Chapter 9

That man did not answer me at once. Another low, heartless laugh slipped from his throat, echoing inside the dark van like a curse.

A heavy cramp twisted in my stomach. Cold sweat slid down my spine beneath my dress. The pain was not only fear. It was the fragile life inside me reacting to my panic.

I knew I could not stall any longer.

“I have gold,” I said, my voice hoarse but steady as I forced the words out. “I have more than enough.”

I swallowed, fighting the shaking in my chest.

“Let me go. Please. Whatever Marielle promised you, I will give you ten times that.”

Silence filled the van. Even the engine seemed softer for a moment.

He had paused. I could sense it. Hope flickered weakly inside me.

Then he laughed again, colder than before.

“Marielle is my blood,” he said. “Do you think coins can weigh more than my own sister?”

The cramp in my stomach sharpened into a blade. I bent forward instinctively, both arms wrapping around my belly as if I could shield my unborn pup from danger through sheer will. Fear spread through my limbs, turning them numb.

This was no longer just terror for myself.

I was terrified for my pup.

My hands trembled so badly I could barely hold the communicator. A wild thought kept circling in my mind. What if the stress forced my pup to come too soon. What if I lost her here in this moving prison.

“I will give you one million,” I cried out, my voice cracking as tears spilled down my face. “I can transfer it now. Right now.”

He stopped shifting in his seat.

One million was far beyond what he expected from a Luna taken off a lonely road.

The van fell quiet again. I heard only my own uneven breathing and the distant hum of tires against stone.

He seemed to think it over carefully. When he spoke again, his tone was slower, pretending calm.

“Two million,” he said.

“Transfer two million, and you walk free.”

I no longer had the strength to bargain. My body was shaking too hard. The pain in my stomach was coming in waves now.

“Fine,” I whispered. “I will send it.”

My fingers would not obey me. I entered the security code wrong again and again, my vision blurred by tears. The glowing screen swam before my eyes. I forced myself to breathe, to focus, to think of nothing but finishing the transfer.

When the chime of a successful payment sounded, my body almost collapsed from relief.

Without another word, he cut the rope binding my wrists. The van door slid open, and cold night air rushed in. He shoved me out onto the roadside.

“Consider yourself fortunate,” he said.

The door slammed. The van vanished into the darkness, swallowed by the forest that marked the edge of pack territory.

I fell to my knees on the gravel. My legs would not hold me.

Then I felt warmth spreading beneath me.

At first I did not understand. Then I saw it.

Blood. Too much blood.

My breath hitched. My shaking fingers dialed for emergency aid from the nearest healing den. I gave them my location between gasps, my wolf side howling in silent panic.

The wail of sirens grew from distant to near.

Strong hands lifted me onto a stretcher. I caught glimpses of worried faces above me.

“Pregnant she wolf in premature labor.”

“Severe bleeding.”

Their urgent voices blurred together as another wave of pain tore through me.

By the time my pup entered the world, pale morning light had already touched the sky.

Under the harsh white glow of the healer hall, I was wheeled into the birthing room, then later pushed back out into the corridor.

The healer approached and gently laid my newborn beside me.

She was so small.

Wrapped in a white cloth, her skin was reddish and thin, her breathing faint and uneven. She looked fragile, like a tiny creature born before the full blessing of the Moon Goddess could settle into her bones.

Too small. So delicate that my heart ached just looking at her.

The moment I saw her, I knew she had come far too early.

My chest tightened painfully. I lifted my trembling hand and brushed my fingertips against her cheek.

She was warm.

That tiny warmth felt real enough to shatter me.

Tears slid down into my hair as I whispered, barely able to speak.

“I am sorry.”