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.