The second call went straight to voicemail.

"Answer the phone," I whispered.

I grabbed a white hand towel from the rack and pressed it between my thighs. Blood spread through the cotton almost at once. My fingers left red streaks across the screen as I opened Ryan's messages.

I am pregnant, I typed. I am bleeding. Come home now.

The message showed as delivered, but not read.

I called Leo next. He answered every time he wanted permission to stay up late or needed me to find a missing schoolbook. Surely he would answer now.

The line rang twice.

Call Rejected.

A voice message appeared a second later. I pressed play.

"The birthday song is starting," Leo said over loud music. "Stop making Dad uncomfortable, Mom."

Sophie's laugh floated behind him. "Come on, Leo. Help me make a wish."

I let my head rest against the cabinet. A fresh cramp twisted through me, deep and tearing. My arm jerked against the counter, knocking the glass toothbrush cup to the floor. It shattered across the tile.

I stared at the pieces, fighting the urge to close my eyes.

Three months ago, Ryan had carried a stack of boxes into my sewing room.

"Sophie needs quiet while she recovers," he had said. "You can work in the sitting room."

I had moved my fabric, canceled my weekend classes, and told myself generosity would restore peace. Instead, every concession taught my family that I would always be the one who moved.

Another warm rush soaked the towel.

I called Ryan again. Then again.

Rejected.

I sent him the photo of the pregnancy test beside the bathroom sink. Under it, I typed one sentence.

This is not an argument. It is an emergency.

My phone buzzed. Hope rose so fast it hurt.

It was the family group chat.

A new picture showed Leo placing a silver birthday crown on Sophie's head. Ryan stood behind them, smiling toward the camera. A second photo followed, this one of all three leaning over the cake.

I left the group.

Beside the bathroom door, a silver emergency panel glowed in the wall. Every Alpha residence had one. I dragged myself close enough to strike the medical symbol with my palm.

REQUEST SENT TO PRIMARY HOUSEHOLD AUTHORITY, the screen displayed.

Ryan's name appeared beneath it. The old pack system required the household Alpha to approve entry through the security barrier before emergency responders could cross the private grounds. It was supposed to prevent hostile healers from entering during an attack. No one had considered what happened when the Alpha himself refused to listen.

The panel chimed. REQUEST DECLINED.

I photographed the screen and attached it to the live record. The rejection did not stop outside emergency services, but it would force them to break the barrier instead of opening it cleanly. Every minute mattered, and Ryan had just chosen to waste another one.

Then I reached for the mate bond.

The connection between Ryan and me had always felt like a low current beneath my skin. I gathered the pain ripping through my body and pushed it toward him with everything I had.

The force struck a wall.

Cold. Deliberate. Complete.

Ryan had dampened the bond.

He had not simply missed my fear in the noise of the party. He had shut me out so my emotions would not reach him.

The knowledge steadied something inside me. I stopped begging him to interpret my pain correctly. I opened my Notes app and began dictating.

"8:14 p.m. First call to Ryan rejected. 8:16 p.m. First call to Leo rejected. 8:18 p.m. Pregnancy disclosure sent to Ryan. Delivered."

I listed every attempt, every message, and every response. Then I shared the live document with Tessa and turned on location access.

If I lost consciousness, there would be a record he could not rewrite.

I called her.

"Ivy?" Tessa answered over the cry of a child. "What is wrong?"

"Bleeding," I managed. "Pregnant. Alpha house bathroom."

Her voice changed instantly. "How much blood?"

I looked at the towel, the floor, and the streaks down my legs. "Too much."

"I am at the south clinic with the Miller pup. His fever is convulsive, but the second healer is almost here. I am alerting emergency transport now. Keep the door unlocked and stay on the line."

A violent contraction folded me forward.

The phone slipped from my hand and landed among the glass shards.

"Ivy? Ivy, answer me."

I crawled toward it, but another wave of dizziness darkened the room. The bathroom door was still locked. I dragged myself across the floor and turned the bolt, then shoved the bloody towel into the hallway where anyone entering the house would see it.

Tessa's voice crackled from the floor. "I have your location. I am coming as soon as the relief healer takes over. Do not try to stand."

The call disconnected.

I reached the bathtub and twisted the cold-water handle. Spray struck my face, shocking me awake. I pulled my phone from the broken glass and opened the emergency text service.

Alpha house, Silver Ridge territory. Gate code 4492. Pregnant patient hemorrhaging. Send ambulance.

My thumb hovered over Send.

I called Ryan again.

Rejected.

I called Leo.

A text came back.

Mom, stop. Dad said we will talk tomorrow.

For the next several minutes, I alternated between their numbers. Every ring ended with the same red icon or the same silent drop to voicemail.

I looked at the time stamps. Thirteen attempts. Thirteen chances for someone I loved to pause a party and listen.

I sent the emergency text.

Then I pressed Ryan's name one last time.

The line clicked open.

"Happy birthday to you!" A chorus blasted through the speaker. Applause followed. Leo laughed near the phone.

"Ryan," I croaked.

I pressed the side buttons and started a screen recording.

"It is Mom again," Leo complained near the phone. "She always has to ruin the fun."

"End it," Ryan said, his voice clear above the music. "Tell her we will talk tomorrow."

"Ryan, please." I lowered the phone close to the tile. Blood struck the floor in slow, audible drops. "I am bleeding."

The call stayed open.

Fabric rustled. Footsteps moved away from the crowd. For one hopeful second, I thought Ryan had finally taken the phone.

Then Sophie's voice came through, soft and unmistakable.

"Ryan is cutting the cake," she murmured. "Tell me what you want, Ivy."