped forward, reaching for his hand, but he stepped back. "Don't lock me up. I promise I’ll stay hidden. I just need to be able to mind-link Dr. Chen if Mom gets worse."

His jaw tightened. The air in the room grew heavy, charged with the crushing weight of his aura. He wasn't asking anymore.

"**You will go with Marcus, Ivy.**"

The Alpha command slammed into me, forcing the air from my lungs. My knees buckled, and my head bowed instinctively in submission. My body moved without my permission, turning toward the door even as tears pricked my eyes. I couldn't fight it. I was just an Omega, and he was my King.

Beta Marcus was waiting in the hallway, his expression grim. He didn't speak as he led me down the stairs, past the kitchens, past the laundry, down into the damp, cold stone of the pack house basement.

He opened the heavy iron door of the furthest cell. The walls were lined with silver—a metal that didn't burn me since I had no wolf, but it had a different, more terrifying effect. It blocked the mind-link. It was a sensory deprivation tank for werewolves.

"I'm sorry, Ivy," Marcus muttered, refusing to meet my eyes as he ushered me in.

"Marcus, please," I begged, gripping the bars as the door swung shut. "My mom. Just tell Dr. Chen to check on her."

The lock clicked with a sound of finality. "Alpha's orders. No communication until the delegation leaves tomorrow."

He walked away, his footsteps fading into silence.

I sank onto the thin, musty cot in the corner. The silence was absolute. I reached out with my mind, trying to find the familiar hum of the pack, the mental thread that connected me to my mother.

Nothing. Just a gray, static void.

"Mom?" I whispered into the dark. "Mom, can you hear me?"

Silence answered.

I curled into a ball, shivering as the damp cold seeped into my bones. Why? Why was he doing this? Was an alliance with Stella Gordon worth treating his mate like a prisoner?

Suddenly, a wave of dizziness washed over me. The room spun, and bile rose in my throat. I gagged, clutching my stomach, expecting the usual emptiness of hunger or stress.

But then, I felt it.

It was faint, like the flutter of a butterfly’s wing against my soul. A second rhythm. A tiny, rapid *thump-thump, thump-thump* echoing within me.

My breath hitched. My hands trembled as they moved to my flat stomach. The realization hit me with the force of a physical blow, shattering my fear and replacing it with a terrifying, overwhelming awe.

I wasn't just an Omega anymore. I wasn't just a prisoner.

I was pregnant. And I was carrying the Alpha's heir.