He Chose His Mistress: The Pregnant Luna's Escape

Olivia POV:

I woke up to the sharp sting of antiseptic and the rhythmic beep of a monitor. I was in the private wing of the Pack Clinic.

My entire body throbbed. I looked down to find my left arm and side heavily bandaged.

"You're awake," a soft voice said.

It was Nurse Mara. She was an Omega, kind and quiet, with a gentle demeanor that put everyone at ease. She had been the one to confirm my pregnancy four months ago.

"My baby," I croaked, my throat dry as sandpaper. "Mara, my baby?"

Mara checked the door, then leaned in close. Her eyes were shimmering with unshed tears. "The pup is fine, Luna. A strong heartbeat. The amniotic fluid protected him from the heat. Your burns are severe, second-degree, but they will heal."

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. Tears of relief slipped from my eyes.

"But..." Mara hesitated, wringing her hands. "Alpha Michael... he came in while you were unconscious. He was screaming at the doctors to save Serena."

"Serena?" I whispered, disbelief coloring my tone. "She wasn't even touched."

"She claimed she was in shock and fainted," Mara said, her lip curling in rare distaste. "He demanded the best healers attend to her first. He said... he said she is the future of the pack."

The knife twisted deeper, severing the last thread of my hope.

I looked at Mara. I grabbed her wrist, ignoring the flare of pain in my arm. "Mara. I need you to do something for me. Something dangerous."

"Anything, Luna."

"I need you to falsify my records," I said, my voice trembling but firm. "I need you to write that the trauma caused a miscarriage. That I lost the baby."

Mara gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Luna... why?"

"Because if he knows the baby is alive, he will take him," I hissed, desperation clawing at my chest. "He plans to reject me and steal my child for her. I won't let him. I have to leave, Mara. And I can't leave if he thinks he still has an heir."

Mara looked at me, then at my bandaged stomach. She nodded slowly, a steely resolve settling in her eyes. "I understand. I will do it. For you. And for the little one."

She began to change my dressings without anesthesia—we couldn't risk drugs affecting the baby. I bit down on a leather strap, screaming silently as she peeled away the dead skin. The pain was clarifying. It burned away the last of my weakness, leaving only cold determination in its wake.

An hour later, the door opened. Michael walked in. He looked disheveled, his usual polished appearance gone.

"Liv," he said, rushing to the bedside. He reached for my hand, but I pulled it under the sheet before he could make contact. "Thank the Goddess. The doctor said you took a bad hit."

"I'm fine," I said. My voice was devoid of emotion, hollowed out by the agony of the last few hours. "Just burns."

"I'm so sorry," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "It happened so fast. I just reacted. I tried to save..."

"You saved who mattered to you," I cut him off.

He flinched, guilt flashing across his face. "Don't be like that. Serena is a guest. She was closer to the soup. It was instinct."

"Instinct," I repeated, testing the word on my tongue like poison. "Yes. It was."

He tried to take my hand again. This time, I let him. My nails, sharp and untrimmed, dug into his palm, drawing a bead of blood. He hissed but didn't pull away, mistaking my aggression for pain.

"I have to go check on Serena," he said after a minute of awkward silence. "She's still very shaken."

"Go," I said, turning my head away. "Don't keep her waiting."

He left.

That night, I feigned sleep as the hospital wing fell quiet. The Mind-Link opened again.

*Serena!* Michael’s mental voice was frantic. *Are you okay? I'm coming!*

*My chest hurts, Michael,* she whined, her mental voice dripping with affectation. *I think the shock affected my heart.*

*I'm here. I'm holding you.*

I heard the sound of him entering her room down the hall. I heard the rustle of sheets.

*Oh, Michael,* she sighed. *You saved me. You really saved me.*

*I would burn the world for you,* he swore. *I was so scared. When that soup fell... I didn't even see Olivia. I only saw you.*

*And the baby?* she asked.

*Whatever,* he dismissed, his tone careless. *We can make another one. A better one. With you. Just say the word, Serena. Say you'll be mine.*

*I will,* she whispered. *But... I need time. I'm so fragile.*

I lay in the dark, my hand over my flat stomach where my son slept safe and sound.

"Whatever," he had said.

I sat up. The pain in my side was excruciating, but I forced myself to stand. I walked to the window. The moon was full, casting a silver light over the forest.

"You won't get another chance, Michael," I whispered to the glass, my reflection looking back at me like a stranger. "You chose her. Now keep her."

I closed my eyes. I reached deep into my mind, finding the thick, golden cord that connected me to Michael—the mate bond. It was frayed, blackened by betrayal.

I imagined a pair of heavy iron shears.

Snip.

I didn't sever it completely—not yet. That required the ritual. But I walled it off. I built a fortress of ice around my end of the connection.

The link went silent. The static was gone.

I was alone in my head for the first time in years. And in that silence, I heard a new sound. A low, powerful growl.

My White Wolf was waking up. And she was starving for revenge.