The Lunar Curse: A Second Chance With Alpha Draven novel Chapter 204

Chapter 204: The Pregnant Woman

(Third Person).

Two weeks had passed since the black van had swallowed the pregnant woman by the roadside — two weeks since her muffled scream was silenced under gloved palms.

In the underground corridors of Section Nine, the fluorescent lights flickered with a cold, clinical disinterest.

Down here, time was measured not in days, but in heartbeats... and in how long a body could last under a scalpel.

Dr. Nera paused outside Observation Room C, clipboard in hand. Her eyes flicked to the notes:

Subject 27-B: Human, female, approximately eight months gestation.

Yet when she lifted her gaze through the small reinforced window, what she saw made her heart squeeze, though she quickly buried it under practised detachment.

The woman, barely thirty, lay strapped to a gurney, ankles and wrists bound in padded restraints.

Strands of sweat-soaked hair clung to her pale forehead. And her belly... round, straining, as if pleading silently for the nightmare to end.

Nera’s colleague, Dr. Halvors, joined her. His voice, low and almost bored, carried no warmth.

"She’s overdue now," he murmured. "We can’t risk complications. Schedule the extraction."

"C-section?" Nera asked, though she already knew the answer.

"Of course," he said. "We need the infant alive. As pure as possible."

Moments later, in the small theatre lit by cruel white lamps, two masked doctors stood over the unconscious woman who had been kidnapped a few weeks ago.

They had sedated her hours earlier, muttering about ’minimizing distress.’

In truth, they feared her screaming more than they feared her pain.

The machines beeped, a steady, artificial lullaby.

"Scalpel," Dr. Halvors said.

Dr. Nera handed it over, fingers trembling almost imperceptibly.

With the first careful incision, warm blood rose.

Within minutes, the child emerged, slick and red, wailing at the cold and light.

Halvors barely glanced at the mother. His eyes fixated on the baby, searching for signs of viability.

"Umbilical," he ordered. A nurse clamped and cut.

The mother’s chest rose and fell in a slow, shallow rhythm. But the baby’s cries were too strong.

"Take it," Halvors barked.

A junior nurse, her hands trembling, carried the infant toward the neonatal observation unit — a sterile glass tank on the other side of the room.

Nera turned back to the mother. "What about her?" she asked softly.

"Induce coma," Halvors replied, wiping his brow. "She can’t go back yet. The bruising needs to fade first."

As the nurse injected the sedative, the woman’s breaths slowed... and then deepened into an unnatural stillness.

---

In Section Nine’s holding cells, the wolves shifted restlessly. They couldn’t see the operating room, but they smelled the fresh blood.

One young male bared his teeth, a growl rumbling low in his chest.

Across the corridor, Levik — the young assistant — paused, the tray in his hands shaking. The smell clawed at him too: metallic, raw, alive.

In his chest, something humane stirred, but he swallowed it down, turned, and kept walking.

Several hours later, under the cover of the city’s deepest night, a black, unmarked van rumbled out of the lab’s hidden freight entrance.

Inside, the woman lay limp on a stretcher, breathing shallowly.

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