Chapter 4 4

Aurélie POV

For the next few days, every attempt I made to get Damien alone felt like chasing a ghost. Wherever he went, Geneviève lingered at his side, a serpent draped in silk. She had somehow slithered her way into every corner of his world even pack business meetings that had once been sacred ground between him and me. She sat there in quiet performance, pretending reverence, staring at him with that sickening mixture of awe and hunger. When Damien sought my opinion as Luna, she’d tilt her head, waiting for a moment to stain the air with her unwanted commentary.

My body was failing me. The early weight of pregnancy drained what strength I had left, and the storm of Geneviève’s presence pressed on my chest like a heavy hand. Sleep abandoned me completely. My mind was consumed by the fear of her of what she wanted, of what Damien might allow her to take.

Fabrice noticed. He saw the dark circles beneath my eyes and the tightness in my shoulders. He demanded I visit him daily, unwilling to let my unraveling go unchecked.

I found myself sitting in his office again, the sterile light casting shadows over the room as he wrapped the blood pressure cuff around my arm. His eyes, rimmed with exhaustion, peered at me over his gold-rimmed glasses.

“You’ve already lost weight, Aurélie,” he said, voice heavy with quiet disapproval. “Are you struggling with morning sickness?”

I shifted in my seat. “I’ve had some nausea… but mostly, I’m just not hungry.”

The truth I didn’t speak burned the back of my throat: I couldn’t eat because I was terrified. Terrified of Damien marking Geneviève. Terrified of being cast out with his unborn child like some disposable mistake. Nightmares haunted me visions of being stripped of everything I’d built.

Fabrice frowned deeper. “You need to make a conscious effort to eat more. The baby will take what it needs from you whether you can give it or not. You should be gaining weight, not wasting away.” He reached behind his desk and set a green glass bottle in front of me. “From now on, you drink this. Every day.”

“What is it?”

“A vitamin drink,” he replied firmly. “Everything you need in your first trimester. And you’ll drink it here. In front of me. Then you’ll sit for twenty minutes so I know you haven’t thrown it up.” His tone was more command than suggestion.

“Why would I vomit it up?” I asked weakly.

His lips curved without humor. “Because it tastes awful. Drink.”

I obeyed. The taste was revolting bitter and earthy, like swallowing rotted greens. My throat convulsed, but I forced it down.

He studied me with quiet concern. “Is it telling Damien that’s making you so tense? Why haven’t you told him yet?”

I exhaled slowly, my voice barely a whisper. “I just… haven’t had the chance. He’s never alone anymore.”

He tried to lighten my mood, reminding me of the lake back home, of a summer day when childhood innocence still wrapped around us like sunlight. I found myself laughing just once, softly. For a fleeting moment, I remembered who I used to be.

But laughter never lasts long in a haunted house.

When we stepped out of his office, the sound still lingered in the air—only to be crushed beneath the sight of Damien and Geneviève walking toward us. His arm was wrapped possessively around her waist, holding her as though she were fragile glass. My wolf snarled in the back of my mind, her fury simmering beneath my skin.

“Who is this?” Geneviève purred, suddenly strong enough to play the inquisitor.

“This is Doctor Fabrice,” Damien answered, his tone clipped.

“Fabrice, this is Geneviève,” he added, panic threading his voice. “She almost fainted in my office. She needs medical attention.”

Fabrice straightened, but his reply was calm. “I’m sorry to hear that, Alpha, but I’m Aurélie’s private doctor not the pack’s.”

The smirk on Geneviève’s lips was sharp enough to cut.

Damien’s aura darkened the hallway, thick and heavy, pressing down like a vice. “The pack doctor is unavailable. You may not serve the pack, but you live in my pack. You’ll attend to her.”

I saw the way Fabrice stiffened, the pain coiling through him as Damien’s dominance sank into his bones. My husband’s power was suffocating, and horribly he seemed to enjoy it.

I stepped between them before it could break my friend. “Fabrice,” I murmured softly, “would you kindly just check Geneviève? She is a guest, after all.”

He leaned close. “She seems fine,” he whispered.

“I know,” I breathed back. “Even so.”

He relented, gesturing toward his office. She slithered in, pausing at the door like a viper waiting for a strike. I turned to Damien, a flicker of hope sparking inside me only for her voice to rip it away.

“Oh, Damien… won’t you stay? I’m worried it could be something serious.”

Her false tears dripped like acid.

I opened my mouth to speak, but he didn’t even look at me. “Of course, Geneviève.”

The door slammed in my face.

I returned to my room hollow, my chest tight with a rage that had nowhere to go. She fluttered her lashes once, and already, he was bending to her like a man bewitched. I had never asked him for anything not once but for her, he gave freely.

My wolf pressed against my mind, urging me to rest, to trust. He chose us. He will claim us. He must. She saw the world in black and white. I knew better. But I couldn’t crush the tiny flame of hope that lived in her.

Eventually, exhaustion claimed me. The room blurred. Darkness pulled me under.

I woke to the sound of knocking. The sun was low, its dying light spilling across the floor. I’d slept the day away.

“Come in,” I called.

The last person I expected stepped through the door. Geneviève.

The moment she entered, the warmth drained from the room. She scanned my bedroom with open disdain, sneering at the small photograph of my parents as though it offended her.

“Feeling better?” I asked, my voice flat.

She laughed softly. “I’m fine. Damien just worries too much.” A deliberate jab.

“He’s not here,” I said coldly.

“No. Is he ever?” she retorted, settling on the edge of my bed like a queen inspecting her throne. “I came to talk.”

“Geneviève, whatever it is I’m not interested,” I said, standing abruptly. I moved toward the door, but her growl cut through the air like a blade.

“I know you’re pregnant.”

My heart slammed against my ribs, the sudden tightness in my chest stealing my breath. I turned, frozen.

“I saw the vitamin drink Fabrice gave you. That’s only for pregnant she-wolves,” she said, lips curling into a predator’s smile.

“I don’t want to talk about this with you,” I hissed.

She tilted her head. “Damien doesn’t know yet, does he?”

“Not yet. I’m going to tell him now.”

Her laugh was low, twisted. “You can’t expect a child to keep your crown. Not now that I’m back.”

I stared at her, baffled by the cruelty dripping from her every word. “Damien is my husband. He would never deny his own child its place in this pack.”

But she only smiled wider.

I stepped out, determined to find him, to tell him the truth before she could poison it. But on the stairs, her hand snaked out and gripped my elbow.

“I’m not sure Damien will ever meet the child,” she whispered and then she moved.

She stepped ahead of me, spun, and let out a fake scream just as she yanked my shirt.

The world blurred. I felt gravity seize me, dragging me down each merciless step. The blows came fast head, back, ribs, stomach. I hit the bottom in a tangled heap, pain radiating through every nerve.

I heard his footsteps.

Damien’s voice filled the hall. “Aurélie!”

But she got to him first. “Damien… help me!”

And he did. He went to her.

The pain in my stomach was fire, but the pain in my chest was something worse something hollow. I reached for him, whispering through the agony, “Damien… the baby…”

He didn’t hear me.

Darkness did.