Darius had never once trained with me. But with Vera, of course, it was different. They kept talking, voices lowering to hushed whispers as they brought up my bleeding from yesterday.
“That kind of bleeding,” one of them whispered, “can only mean miscarriage. I saw it happen to a friend of mine. She’s lost the baby.”
A sharp pain tore through me at her words, fresh grief mixing with my rising fury. I bit my lip hard, struggling to keep myself from making a sound.
“But it was still the Alpha’s child, right? Even if it was half-breed, wouldn’t he come after Vera for hurting it?”
I held my breath, waiting for their response.
“No way,” the other one scoffed. “I overheard Vera talking to him yesterday. Darius said he didn’t care. He couldn’t care less about the half-breed.”
The world tilted. My legs wobbled, and I accidentally knocked against the stall, sending them scurrying. My stomach churned, anger flooding through me like wildfire. It wasn’t just that they saw me as nothing—Darius didn’t care either. I was nothing to him, and neither was our child.
By the time I made it back to the packhouse, my anger had reached a boiling point. I could barely contain it. Every step I took felt heavy, my fury pressing against my chest, clawing to get out. I just wanted to get back to the kitchen, unload the groceries, and lock myself away from everyone.
But the moment I stepped inside, a maid appeared. “The Alpha is calling for you, Miss Lyanna,” she said politely, though there was a glint of curiosity in her eyes.
I nearly growled. Of course, he was calling for me now. I’d just gotten back, and he was already pulling me away. His office was in the north wing, a long walk from where I was, and my patience was hanging by a thread. I hadn’t eaten all day, I was exhausted, and on top of that, I had to hear such vile things. I dumped the grocery bags on the maid and forced myself to head to his office.
I didn't bother knocking and just opened the door.
Darius didn’t even look up from his papers as I walked in. “I heard you haven’t eaten today,” he said flatly. “I had someone prepare a meal for you.”
I blinked, momentarily thrown off by his words. Then I saw the full-course meal on the coffee table, steam still rising from the dishes. Confusion twisted in my gut. Did he expect me to sit there and eat in front of him? I stayed silent, not moving.