Chapter 10 Elara's POV
The wolf moved closer to the wall. I could hear it right above my hiding spot now, so close that if there hadn't been a floor between us, it could have touched me.
It growled softly.
"Come on!" One of the other wolves called out. "We need to keep moving!"
The wolf above me didn't move for a long moment. I held my breath, waiting, terrified that it would start digging, that it would alert the others.
Then, finally, it turned and ran to catch up with the rest of the patrol.
I waited, counting to one hundred then two hundred. When I was sure they were really gone, I finally let myself breathe properly again.
The floorboard above me lifted and Damian's face appeared, backlit by the dim light filtering into the shack.
"They're gone." He said quietly.
"You can come out.”
He helped me climb out of the crawl space. My whole body was stiff and sore from being cramped in such a small area. I sat down heavily on the floor, my legs unable to hold me anymore.
"That was close.” I whispered.
"Too close." Damian agreed he was watching me with those sharp, assessing eyes again.
"They were looking for you specifically."
"I don't understand. Who were they? Why would they be looking for me?"
"They were from a pack. It could be some of the packs close to here based on their scent markers in this territory."
The name pack meant nothing to me, just more emptiness where memories should be.
"Why would a pack be looking for me?" I asked. "I don't even know who I am."
Damian crouched down in front of me. "You are connected to a pack, Elara. I'm certain of it now.”
"How do you know?"
"Because no pack sends out search parties for rogues or random humans. They were looking for someone specific. Someone who belongs to them or who wronged them in some way."
I wrapped my arms around myself. "But I can't remember anything. I don't know if I'm part of a pack or if I did something wrong or-"
I stopped because there was a new pain in my stomach. Different from the pain in my ribs or my head. This was deeper, sharper, wrong.
"Elara?" Damian's voice seemed to come from far away.
The pain intensified. It felt like something was twisting inside me, pulling at something vital. I gasped and doubled over.
"What's wrong?" Damian's hands were on my shoulders. "Talk to me."
"My stomach.” I managed to say. "Something's wrong."
The pain grew worse. It radiated outward from my abdomen, and with it came a wave of nausea so strong that I thought I might be sick.
"Lie down." Damian ordered, guiding me onto my back.
I couldn't fight him because the pain was too much. I lay there gasping, tears streaming down my face.
Damian's hands moved to my stomach, pressing gently. I cried out.
"Where does it hurt exactly?" He asked.
"Everywhere.” I sobbed.
"It hurts everywhere."
He continued his examination, his expression growing more concerned with each passing second. His hands moved lower, pressing carefully against my lower abdomen.
I screamed the pain was unbearable.
Damian pulled back immediately. "I need to check something.” He said, his voice was tight.
"I need you to tell me the truth. Do you remember if you might be pregnant?"
Pregnant.
The word hung in the air between us.
I tried to remember and tried to search through the fog in my mind for any memory of a partner, of intimacy, of anything that would answer his question.
But there was nothing. Just the same frustrating emptiness.
"I don't know." I whispered. "I don't remember."
Damian's jaw clenched. He pressed gently against my stomach again, in a different spot this time. The pain was still there but not as sharp.
"How badly were you beaten?" He asked. "Did they target your stomach at all?"
I tried to remember the attack. The flashes of memory were still unclear, but I could recall feeling protective of something. Recall trying to shield my stomach even as the blows rained down on the rest of me.
"I think... I think I tried to protect it." I said slowly. "My stomach. During the attack. I remember trying to protect it."
Damian sat back, his expression grave.
"What?" I asked, fear creeping into my voice. "What is it?"
He met my eyes. "You need to understand something, Elara. What I'm about to tell you might be difficult to hear."
"Just tell me." I pleaded.
He took a breath. "Based on your symptoms, based on how you are reacting to pressure in specific areas, and based on what you just told me about protecting your stomach during the attack..."
He paused.
"What?" I demanded, despite the pain.
Damian's next words changed everything.
"You are pregnant, Elara and based on this pain, based on the trauma you sustained, there might be complications."
The world seemed to stop.
I was pregnant.
I pressed my hand to my stomach, to the place where a life was growing inside me. A life I didn't remember creating. A life that might belong to someone I couldn't recall.
"How far along?" I whispered.
"I'm not sure. A few weeks at least, maybe more. But right now, that's not the important question."
"Then what is?"
Damian's expression was deadly serious. "The important question is whether the baby survived the beating you took.
“And based on this pain, I'm not sure it did."