The Alpha Twins Begged Us to Stay

My sister and I married the twin Alphas. Everyone in the pack called us blessed.

When rogues attacked me five months into my pregnancy, our mates cut off our calls for help. Their stepsister needed them.

My baby died. My sister saved me, but the silver blade that struck her left her unable to shift again.

From my hospital bed, I told my husband I wanted our mate bond severed.

He ignored me for two days. Then I told him our child was gone.

His answer came at once: “Stop using our baby to manipulate me.”

I waited until my sister, Mara, woke in the bed beside mine before I contacted my husband.

Dominic and his twin brother, Tristan, were the Alphas of our pack. Dominic was my mate; Tristan was Mara's. Neither had come to the infirmary since the attack.

“I want to sever our mate bond,” I sent Dominic through the link that joined us.

For two days, he gave me nothing. Each attempt to reach him met the same closed barrier. He was blocking me.

At last, I picked up my phone and typed, “Our baby is gone.”

He called immediately.

“Rowan, is this what you've resorted to? I don't answer your messages, so you get rid of our child?”

I gripped the phone. “Dominic—”

“I told you to stay in the pack house while you were carrying my heir. You took off on your own, then called me nine times straight. What is wrong with you?”

Nine. He knew how many times I'd tried.

“Celeste was in danger,” he continued. “She was kidnapped. She nearly lost her baby. What on earth matters more than saving two lives?”

Celeste was their stepsister. Since she'd returned to the pack house, both brothers had treated every need of hers as an emergency.

“Stop using our child to manipulate me,” Dominic said. “If you want to end the pregnancy, go ahead. Do whatever you want.”

“Dom.” Celeste's voice came faintly through the phone. “Don't be mad at her. She was worried about you. This is all on me.”

His tone changed at once. “Cece, none of this is your fault.”

Then he hung up.

I kept the phone against my ear for a moment, listening to nothing. He hadn't asked where I was. He hadn't let me explain what had happened to the child he kept calling his heir.

I set the phone down and rested my hand above the bandages on my abdomen.

Five months. I'd carried our baby for five months. The last time I'd heard the heartbeat, the healer had smiled and told me everything looked good. Now she couldn't promise I'd ever conceive again. The rogues' claws had done too much damage.

Dominic didn't know about that conversation. He hadn't listened long enough to learn our baby was dead.

The rogues had been waiting for me in the forest.

Their leader struck me before I could run. I hit a tree, stunned, and one of his men pulled my arms behind the trunk and bound my wrists.

“Your mate drove my pack off our land,” the leader said. “Took our hunting grounds. Left us with nothing.”

I tried to keep my feet beneath me. “What do you want?”

“That territory up north. He can hand it over if he wants you back.”

Land. They wanted land, not my life. I held on to that as I reached for Dominic through our mate-link.

No answer.

I tried again. And again. The rogues grew impatient. A claw caught my cheek; a kick knocked my legs out from under me. I called nine times without getting a response.

On the tenth, Dominic finally let me through.

“I'm trying to save Cece. Stop bothering me.”

“Please, listen. They've got—”

The link closed.

“Well?” the leader asked.

I couldn't tell him Dominic had refused to listen. I couldn't make another call connect, either. The men watching me began to laugh.

Their leader leaned closer. “He doesn't care.”

“Please.” I strained against the ropes, my voice cracking. “I'm pregnant. Whatever you want, I'll do it. Just don't hurt my baby.”

He cut me loose and threw me down. I barely felt it. I curled up and wrapped both arms around my stomach, still pleading. They could do anything they wanted to me as long as my child lived.

He wrenched my arms away, and his claws tore into my abdomen.

For a moment, I couldn't draw breath. Then I was screaming, both hands pressed against the wound. I had felt the baby move that morning. I kept waiting to feel it again.

The men stepped back as blood soaked my clothes. I was getting cold. I couldn't hold my head up.

Mara came through the trees calling my name.

She dropped beside me and caught my face between her hands. “Why didn't you call me? I felt you through our sister bond. Rowan, look at me.”

I tried to answer. She saw the wound and stopped asking.

Before the men could react, she got my arm over her shoulders and hauled me up.

“Keep moving,” she said. “Lean on me.”

“Tristan, we need help,” she dragged me toward the edge of the trees, reaching for her own mate. “Rowan's been attacked.”

His reply was loud enough for me to catch through the connection she held open for us.

“Looking for Cece. Don't bother me.”

Mara went still. Then she tried the pack guards. A mate-link could reach across the distance; the ordinary pack link couldn't. We were too far out past the border.

The rogues followed. I could barely lift my feet, and she was carrying most of my weight. On a steep stretch of trail, the wet bank gave way beneath us. Mara dragged me clear of the sliding mud, but we'd lost what little distance we'd gained.

One of the men caught her and drove a silver dagger into her abdomen.

She cried out. I felt her stagger, then tighten her grip on me. Wolves snapped at her legs and arms as she fought them off, refusing to leave me where I fell.

I remember her shouting for help. I remember uniforms through the trees and the rogues turning to run.

The border patrol carried us back.

When I woke in the pack infirmary, the healer told me my baby had died. I listened without interrupting. I had known in the forest, but until she said it, some part of me had still been waiting to be wrong.

Then I asked about Mara.

“The silver spread too far,” the healer said. “We stopped the poisoning, but we couldn't save her wolf. She won't be able to shift again.”

I turned toward the other bed. My sister lay unconscious under a white blanket, her bandaged hand just beyond my reach.

She had come when I needed her. She would spend the rest of her life paying for it.