Chapter 8: The Life She Did Not Expect

Days passed. Then more days. And every single one felt the same. Julia woke before sunrise. Worked until her hands trembled. Spoke only when spoken to. Bowed when required. Kept her eyes lowered. Kept her voice steady. She hid her pain beneath silence. She hid the thin scars beneath long sleeves. She hid the truth from everyone. For the past week, the routine had settled into something cruelly predictable. Jason would spend the evening publicly beside Willow. He would bond with her. Strengthen the alliance. Strengthen the image of unity. And then, sometime deep in the night, he would come to Julia’s cabin. He would clean the wounds she carved into herself when the betrayal pain became too much. Wounds her wolf struggled to heal. Because even her wolf endured the torment. Even her wolf was tired. “Why are your wounds not healing properly, Julia?” Jason asked one night, his voice tight with frustration as he pressed a cloth against her chest. “You have to stop hurting yourself. You cannot do this every day.” Julia stared at the ceiling. Can he hear himself? He was scolding her for hurting herself. But he was the reason she was doing it. He had never felt betrayal pain. He would never understand what it felt like to be torn apart from the inside—like something sacred was being ripped out night after night. He would never understand what it felt like to pray for it to stop. To wish for the pain to end. Even if that meant her life ending with it. As an alpha, his wolf would never allow him to feel that kind of suffering. Julia turned her head slowly and looked at him. Her eyes were dull now. The bright warmth that once lived in them had faded. In its place—only exhaustion. Only endless pain. Jason’s hand stilled. “I miss you. I miss the way you used to look at me. I miss the way you said my name. I miss how you talked to me.” His voice softened, almost pleading. “When will the old you come back, Julia? Why can’t you move on from this? I have been patient. But I am losing my patience. Move past this melancholy. Come back to me. I need you.” Julia did not react. She could not. “Willow has noticed you are unwell,” he continued. “She is being gracious about it. She is a good luna to the pack. If you would just accept our situation—” “Alpha…” Julia began softly. His jaw tightened. “Stop calling me that. When we are together, you call me mate. Like before.” His hand cupped her face. “When you are with me, you look at me with passion. With love. Not like this. Not like you are mourning.” His voice grew more desperate. “I am still here, Julia. I am still yours. We can still be happy with what we have. Just try.” Julia said nothing. Because she would never call him mate again. She would never look at him and see love. When she looked at him now, she saw only pain. Only betrayal. And when she touched him, it was not love guiding her. It was the bond. And she hated it. ⸻ “Julia? Are you alright?” The voice pulled her back to the present. Mira stood in front of her, worry written across her face. Julia blinked. They were in the kitchen again. She did not even remember how she got there. “You look pale,” Mira said firmly. “You need to see the healer.” “I am fine,” Julia replied automatically. “No, you’re not,” Mira insisted. “You are barely standing. Come on. I’ll take you.” “But there is still work—” “It can wait,” Mira interrupted. And before Julia could protest further, Mira gently but firmly led her outside. The fresh air hit her lungs sharply as they walked toward the pack hospital—a stone building near the training grounds. Julia’s steps felt heavy. Her vision blurred slightly at the edges. Inside, the healer greeted them with calm professionalism. “Sit,” the healer instructed. Julia obeyed. The healer examined her pulse. Her eyes. Pressed lightly against her abdomen. “Have you been sleeping?” “Yes.” “Eating?” “Yes.” “Experiencing dizziness?” “No.” The answers were automatic and empty. The healer’s hands paused at her lower stomach. Her brows furrowed. She pressed again—more carefully this time. Silence stretched. “Julia,” the healer said slowly. “You are with pup.” The words did not register at first. “What?” “You are carrying a pup,” the healer repeated gently. “From my estimation, you have just passed twelve weeks.” The room felt like it tilted. Twelve weeks. That meant before the announcement. Before Willow. Before everything shattered. Julia’s hand instinctively moved to her abdomen. A pup. Her pup. “Where is your mate?” The healer looked around. “He needs to be here. A pregnancy drains energy from the mother. Without the mate’s support, it can weaken you significantly.” Julia’s mouth felt dry. “I don’t have a mate,” she said quietly. The healer stared at her. “What do you mean you do not have a mate? You are carrying a pup, and not newly conceived. This is well established. You need your mate’s presence. His scent. His strength.” Julia shook her head slowly. “I do not have a mate.” Because the male who called himself her mate belonged to someone else now. The healer’s expression grew serious. “Julia, this is not something you can manage alone. Your body is already strained. The scars on your chest are not healing properly. Your wolf is weakened.” Her voice softened. “If you continue like this, you risk losing the pup.” The words hit harder than any betrayal pain. Julia’s breath caught. Lose the pup? Her hand pressed more firmly against her abdomen. There was life inside her. A tiny heartbeat. Unaware of pack politics. Unaware of alliances. Unaware of betrayal. A part of her. And a part of him. Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, but she forced them back. No, she would not cry here. Not again. The healer continued, “You need rest. Proper nutrition. Reduced stress. And ideally, your mate’s support.” Julia looked down at her lap. Her mind raced. If Jason found out, he would claim the pup. For the pack. For the bloodline. He would never allow her to leave and allow the child to grow outside Silver Fang. And Willow... Willow would see the pup as a threat. To her position. To her alliance. To her power. To her own pup. Julia lifted her head slowly. “Please, do not tell anyone.” The healer frowned. “This is not something that can remain hidden long.” “Please,” Julia repeated. “Just… give me time.” Time to decide. Time to protect the only thing that suddenly felt like hope. The healer studied her carefully, then sighed. “I will keep your confidence—for now. But you must return in two days. And you must take care of yourself.” Julia nodded. Mira squeezed her hand gently as they walked back. “You’ll be okay,” Mira whispered. Julia did not answer. Because for the first time in weeks, she did not feel like she was dying. She felt something else. Fear. And beneath it— A fragile, dangerous spark. Purpose.