AmberThe ride to wherever they were taking me felt endless.The car was silent except for the sound of the tires crunching against gravel. I kept my head down, tears blurring my vision as I fought against the bonds holding me. My wrists ached from where they’d tied them, and the gag in my mouth felt suffocating.Why is this happening to me?Irma growled in the back of my mind, pacing like a caged animal. You have to fight. You have to stay strong.But how could I? My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might burst. The scent of the Alphas surrounded me, their presence oppressive and overwhelming. I turned my face to the window, praying that someone—anyone—would see me. But the road was deserted, nothing but trees and shadows stretching out into the distance.The car came to a jerking stop in front of an uncompleted building, its skeletal structure looming like a shadow in the night. My stomach churned with dread, and my pulse hammered in my ears as the doors clicked open. “Get
Trigger Warning: This chapter contains graphic description of rape.AmberI tried to crawl away, but there was nowhere to go. The room was empty, the walls bare, and the three men surrounded me like predators closing in on their prey.“No,” I begged, my voice hoarse. “Please don’t do this. I’m begging you.”“Stop fighting,” the leader said coldly, reaching for me. “If you want to make it out of here alive, Omega, you’ll be a good little girl for us and do as you’re told.” The leader grabbed both my hands even as I thrashed and fought uselessly against him while the two other men tore off my clothes, leaving me naked. The cold air seeped into my bones, goosebumps rippling my skin as they stared at my body lustfully.“Please… Please don't do this… I'm sorry, please stop…” I begged over and over but it all fell on deaf ears.“Hold her down.” The leader ordered and the other men complied, subduing me as the leader quickly undid his belt, with his pants coming down.True, unadulterated f
RayneThree days. Three long, agonizing days since Reed walked out of my life.I ran my fingers through my hair for the hundredth time, pacing back and forth in my room like a caged wolf. My phone sat on the bed, mocking me with its silence. I’d tried everything—calls, messages, even going to Reed’s house—but nothing worked.His mom had answered the door with a kind but confused smile, telling me Reed was “crashing at a friend’s place” and that she wasn’t sure when he’d be back. She didn’t even know where he was.I’d gone to his school the next day, hoping to catch him there, but his seat had been empty. Apparently, Reed wasn’t going to class either.“Damn it, Reed,” I muttered under my breath, picking up my phone again. I scrolled through our message thread—if it could even be called that. Dozens of my texts, all unanswered.Reed, please talk to me. Let me explain. I love you. I never meant for any of this to happen.Reed, I’m begging you. Just meet me. Five minutes, that’s all I nee
AmberThe world came back in fragments.Blinding white lights above me. The steady beeping of a monitor. The faint scent of antiseptic that burned my nose. My limbs felt heavy, like they weren’t mine, and there was a strange, dull ache in the lower half of my body.I blinked, trying to piece together where I was. The ceiling tiles blurred in and out of focus, the fluorescent light stinging my eyes. My throat was dry, raw, like I’d been screaming for hours.A soft shuffle of footsteps broke the silence. A figure stepped into view, but I couldn’t make them out clearly. My heart lurched, panic surging through me as I instinctively tried to sit up.“Easy!” a woman’s voice said quickly, firm but kind. “Don’t move too fast. You’re safe here.”Safe. The word felt foreign, hollow.I froze, my breathing shallow as my eyes adjusted to the figure before me. It was a nurse—a woman in her mid-thirties with tired eyes and a clipboard in her hands. She had no scent, a Beta. She looked harmless, but
Ichika KirishimaThe file was thick, heavier than most cases I’d received in my twenty years of practice. I adjusted my glasses and opened it carefully, my eyes scanning the neat handwriting of the nurse who’d summarized the patient’s details.Patient Case FileName: Amber QueenAge: 18Sex: FemaleSecondary Gender: OmegaRelationship Status: No known family or spouse to speak of, though patient exhibits clear signs of being mated.Case Summary: Amber Queen presents as a highly delicate and complex case. She is the victim of a recent sexual assault, currently three weeks pregnant, and shows severe psychological and physical distress. Her mental state is deeply fragile, marked by extreme emotional instability.Symptoms and Observations:Panic Attacks: Frequent and unpredictable, triggered by perceived threats, loud noises, or unfamiliar people.Insomnia: Patient struggles to sleep, often showing signs of exhaustion and restlessness.Severe PTSD: Exhibits hypervigilance, distrust, and r
Dr. IchikaI stood outside Amber Queen’s room, the case file clutched in my hands. I had been a therapist for over two decades, but something about this particular case weighed heavier than others. Amber’s file painted a picture of someone who had endured more pain than anyone should, let alone an eighteen-year-old girl who would soon become a mother.Taking a deep breath, I tried to push aside my apprehension. I was here to help her, no matter how broken she was. My job was to guide her back to herself, one step at a time.I knocked softly on the door, announcing myself. “Amber? I’m Dr. Ichika Kirishima. May I come in?”The door creaked open, and Nurse Lillian peeked out. She gave me a small smile and gestured for me to enter. “She’s awake but she's… nervous,” she whispered. “You’ll do fine, just be gentle.” She stepped aside, letting me enter.Stepping inside, I was struck by how small Amber looked in the sterile hospital room. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her knees drawn
Dr. IchikaThe past few days with Amber had been nothing short of a delicate balancing act. Each session felt like walking on a tightrope—every word, every movement, carefully calculated to avoid unsettling her fragile psyche. Yet, with time and persistence, I could see the trust forming between us.At first, Amber insisted Nurse Lillian remain by her side during our sessions, her presence a lifeline of comfort and security. But gradually, as our rapport deepened, Amber began to loosen her grip on that dependence. One day, she hesitated, glanced at Lillian, and softly said, “You can go… if you want.”Lillian had looked at me for confirmation, and when I nodded, she left the room. That was the day I felt we had truly crossed the first major hurdle. Amber was finally willing to talk to me without needing a shield.Still, challenges remained. One of the most immediate concerns was Amber’s refusal to eat. She barely touched the hospital food, and her already frail frame had become alarmin
Dr. IchikaThe hospital was silent, the kind of silence that weighed heavily after a long, exhausting day. I sat at my desk, staring at the phone. In front of me was the crumpled piece of paper where Amber had hesitantly scribbled her father’s contact information earlier in the session. It had taken days of gentle nudging to get her to share it, and even then, I could see the conflict in her eyes.She didn’t trust him. That much was obvious.I took a deep breath, dialing the number before I could overthink it. The line rang once, twice, and then a third time before a gruff voice answered.“Hello?”“Mr. Queen?” I asked, keeping my tone professional. “This is Dr. Ichika Kirishima. I’m calling from Hunter Valley Medical.”“What’s this about?” he asked, his voice sharp and impatient.“It’s about your daughter, Amber,” I began carefully. “She’s currently under my care as a patient. I’m her therapist.”There was a pause. “Amber?” he repeated, his tone flat.“Yes,” I confirmed. “She was admi
RayneHer words stung.Not just because they were loud or furious, but because they were true.I stood frozen, every syllable she threw at me carving straight through the fog of my anger, slicing deeper than anything had in years.She’d gone through all of it alone.The pregnancy. The birth. The newborn stage.And where had I been?Not even aware it was happening.And that fact—the brutal, ugly reality—made something inside me buckle.Because everyone knew how dangerous and agonizing pregnancy could be for lone Omegas. Their bodies weren’t designed to handle the full term without an Alpha’s support. Without that steady stream of pheromones to ease the symptoms, reduce the pain, and protect both mother and child.Amber had survived it without me.Without the safety net I should have provided. Without the warmth of our bond. Without the chemical anchor that would’ve soothed her nerves and her body. I hadn't been there to calm her when the hormones hit like waves, when her skin hurt from
RayneI had the whole thing memorized.Every single word I planned to say to her.I even practiced my tone— respectful, measured. Not too soft, not too proud. I wasn’t here to dredge up the past. I wasn’t here to ask questions or start a conversation that would lead nowhere. I was here to do one thing.Say thank you.I owed her that.So here I was in front of her office door with a bouquet of lilies and soft pink tulips, buzzing with the kind of nervous energy I hadn’t felt since I was a kid. I didn’t even know if she’d accept the flowers. I just remembered she hated money being thrown at her—Goddess, that memory still made my gut twist—and I thought maybe something small and human would carry more weight.The words were ready.Thank you for saving my life. I’ll never forget it. You didn’t owe me anything, and you still chose to help.That was it. Nothing else. I even practiced how to hold the bouquet—softly, humbly, like it was a peace offering, not a bribe.But none of that mattered
AmberFor the most part, I’d done a pretty good job pretending Rayne Hunter didn’t exist.Which was ironic, considering he was recovering in the same hospital where I worked five days a week, twelve hours a day. But I guess that was the trick—if I kept moving, kept busy, kept my head buried in charts and scalpel reports and pre-op consults, I didn’t have time to remember that he was here too.And on the rare occasions when the thought of him did try to creep in—like during a lull between surgeries, or when I passed the room he used to occupy—I shoved it away. Mentally. Emotionally. I threw up a wall and walked the other direction.It wasn’t denial. Not really.It was survival.Eight weeks.That’s how long it had been since I stood over his body on the operating table and chose to save him. Since I stitched him back together, closed his wound, and handed him back to the man he loved.Eight weeks of silence. Of distance.And in those eight weeks, I hadn’t seen his face once.Partly beca
RayneReed busied himself tucking my discharge folder into his messenger bag, still humming to himself with uncontainable excitement. He was already planning which takeout we’d order tonight, how he’d light candles in the bedroom and sprinkle rose petals on the floor and bed, make it “romantic but relaxing,” his words.But even as I smiled and nodded, there was something clawing at me from the inside.I couldn’t leave without saying thank you.To her.Amber.It didn’t make sense. She’d made it perfectly clear she wanted nothing to do with me—and I respected that. But I couldn’t walk out of this hospital and pretend like she hadn’t saved my life. Like she hadn’t stitched me back together with those tiny, fierce hands of hers.I owed her something. A thank you. That’s all.Just closure.A gesture.Nothing more.“Hey,” I said, interrupting Reed mid-sentence. “Can you do me a favor and go pull the car around? I don’t want to be limping through the parking lot for an hour.”Reed looked up.
RayneOne, two, three, four… Eight weeks.It took just over eight painful, frustrating, mind-numbing weeks to feel human again.Which was ridiculous considering how fast wolves were supposed to heal.But even with accelerated recovery, nothing about this process had been easy. The surgery had left me weak and sore for weeks. My abdomen still pulled uncomfortably when I bent the wrong way. The cast on my leg had only come off a few days ago, but the real hell was physical therapy.The fracture itself had healed—technically. But regaining full function, learning to walk without stiffness, without pain, without limping? That was the real battle.I’d had to use crutches for the first three weeks post-op, even as my wolf protested the entire time. Eden hated the helplessness. Hated the weakness. Hated the slow, humiliating pace of everything.But I did it.Because I had to.Because Reed showed up to every session. Pushed me through the frustration. Carried the parts of me that couldn’t car
AmberIt’s official.The Moon Goddess is a sadistic bitch. There’s absolutely no changing my mind about that.I don’t care how sacred she’s supposed to be. Or how many songs were written about her “divine will.” Screw all of it.It’s the only explanation for why I keep getting dealt such a shitty hand. Again. And again. And again.I had just finished my rounds, clipboard tucked under one arm, my head pounding faintly from hours on my feet. All I wanted was to return to my office, throw back the last of the cold coffee waiting on my desk, and finally breathe.But no.Apparently, peace wasn’t part of the divine plan for me.Because just as I turned the corner past the nurses’ station, I froze.Dead in my tracks.There they were.Rayne and Reed.Reed was pushing Rayne’s wheelchair down the hallway slowly, talking animatedly about something I couldn’t hear. His hands were light on the handles, careful and gentle. Rayne sat back, bandaged and pale, but with that same stupid soft look he alw
Rayne I looked at him.He smiled.He meant it. That was the worst part.It wasn’t a figure of speech.It wasn’t even romantic.It was... unsettling.But I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to turn the moment into another fight. Not when we were just starting to breathe again.Reed seemed to sense my unease because he shifted, his tone softer now.“I’ve been struggling, Rayne. A lot more than I wanted to admit. Being Luna isn’t easy. People expect perfection. Strength. Confidence. And I—I’ve been so damn insecure lately. Every time I see you drift or pull back, it feels like I’m losing you.”I stayed quiet, letting him speak.“That’s why I said what I said. I was overwhelmed. But I shouldn’t have dumped it all on you. I shouldn’t have scared you with the divorce threat. That was... extreme. And manipulative. I know that now.”He took a deep breath.“I’m sorry. Truly.”I nodded slowly.“I swear, if I ever feel that way again, I’ll talk to you. We’ll figure it out together. No more thr
RayneMorning crept in through the blinds like a soft ache behind my eyes. The light wasn’t harsh—more like a warm haze—but it still made my head pound a little harder.I blinked against it, letting my eyes adjust, waiting for the room to settle back into focus.And when it did, I saw him.Reed.Curled up in the plastic chair beside my bed like he’d been there all night. Elbows propped on the edge of the mattress, chin resting on his arms, staring at me with wide, worried eyes.There was no anger in his expression.No hurt. No distance.Just relief.And love.Like the night before had never happened. Like he hadn’t stood in the hallway with fire in his eyes and divorce in his mouth.“Hey,” he said softly, sitting up straighter when he saw my eyes open. “You’re awake.”“Yeah,” I croaked, my voice still raw. “Barely.”His face lit up. “Thank the goddess.”Before I could say anything else, he was fussing—reaching for the cup of water by the bed, checking the blanket, fluffing my pillow l
AmberI stood outside the hospital room door, my hand hovering just above the handle, willing my pulse to slow.The hall was quiet.Too quiet.It gave me too much time to think.To remember.To feel.Don’t do that, I told myself. Don’t feel anything. Not now.This wasn’t personal. This was procedure. Post-operative follow-up. One of a dozen I’d done that week. He was just another patient on my list.I took a breath. Straightened my spine.And walked in.He looked exactly how I left him—only now his eyes were open. Alert. Wild with disbelief.I didn’t flinch when I saw his expression.Didn’t react when his gaze snapped to me like I was a ghost he thought he’d buried seven years ago.He looked pale, bandaged, exhausted. But underneath the bruises and the haze, his shock was unmistakable. It poured off him like heat.And it filled me with something I hadn’t expected—pride.Not the vain kind. The quiet kind. The kind that whispered, You never thought I’d become this, did you?He had writt