All of it—every last piece—had only been practice.
He had used me and my unborn child as a rehearsal, a trial run so Sabrina wouldn’t suffer through his inexperience. Even the nursery, which he swore was for our pup, had been prepared for the offspring in Sabrina’s womb.
I listened to the messages again and again until the ache in my chest twisted so painfully it forced out a laugh. A brittle, broken sound.
I wasn’t laughing because it was amusing.
I was laughing because the hurt was so deep it split something inside me.
Everything I had cherished since learning I was pregnant—every tender moment, every shred of hope—was nothing but a lie Lucian crafted so he could perfect his gentleness… for another wolf’s child.
His affection for my pup didn’t even scrape the surface of what he lavished on Sabrina’s unborn one.
My hand trembled as I gripped the phone, breath shuddering. My lungs felt tight, painful, like my ribcage had shrunk around my heart.
All I could do was whisper to myself, again and again:
“It’s fine. It’s fine. We’ll be alright.”
Because soon… we would be free of him.
Just me and my pup. And we would survive.