Mia POV

The guards did not take me to a guest room or a secure ward.

They took me underground.

Every flight of stairs stripped away another layer of warmth. By the time we reached the detention level, my injured hand had swollen twice its normal size and the thin blouse I wore from breakfast did nothing against the damp cold.

"I need the clinic," I told the guard on my left. "At least call Dr. Ellis."

He kept walking.

"The Alpha said no healer without authorization."

"I am pregnant."

His jaw tightened, but he did not look at me.

"You heard me tell him."

"I heard the Alpha issue an order."

The second guard opened the last iron gate.

The cell beyond it was a concrete box with a drain in the center and a narrow bench bolted to the wall. Water crawled down the stones in thin black lines. There was no mattress, no blanket, and no window.

"Inside."

I did not move.

"If you put me in there and something happens to the baby, every person in the hall heard me warn him."

The first guard finally met my eyes.

Shame flickered there.

Then duty won.

He pushed me across the threshold.

The gate slammed shut.

I stood still until their footsteps disappeared.

Only then did I sit on the bench and cradle my hand against my chest.

My wolf paced inside me, frantic and confused. She kept reaching for Damien through the mate bond and finding nothing. A fated bond was supposed to be an open channel in moments of danger. Instead, I could feel the deliberate barrier he had raised to shut me out.

I pressed my good palm over my lower stomach.

"Stay with me," I whispered.

A faint kick answered beneath my palm. At twenty-six weeks, the movements had only recently become strong enough to interrupt my sleep. Now every one of them felt like a private distress signal. I counted each shift the way Dr. Ellis had taught me at the clinic, terrified that the cold or the impact in the hall would make them stop. Speaking to the life inside me gave the silence a shape I could survive.

Hours passed.

No food came.

Near midnight, a young guard left a metal cup of water just inside the bars. He avoided my eyes while he did it.

"Please," I said. "Ask the clinic to check my file. You do not have to disobey him. Just verify the pregnancy."

He hesitated.

"Lady Chloe nearly died."

"That has nothing to do with my medical record."

"The Alpha believes you poisoned her."

"Do you?"

He swallowed.

"It is not my place to believe anything."

"That answer is how innocent people die in rooms like this."

He left without replying.

An hour later I heard him arguing at the guard station. He had called the clinic after all. A second voice came through the radio, clipped and furious. Dr. Ellis demanded access to me and cited the pregnancy test by date and patient number. Silas cut him off before he finished.

"No medical personnel enter detention without the Alpha's approval."

"Then put him on the channel," Dr. Ellis snapped.

"The Alpha is unavailable."

"Unavailable is not a medical order."

The transmission ended. Boots approached my cell, then stopped. The young guard stood beyond the bars with both hands clenched at his sides.

"He confirmed it," I said.

The guard looked sick. "I know."

"And you are still leaving me here."

He had no answer for that either.

The cold became worse after midnight. I curled on the bench with my knees drawn up, trying to keep pressure off my abdomen. Each time I drifted toward sleep, pain in my hand woke me again.

By morning, my fingers had turned purple beneath the swelling.

I tried the bond.

Damien.

Nothing.

I pushed harder, sending the memory of the clinic, the positive blood test, the terror I had felt when his boot struck my stomach.

For one heartbeat, the wall trembled.

He was there.

I knew he felt me.

Then the barrier slammed back into place.

I laughed once, quietly, because the alternative was screaming.

At noon, voices carried from the guard station.

"Lady Chloe woke up."

"Alpha hasn't left her room."

"He ordered flowers from the capital."

I closed my eyes.

That evening, a tray arrived with stale bread and broth. No doctor. No message.

On the second day, I started spotting.

At first it was only a faint pink mark when I used the cell's tiny washbasin. I stared at it until my vision blurred.

I called for the guard.

"I am bleeding."

The man outside approached reluctantly.

"How much?"

"Enough that I need a doctor."

He radioed upstairs.

Static crackled. Then Silas answered.

"The Alpha's order has not changed."

"Tell him it concerns the pregnancy," I said loudly enough for the radio to carry my voice.

The guard repeated it.

A pause followed.

"He says the prisoner has already used that claim. No medical transfer."

Prisoner.

Not mate. Not Luna. Not Mia.

The guard lowered the radio.

"I'm sorry."

"Do not apologize if you are still leaving me here."

He backed away.

By the third day, I had stopped asking.

My hand throbbed. The spotting had slowed, but a deep ache remained across my lower back. Hunger sharpened every smell in the corridor. My wolf had gone from frantic to eerily quiet.

That scared me more than the pain.

I lay on the concrete because the bench made my back spasm. Somewhere above me, the pack carried on with meetings, meals, and patrol changes. Damien remained with Chloe. I knew because the guards discussed his vigil every time they changed shifts.

Three days beside her bed.

Three days while his pregnant mate slept on stone.

Late that afternoon, the outer detention door opened.

Rubber wheels squeaked across the floor.

A soft female voice said, "Leave us."

I lifted my head.

A wheelchair stopped outside my cell.

Chloe smiled at me from beneath a white hospital blanket.

Mia POV

"Leave us."

The orderly pushing Chloe's wheelchair retreated without argument.

I stayed on the floor beside the cell wall. Three days underground had taught me not to waste strength standing for anyone.

Chloe waited until the outer steel door locked.

Then she threw the cashmere blanket off her lap.

She planted both bare feet on the concrete and stood.

For a moment, I thought the cold had finally made me hallucinate.

Chloe rolled her shoulders, stretched one leg, then the other, and walked to the bars without the slightest limp.

"You look terrible, Mia."

I stared at her legs.

"A miracle."

Her smile widened.

"It is amazing what the body can do when no one is watching."

For four years, Damien had treated her damaged leg as proof of her sacrifice. He rearranged council meetings when it hurt. He installed ramps throughout the estate. He had once carried her up a staircase in front of me because she claimed the elevator vibration caused nerve pain.

She had just crossed the cell block in six perfect steps.

More than that, she had put her full weight on the left leg she claimed could barely support her. I remembered the carved cane beside her chair at every council dinner and the way Damien automatically slowed whenever she touched his arm. Once, he had canceled a border inspection because Chloe said the rain made old nerve damage flare. Watching her pivot easily on that same foot made years of small concessions rearrange themselves into one ugly pattern.

I fixed the detail in my mind. If I got out of this cell, I would not accuse her with emotion. I would give someone dates, witnesses, medical records, and the exact movement I had just seen. Damien might prefer guilt to logic, but the rest of the world did not have to.

"Does Damien know?"

"Of course not."

"Then you have been lying to him for years."

"I have been giving him something he understands." She touched the bars between us. "A debt. Men like Damien are easiest to control when they believe they owe you their honor."

I pushed myself upright.

"Did you poison yourself too?"

Chloe laughed softly.

That was answer enough.

"The dose was measured," she said. "I knew exactly how much I could survive. The rest was timing. You argued with me at breakfast. You left the room angry. Then I collapsed."

She said it casually, but I heard the precision beneath the bragging. Measured dose. Planned timing. A planted packet. None of it was spontaneous. Chloe had expected an investigation and built the answer before the question was asked.

"And the packet in my cabinet?"

"People will do remarkable things when they are afraid of losing their jobs."

"Who planted it?"

"Why would I tell you?"

I moved closer to the bars.

"Because you came down here to brag."

For the first time, annoyance crossed her face.

I smiled despite my cracked lips.

"That is the problem with people who think they are smarter than everyone else. Eventually, they need an audience."

Chloe's expression sharpened.

"Your audience is a concrete wall. No one is going to believe you."

"Damien will when he sees you walking."

She glanced down at her bare feet, unconcerned.

"He will never see it. By the time I leave this corridor, I will be weak again. My nurse will put me back under the blanket, and Damien will apologize for letting the cold aggravate my old injury."

I gripped the bars.

"He will learn the truth."

"Maybe. But not before you lose everything."

Her gaze dropped to my stomach.

I went still.

"You really are pregnant, aren't you?"

"Do not talk about my child."

"Damien told me you tried that excuse in the hall. I thought you were desperate."

She sounded almost impressed.

"He does not believe you," she continued. "He told Silas not to bother him with another pregnancy claim."

Pain tightened my chest.

"Did he say that?"

"He said you would fake anything to get out of this cell."

I reached through the bars before I could stop myself.

Chloe stepped back, laughing.

"Careful. Violence against the poor crippled woman will not help your case."

"One day you are going to make one mistake too many."

"I already made the only gamble that matters."

She walked back to the wheelchair and sat with perfect ease.

"I convinced your mate that protecting me is the same thing as being a good man. Do you understand how useful that is? I can ask for almost anything, and he will call it repayment."

She pulled the blanket over her legs.

"You cannot compete with guilt, Mia. A mate bond is instinct. Guilt is a decision he makes every day."

The words found the exact wound she wanted.

I refused to let her see it.

"If you were truly certain, you would not be down here checking whether I was broken."

Her fingers tightened on the blanket.

"I came to make sure you understand what happens next."

"Which is?"

"You confess. Damien rejects you. The pack strips your title. And when you are gone, I will be beside him exactly where I belong."

"You want a man who can kick his pregnant mate into a pillar without checking one medical record?"

Chloe's smile faded.

"Do not pretend you are above him. You still love him."

Once, that would have been true enough to hurt.

Now I could only remember his boot on my hand.

A cramp pulled low across my abdomen.

I caught the bars until it passed.

Chloe noticed.

Her eyes brightened.

"Oh. That looks unpleasant."

"Get out."

Another cramp came, stronger.

Warmth spread between my thighs.

I looked down and saw blood darkening the front of my prison pants.

Chloe did not call the guard.

She wheeled herself to the outer door and knocked twice.

As the orderly returned, she glanced over her shoulder at me.

"You should scream louder," she said. "Maybe this time someone upstairs will care."

The steel door closed behind her.

I pressed both hands to my stomach and shouted for help.