“Please,” I begged, choking on the words. “You know I loved her. I accepted her. I tried—”
“No!” His voice lashed out like a whip. “You couldn’t bear to see her happy with me. You wanted her gone because she carried the heir you couldn’t give.”
My tears blurred the torchlight, turning their faces into shadows. I couldn’t see who believed him. Maybe none of them did. Maybe it didn’t matter.
“She’s not even breathing,” I whispered. “How could you think I’d do this?”
Rydan stepped closer, his voice lower, more venomous. “You were always a burden. I tolerated you because I had to. You gave me a child, but even that—” he scoffed. “A daughter.”
“She’s still yours,” I whispered, heart breaking.
“I needed a son. And Amara will give me one.”
He turned and walked away then, not bothering to look back. The others followed, silent. No one questioned him. No one helped me.
They left me there, alone. Pregnant. Bound. Condemned.
And when my body betrayed me—when the pain arrived with all the fury of life forcing itself into the world—no one was there to catch her.
A faint, fragile cry broke through the oppressive quiet, slicing into the stillness like a blade. My body seized at once, every muscle locked in terror as a painful breath caught in my lungs.
My child.
“No! Please, no—my baby!” I sobbed uncontrollably, wrenching myself against the bindings that held me tight. Agony flared through my body, my arms on fire from the rope, my legs bent at cruel angles. But I felt none of it. Only the terror.
Down on the forest floor, the beta warrior finally moved. His gaze landed on the tiny, blood-slick figure crumpled on the ground. His face betrayed nothing as he stepped toward the newborn, slow and hesitant.
“Please, pick him up!” I begged, my voice scraped raw by panic. My entire being trembled with desperation. “Don’t just stand there—he’s a baby! Please!”
He hesitated. His fingers twitched, uncertain, then he knelt and cautiously gathered the infant into his arms. For a moment, silence blanketed us again as he examined the motionless form. Then, his brows lifted ever so slightly.
“He’s alive,” the man said flatly, almost like he couldn’t believe it. He turned the infant gently, his hands awkward and unsure. Then he added, his tone softer, “It’s… it’s a boy. A strong one, too.”
My breath faltered. A boy?
Rydan’s son. His heir.