Bella

When I didn't say anything, he kissed me roughly. My breath became unsteady as my back pressed against the mattress. His sudden weight pinned me down, making it clear he had no intention of letting me go.

The room felt dark and hot. His body surrounded me, his hands were firm and demanding, and his mouth was rough on my skin. There was no gentleness or hesitation; only urgency and control, as if he decided to take what he wanted before thought could catch up.

My legs locked around him without me realizing when it happened. I gripped his shoulders, my body reacting faster than my mind could keep up. I knew where I was. I knew who he was. I knew what this was.

And I didn't stop him.

Harry slowly took off my clothes, and I removed his. When I saw his member, I swallowed hard as my clit hardened.

"I will take it slowly," he said, spreading my legs before thrusting into me. I winced.

He moved slowly at first, and a loud moan escaped my lips. 

Then suddenly, once I was comfortable, he moved faster. It was as if he was trying to burn something out of himself. His breath grew heavy, and his grip tightened whenever I made a sound. He never asked if I was ready or if it was too much. He didn't slow down either. He pressed closer and deeper into my space. His control was physical and precise, as if he needed to feel that I was there, that this was real. 

"Quiet," he whispered once, his voice low and deep. His hand slid up to my throat, not squeezing, just holding me there to remind me who was in charge. 

I nodded, even though my chest felt tight, even though my body shook under him, even though part of me wanted to pull away while the other part wanted him closer. 

I had wanted him for too long to pretend this wasn't everything. 

The bed shifted as he moved, the sheets tangled beneath us while the night stretched on without any sense of time. There was no tenderness, no kisses meant to convey something. There were only mouths, hands, and heat. His focus was on possession, while mine was on surviving the way my body kept responding.

I hated myself for how easily I gave in.

I hated that my body welcomed him, that my thoughts got blurry, that I stopped thinking about tomorrow and only focused on what was happening right now. I knew this had no future, and also definitely knew it would end badly, he would wake up and regret it. Still, I held on and wanted more.

Harry barely spoke. When he did, it was commands, low and sharp. He told me where to put my hands, how to stay still, and when not to move.

This wasn't love. This was hunger and denial colliding.

Later, when the room cooled and his breathing slowed, I lay beneath him, half-aware. My body still buzzed. My thoughts felt slow and scattered. His arm rested heavily across my waist. His face turned away from me, already distant even in contact.

That was when it happened.

It wasn't gentle. It wasn't even welcoming.

It hit me all at once, very deep, like something inside my chest locked into place without asking for permission. My breath caught painfully. My body tensed hard as panic swept through me, sudden and absolute.

I knew.

I didn't need words or confirmation. The bond snapped into place with a force that stole the air from my lungs. It was demanding, permanent, and terrifying.

Mate.

My heart started racing, fear crashing into me so fast it made my head spin. This wasn't supposed to happen. This wasn't how it was meant to feel.

I turned slightly, my hand lifting instinctively to press against my chest, as if I could push the feeling away.

Harry stirred immediately.

He woke like a predator sensing movement, his body reacting before his mind, his hand tightening around my waist, his breath hitching once as his eyes opened.

For a brief second, instinct pulled him toward me. I felt it, the draw, his body leaning in, his breath brushing my neck.

Then understanding hit him.

He froze.

His hand dropped away from me so fast it felt like rejection in physical form. He sat up abruptly, shifting to the edge of the bed, his back to me, tension radiating off him in quick waves.

"No," he said quietly, like he was correcting a mistake.

My chest tightened. "Harry.."

"Don't," he snapped, turning just enough for me to see his face, his expression hard, controlled, afraid in a way he would never admit. "Don't say anything."

The silence between us stretched, very suffocating.

He stood, pulling on his clothes with quick, rough movements, putting distance between us piece by piece, like proximity itself was dangerous.

"This didn't mean anything," he said, his voice cold now, deliberate. "You understand that."

I sat up slowly, the sheets clutched around me, my body still shaking, the bond pulsing painfully through my chest with every breath.

"Yes," I said, because I knew what he needed to hear.

"You will forget this," he continued. "You will not speak about it. To anyone."

He didn't say the word. He didn't acknowledge what had happened, what existed between us now whether he wanted it or not.

"And if you think this changes anything," he added, his gaze sharp and warning, "you're wrong."

I nodded. Though, tears welled in my eyes but didn't cry nor did I argue. 

I dressed quietly, my movements careful, controlled, my hands steady even as everything inside me cracked. When I stood, he didn't even look at me.

I left the room without another word.

The corridor outside was dim and silent, but the moment I stepped into it, I felt the way the air seemed to tighten around me.

I kept walking, my steps even and my face blank. My chest was burning with every pulse of the bond reminding me of what I could not undo.

By the time I reached the far end of the hall, my legs gave out.

I slid down the wall, my breath breaking, my hand pressed hard against my chest as the bond surged again, relentless and unforgiving.

Bella

Weeks passed, and Harry did not come to me and then I realized what he had said that night, he meant it.

He didn't look at me in the halls, didn't acknowledge my presence, didn't pretend we shared anything beyond pack space. It was like that night had been erased for him, sealed off and buried, while it stayed alive inside my chest, pulsing and demanding whether I wanted it or not.

The bond never eased. It stayed tight and constant, a dull ache that flared whenever he was close and burned worse when he wasn't. I learned how to breathe through it, how to keep my face neutral, how to function while carrying something that heavy alone.

Brianna was everywhere again.

She walked beside him during meetings, laughed with him at gatherings, touched his arm like it was already hers. People watched them and nodded like the future was still on schedule, but then, what could I do? Nothing but go get back to work.

~

Rogue activity picked up near the borders, and everyone was affected. Guards doubled shifts, patrols stretched wider, supply runs were rushed and tense. I was assigned to help with one of them, moving food and medicine to an outer post before nightfall.

One moment we were loading crates, the next there was shouting, metal clashing, bodies moving too quickly to track. A rogue broke through the trees, his eyes wild, his focus locked on the group ahead of me.

I didn't think and acted immediately.

I grabbed the closest thing I could and threw it hard enough to draw his attention, yelling for the others to run. They hesitated for half a second, then moved, and that half second cost me.

The rogue turned on me with a snarl, his strike sharp and brutal. Pain exploded through my side, warm and wet, and I stumbled back, barely staying upright. Another hit sent me to the ground, the world tilting as I tried to crawl away.

Backup arrived before it got worse.

Hands grabbed me, voices blurred together, and then I was being lifted, rushed, carried through the gates. Blood soaked my clothes, my head spinning and my chest tight with fear, for a moment, I thought I was going to die.

By the time we reached the pack hospital, I was shaking.

They laid me on a bed, lights too bright, hands everywhere, voices urgent but very distant. Someone pressed down on my side, another cleaned the wound, and all I could focus on was one thing.

Harry.

I waited patiently, my eyes focused on the door. I knew I definitely was too stupid, waiting like he could rush in with a worried look on his face and be concerned.

I waited and waited, praying silently he was going to come look after me.

"I'm so stupid," I laughed sadly. Yes, I was really so stupid to think the Alpha, who never even thought that might together meant something was going to care for me.

Time blurred and pain came and went in waves. At some point, the bleeding slowed, and the room quieted. I lay there staring at the ceiling, exhausted and empty.

Still exhausted, I knew I couldn't afford to stay here, especially as an omega. Omega weren't always treated right and even if you were sick. Omega's death wasn't so important.

That was when I spotted Harry.

Not coming toward me.

Sitting across the room.

Harry was beside another bed, his body angled protectively, his hand wrapped around Brianna's like she was something fragile. She was talking, her voice soft and annoyed, gesturing at a small cut on her arm.

He listened, nodded at everything she was saying and stayed right next to her. Anger flared up my chest, not because I was jealous, I never even cared about them being together but because he really knew I was here and badly injured and didn't even try checking up.

I watched from my bed, my body heavy, my chest hollowing out in real time.

He didn't even look my way.

Not once.

That was the moment something inside me went quiet.

I turned my face away and stared at the wall, letting the truth settle without fighting it. Whatever I had hoped for, whatever part of me still waited, it ended there.

~ 

When I was discharged days later, because I was forced to wait behind no matter what. The pack wouldn't want to be rumoured about an omega being dead after saving the pack. I walked out alone.

Recovery was slow. The wound healed, but the exhaustion stayed. I felt wrong in ways I couldn't explain, dizzy sometimes, nauseous at odd hours, my body out of sync with itself.

Dr. Moore noticed. He had informed me to come to the Pack hospital twice a week for a month before I get completely healed and he was the only one in the pack that was family to me because before my parents passed away, they were all close.

He ran tests quietly, asked gentle questions, watched my reactions more than my answers. When he came back with the results, his face was already tight.

"Bella," he said carefully, closing the door behind him, "you're pregnant."

The room went still.

I stared at him, my mind refusing to connect the word to anything real. Pregnant meant future. Pregnant meant consequences. Pregnant meant I was no longer invisible.

"I need you to listen to me," he continued, lowering his voice. "This is not going to be easy but you have to be strong,"

"Does he know?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer. Dr. Moore was the only person I told I had sex with the Alpha and yes, he was so pissed I had gotten so reckless but after learning about the mate bond, everything got complicated.

"No," he said. "Alpha Darien does."

My hands curled into fists at my sides. "What?! How...how does he know,"

Dr. Moore hesitated. "The Alpha knows his own son and he had seen you two, he tried to stop what was going on but sadly couldn't and that's the main reason I was asked to check up on you to actual find out if the result was you getting pregnant."