As I stepped inside, he tipped his chin once. Another warrior stepped behind me, gripping my shoulders and forcing me down into a medical chair that had clearly been prepared ahead of time, as if it had been prepared exactly for me.
“Freya’s suffering from severe anemia,” Draven said calmly, motioning to the doctor. “She needs a transfusion. You’re a match.”
I lifted my head, my voice barely steady. “Draven, I just came out of heat sickness. My body—my wolf—isn’t even fully healed yet.”
“Six hundred milliliters,” he ordered flatly, eyes on the doctor. “Begin.”
The thick, silver-tipped needle pierced my vein with brutal precision. I clenched my jaw until I tasted blood. But that pain was nothing compared to the one in my chest.
Through the cracked door, I heard the low murmur of the pack physician.
“Alpha, she recently miscarried. Her hemoglobin is critically low. This could push her into shock—”
“Spare me,” Draven cut him off, unmoved. “Freya carries my heir. She cannot wait.”
Blood siphoned from my arm in thick streams, the bag gradually filling. My vision swam.
Draven stepped in front of me and, in a gesture so unlike him, gently wiped the cold sweat from my brow. His handkerchief was warm, he scented faintly of cedar and wolf musk.
“If it hurts, scream,” he murmured. “Just bear with it. This is for the future of the pack. Think of it like you are also saving our child.”
I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to see him.
Our child?
Would he still call it ours when the pup is born and he marks Freya instead?
A scream pierced the silence from the upper floor. It was Freya’s voice—sharp, trembling.
Draven’s face automatically darkened.
He turned back to the doctor and barked, “Another four hundred.”
The doctor paled. “That could kill her!”
“She’s already fading—”
“Freya is my Luna-to-be. She comes first,” Alpha Draven snapped, already moving toward the door.
I could barely speak, but I forced the words out. “Draw it.”
The physician froze.
“It’s settled,” I whispered. “Once this is done, let me go.”
Alpha Draven turned slowly. His eyes, golden and narrowed, burned into mine. Then he strode over and gripped my chin hard enough to bruise.
“You’d run away over this?” he sneered.
Freya’s whimper echoed again and, without another word, he shoved me away and disappeared.
Without his support, I slumped to the cold marbled floor like a discarded doll.