The Lycan King's Outcast Omega (by Cara Anderson) novel Chapter 172

Sage

"Her condition is destabilizing," one of the doctors reports. "But her heart rate is still elevated, and her blood pressure is concerning for the pregnancy."

The mention of our child focuses my thoughts instantly, turning from self-loathing to concern for our pup. Whatever happens to me, I must protect the innocent life growing within. No matter the cost.

Through the emptiness where our bond should flow, I try to project this determination to Alaric, hoping some trace of our connection might still exist beneath Cassius's violation. I need him to know I’ll do anything to bring his heir safely into the world for him. Even if it means playing Cassius’s game.

For the briefest moment, something responds – not clear communication, not distinct emotion, but the faintest resonance like a distant echo. Alaric's eyes widen slightly, the only indication that he might have felt the same impossible connection.

"The child." My hand moves protectively to my rounded abdomen. "What effect does this... procedure... have on our baby?"

"Minimal, if properly managed," Cassius responds, though something in his expression suggests concern behind his facade. "Which is precisely why the reinforcement protocol must proceed as scheduled."

As he moves toward the bed, Alaric shifts position – not confrontational, not threatening, but establishing himself between us with casual deliberation that appears coincidental rather than strategic.

"Your physiological responses require monitoring during the procedure," Alaric states, his tone matching Cassius's clinical detachment. "As the child's biological father, I have legitimate interest in these readings."

The standoff stretches between them – Cassius's scientific certainty against Alaric's immovable presence. Through the emptiness where our bond should flow, I again reach desperately for any trace of our true connection.

This time, the response comes stronger – still not clear, still not distinct, but definite resonance where nothing should exist. Like a whisper heard across a crowded room, like a shadow glimpsed in my peripheral vision.

The silver mark beneath Cassius's violation still exists. Damaged, suppressed, but not completely erased. I’m almost certain of it.

Hope flickers where despair should reign absolute. Through whatever remnant connects us, I feel Alaric's matching realization – what the Moon Goddess blessed cannot be fully severed by any mortal magic, no matter how ancient or forbidden.

"Perhaps a modified approach," Cassius concedes, noting my still-concerning vital signs. "Initial reinforcement through proximity rather than direct contact. Sixty minutes of sustained presence at a reduced distance."

The compromise allows Alaric to maintain his protective position while Cassius takes the chair beside my bed, close enough for the forced bond to register his presence but not requiring the physical contact his original protocol demanded. It’s a small victory, a temporary reprieve.

As this strange arrangement settles into uncomfortable silence, another wave of pain crashes through my head, the forced bond fighting to establish itself against a body that recognizes the violation on cellular level. The discomfort must register through whatever fragment of our true connection remains, because Alaric's hand finds mine again, his thumb tracing patterns across my palm that communicate what words cannot.

I'm here. I'm not leaving. We'll find a way.

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