chapter 6

"Wake up! Wake up!”, Georgia!" Anna’s voice was frantic, shaking her hard. "You’re burning up!"

Georgia gasped, her body jerking awake, and her eyes flying open. Sweat drenched her skin, her body trembling violently. Pain clawed through her, deep and relentless. The memories… the nightmares… they never left her alone.

She barely registered where she was until Anna cupped her face, forcing her to focus.

"Stay with me, G. Breathe," Anna commanded, her tone firm yet desperate.

Georgia’s chest heaved as she sucked in ragged breaths. The scent of damp earth and old wood filled her nose, the tiny cabin Anna had found for them, hidden away from the pack. Safe. For now.

But she wasn’t safe. Not from herself.

Her hand instinctively went to her belly, feeling the tiny swell beneath her palm. The reminder sent a wave of nausea rolling through her.

"I can’t do this," she whispered, her voice barely there.

Anna’s eyes darkened. "Yes, you can."

"No, Anna! I can’t!" Georgia pushed away from her, stumbling to her feet. Her legs wobbled, but she didn’t care. "You don’t get it! This thing inside me” She choked on the words. “It’s his."

Anna stood up slowly, blocking her path. "No. This baby is yours."

Georgia’s hands clenched at her sides. “I should have died that night.”

Anna’s eyes darkened. “No, Georgia. He should have died. And one day, I swear he will.”

A shudder wracked Georgia’s body. She had dreamed of it. Of sinking her claws into him, of hearing him scream the way she had screamed. But what good would it do? Would it erase the horror? The pain? The life growing inside her that she didn’t ask for?

Georgia’s breath hitched.

Anna’s voice softened. "I know you’re hurting. I know the memories won’t let you breathe. But don’t punish yourself for what that monster did."

Georgia’s fists clenched at her sides, her wolf restless, clawing inside her.

"You think it’s that easy?" she hissed. "Do you know what it feels like to close your eyes and still see him? To wake up every night gasping for air because you swear you can still feel his hands on you?" Her voice cracked. "I can’t even look at myself, Anna. How the hell am I supposed to look at this?" She gestured at her stomach, her hands shaking.

Anna’s gaze held steady. "By remembering that you are stronger than him. That you are still here."

Georgia let out a bitter laugh. "Barely."

Anna took a slow step forward. "You survived, Georgia. And you’re not just surviving for yourself anymore."

Georgia flinched.

"I don’t want it," she whispered. The words tasted like poison on her tongue.

Anna’s lips pressed into a thin line. "You think that now. But you will regret it."

Georgia spun away from her, breathing heavily. The walls felt like they were closing in, the weight of everything suffocating her.

Anna’s voice was barely above a whisper. "You loved that pup from the moment you knew it existed."

Georgia squeezed her eyes shut. "I don’t know how to love it."

Anna stepped forward, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Then let me teach you."

Silence stretched between them.

Georgia’s wolf howled inside her, restless and confused.

She should reject this child. Erase the last piece of that night from her body.

And yet… something deep inside her wouldn’t let go.

Her fingers drifted back to her stomach, trembling.

Anna was right.

No matter how much she hated him, this baby had done nothing wrong.

This baby was hers.

And if there was one thing she swore… it was that her child would never feel the way she had.

Never unwanted. Never unloved.

Georgia sucked in a shaky breath, looking up at Anna. "Help me."

Anna’s eyes glistened. "Always."

Anna grabbed Georgia’s hand, pressing it over her belly. The warmth beneath her palm sent a jolt through her.

“This is yours,” Anna whispered fiercely. “Not his. Not the pack’s. Yours.”

Georgia squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head. “What if I can’t love it?”

Anna’s grip tightened. “Then I’ll love it enough for both of us until you can.”

A sob broke free from Georgia’s throat. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“One day at a time,” Anna murmured. “Just take it one day at a time.”

✿ ✿ ✿

The scent of damp earth and pine filled Georgia’s nose as she stepped outside, her hands instinctively cradling her belly.

She had made it another day.

She didn’t know how.

The tiny cabin on the outskirts of the human town was nothing special, but it was safe. Hidden. A place where no one whispered about her, no one sneered in disgust.

Anna had worked tirelessly to help her escape. To help her build **something.**

It wasn’t easy. Some nights, Georgia lay awake, listening to the wind howl like a wolf in mourning. Some nights, the pain still gripped her so hard she could barely breathe.

But she had survived.

And now, for the first time, she was trying to live.

Anna emerged from the cabin, carrying two baskets of laundry. “You look like you’re overthinking again.”

Georgia huffed, shifting uncomfortably. “I don’t overthink.”

Anna arched a brow. “You brood. It’s the same thing.”

Georgia shot her a glare, but Anna only smirked. The familiarity of it was comforting in a way Georgia hadn’t expected.

“You’re getting stronger,” Anna said, her gaze flicking to Georgia’s belly.

Georgia sighed, placing a protective hand over it. “Or just more tired.”

Anna snorted. “Same thing.”

They had found work, cleaning houses, washing clothes, whatever paid enough to keep them afloat.

It wasn’t glamorous.

But it was theirs.

Still, Georgia’s fears never left her.

Late at night, when the world was silent, the doubts crept in.

What if the child looked like him?

What if she couldn’t love them?

What if she failed them the way her parents failed her?

She hated herself for it.

She should be grateful to have survived.

But sometimes, she didn’t feel like she had.

One particularly cold night, the memories came again. The dark room. The rough hands. The muffled screams.

She woke up gasping, her body drenched in sweat.

Her wolf stirred inside her, restless and agitated. She could feel its sorrow, its anger.

Georgia pressed a shaking hand against her belly, feeling the flutter of life inside her.

Her heart clenched painfully.

Would the baby ever be safe?

Would she ever be safe?

Tears burned her eyes. “I don’t know how to do this,” she whispered into the dark.

A small kick met her palm.

Georgia choked back a sob.

She had spent so long thinking of this child as his.

But he had no claim here.

This child would not be raised in fear.

They would never feel unloved.

She swore it.

Her fingers tightened over her belly as her wolf let out a low, protective growl.

“You are mine,” she whispered fiercely. “And I will protect you. Always.”