Irina’s POV

The darkness was incredibly heavy.

It completely suffocated me. I was floating in a deep, black, terrifying ocean. My head violently pounded. A sharp, relentless throbbing hammered aggressively against the inside of my fragile skull.

*Thump. Thump. Thump.*

I tried to swallow. My throat was completely parched. It felt like it was coated in thick, burning sandpaper. I couldn’t breathe properly. Every single intake of air was a shallow, painful gasp.

Slowly, agonizingly, the heavy black fog began to lift.

My physical senses violently snapped back to life.

The first thing that hit me was the smell. The thick, intoxicating, overwhelming scent of dark cedar and sharp spice violently invaded my lungs. Nicholas. His massive, dominating Alpha aura was completely entirely crushing the air right out of the room. But there was something else, too. The sharp, bitter, metallic tang of pure anxiety. The sterile, cold scent of rubbing alcohol.

I was lying on something incredibly soft. The expensive, dark silk sheets of the master bed smoothly brushed against my bare, bruised legs.

I weakly fluttered my eyelashes.

The harsh, warm light of the massive crystal chandelier violently pierced my sensitive eyes. I squeezed them tightly shut. I let out a soft, broken, pathetic whimper.

"Irina."

A deep, gravelly, incredibly hoarse voice violently vibrated right next to my ear.

I violently flinched. My frail shoulders instantly curled completely forward in pure, reflexive submission. My inner wolf completely shrank down, utterly terrified of the brutal power radiating off the man beside me.

I forced my blurry eyes to open.

I expected to be entirely alone with him. I expected to wake up to his blinding, terrifying rage. The last thing I remembered was the fight. The screaming. I remembered begging him to let me go to school. I remembered his deafening, brutal Alpha roar ordering me to stay in his gilded cage until the day I died.

I thought I was dead. I thought he had finally completely broken me.

But as my vision slowly cleared, my heart violently dropped straight into my stomach.

We were not alone.

There was a heavy, suffocating crowd of people entirely surrounding the massive king-sized bed.

I instantly froze. My breath violently hitched in my tight throat. A cold, lethal spike of sheer panic forcefully pierced my chest.

Dr. Harrison stood right near the headboard. The older pack doctor was sweating profusely. His perfectly pressed white medical coat was entirely wrinkled. He clutched his black medical bag so tightly his old knuckles were completely white. He looked absolutely terrified.

A few feet away stood Andrei.

The Royal Gamma’s normally relaxed, smiling face was completely gone. He was standing perfectly rigid. His sharp eyes were intensely focused on my pale face. The heavy, lethal tension rolling off his muscular body was entirely palpable.

And then, my blurry gaze shifted to the foot of the massive bed.

My blood ran completely freezing cold.

Roman.

The Royal Beta was actually standing inside my bedroom.

I completely stopped breathing. My small, trembling hands instinctively gripped the thick silk blankets. I pulled them desperately up to my chin, trying to completely hide my fragile, broken body.

Roman absolutely despised me. He hated everything about me. He couldn’t even stand to look at me in the grand foyer. He deliberately boycotted Luka’s first birthday just to completely disrespect me. He thought I was a pathetic, useless stain on their massive underworld empire.

Yet, here he was.

He was dressed in his immaculate, dark tailored suit. But he didn’t look angry. He didn’t have his usual dark, mocking sneer on his elegant face. Instead, Roman looked completely shocked. He was completely pale. His dark, cold eyes were intensely staring at my stomach.

Why was he here?

Why were all of the most powerful, lethal men in the entire werewolf mafia completely surrounding my bed?

A sudden, terrifying thought violently crashed into my mind.

Was I dying? Did I have some kind of incurable, fatal disease? Was Nicholas going to execute me right here in front of his inner circle for daring to scream at him?

I started to hyperventilate. My small chest heaved with violent, ragged gasps.

"Irina. Look at me."

Nicholas shifted heavily on the mattress. His massive frame completely blocked out the harsh chandelier light.

I slowly turned my head.

Nicholas looked completely unhinged. His expensive white dress shirt was completely ruined. His dark hair was wildly sticking up in every direction. But it was his eyes that terrified me the most.

His golden Alpha eyes were glowing brightly in the dim room. They were burning with a fierce, frantic, entirely desperate fire.

He reached out. His massive, heavily scarred hand completely swallowed my tiny, freezing fingers. He gripped my hand with an absolute, unbreakable iron grip.

But he was shaking.

The most lethal, ruthless Alpha King in the entire world was actually violently trembling.

"Little bird," Nicholas whispered darkly. His voice was completely raw. It sounded like he had swallowed broken glass.

I stared blindly at him. The heavy, suffocating silence in the room was completely absolute.

No one moved. No one spoke. The Royal Beta, the Royal Gamma, the pack doctor—they all stood like frozen, unfeeling stone statues.

The sheer, concentrated power of their combined auras was enough to drive any normal Omega completely insane. It was entirely overwhelming. It was crushing my lungs.

I couldn’t take the suspense anymore. The terrifying silence was violently tearing my fragile mind completely apart. I needed to know. I needed to know exactly what was wrong with my broken body. I needed to know why Roman was staring at me like I was some kind of holy miracle instead of a piece of trash.

I swallowed hard. I gathered every single ounce of pathetic, desperate courage I had left.

I slowly parted my cracked, dry lips.

I was just about to force the words out. I was just about to ask, *What happened?*

Suddenly, the thick, heavy blankets near Nicholas’s massive thigh began to violently rustle.

A tiny, soft body shifted directly against my hip.

I violently blinked.

Luka.

My sweet, innocent baby boy had been sitting completely quietly on the massive bed the entire time. I hadn’t even noticed him in my blind panic.

Luka patted his small, chubby hands heavily against the dark silk sheets. He slowly crawled over the thick, messy blankets. His small knees sank completely into the soft mattress. He ignored the terrifying, heavily armed mafia men completely surrounding us. He completely ignored his massive, entirely lethal father.

He crawled directly toward me.

He reached my chest. He plopped down heavily onto his small bottom. His bright, beautiful eyes looked directly down into my completely terrified face. He smiled incredibly brightly.

Luka opened his tiny mouth.

"Mama!"