Chapter 5 Chapter five

Sophia’s POV

I had spent the entire morning going completely out of my mind.

I didn't care about his money. I didn't care about his shiny reputation, his draft prospects, or the pack politics Mia kept yapping about. And I sure as hell didn't want to play happy family with a guy who treated me like garbage in the hallway.

But this baby had a right to exist. It had a right to know who its father was, even if that father was an arrogant prick.

He'd taken off earlier after looking at me like he'd seen a ghost. So here I was, coming to him instead.

I waited in the dim corridor outside the private varsity locker rooms until the thumping of skate bags and loud banter finally died down. When the last player walked out, I slipped through the door.

Alexander was sitting alone on the center wooden bench. He was still in his black workout compression shirt and gray sweatpants, his forearms resting on his knees, his dark hair damp from the shower. His head was down, staring at the rubber floor tiles like the weight of the entire building was sitting on his shoulders.

He didn't look like the golden boy, and he sure as hell didn't look like the untouchable campus god. He looked exhausted, tense. Almost... terrified.

I took a deep breath, clutching the straps of my backpack until my fingers went numb, and stepped forward.

"Alexander."

His head snapped up instantly. Those dark, intense eyes locked onto mine, and for a second, the heat in his gaze made my knees want to buckle. I expected him to sneer at me or ask me to leave before anyone saw us. But he just stood up slowly, towering over me in the quiet room.

"I need to tell you something," I said, forcing my voice to stay level. "About that night. About—"

"How far along are you?" he interrupted.

The words hit me like a physical slap.

I froze, the breath catching in my dry throat. My mind went blank. I hadn't said the word pregnant. I hadn't even touched my stomach. I was wearing an oversized hoodie that hid every single curve of my body.

"What?" I choked out, taking half a step back. "How... how do you know that?"

Alexander didn't answer. Instead, he took two slow, predatory steps toward me, closing the distance until my back hit the cool metal of the lockers.

The air in the room shifted. It grew thick and boiling hot, smelling overwhelmingly of dark cedarwood and raw energy.

Then his eyes changed.

The dark brown iris dissolved, swirling into a bright, glowing, molten amber that practically burned in the dim light. A deep, inhuman vibration rumbled in his chest—a wild animal rising right to the surface of his skin.

I gasped, my hands flying up on instinct to brace against his chest and push him away.

The second my palms made contact with his warm skin, something violently snapped inside me. An electric shock ripped through my veins, traveling straight down into my chest.

And then... the pain stopped.

The dull, grinding ache that had lived inside my ribs for years vanished into thin air. The erratic, fluttering rhythm of my failing heart settled instantly, beating steadily under his touch. It was the first time in my whole life that breathing didn't feel like a battle.

I stared up at him in disbelief, my lips trembling as tears pricked the corners of my eyes.

Alexander leaned down, his forehead almost touching mine, his breath warm against my cheek. "You're my mate," he whispered, his voice deep and gravelly, shaking with awe.

"No," I breathed, panic clawing at my throat as I tried to shove him off, my brain fighting against the sudden, terrifying calm of my body. "No, you're crazy. Back off, Alexander—"

The locker room doors slammed open with a loud crash that rang off the high ceiling.

I jumped, stumbling sideways away from Alexander.

A tall, broad-shouldered man with silver-streaked dark hair and a tailored black wool coat walked in. He had the exact same jawline and ruthless aura as Alexander, radiating a crushing authority that made the room feel twenty degrees colder. Two guards in black suits flanked him, their hands resting over concealed weapons.

Alexander stepped directly in front of me, his body tensing into a defensive wall, a low snarl ripping from his throat. "Father," he warned.

The older man didn't look at Alexander. His cold gray eyes swept over the room, locking directly onto me. Then his gaze dropped, pinning straight to my stomach.

I felt completely exposed. It was horrifying—like he didn't even need an ultrasound. He could feel the tiny soul growing inside me just like Alexander had, sensing the shift in the air with chilling accuracy.

The man’s harsh expression shattered into stunned shock. His eyes widened, his hands tightening around the silver handle of his cane until the leather creaked.

"That's impossible, Alex," the man said, his voice sharp with disbelief. "She's pregnant and it's yours. That makes no sense."

What?

I looked between them, my analytical mind scrambling to catch up. Infertile? The Blackwood heir was supposed to be infertile?

"What, ruined your plans on disowning and replacing me?" Alexander shot back bitterly.

In less than three seconds, the atmosphere in the room shifted from cold family hostility to something infinitely more dangerous.

I wasn't just a broke college student on a scholarship anymore. I wasn't just a cleaner who had made a desperate mistake. Based on the sudden, predatory gleam in the older man's eyes, I was carrying the most powerful and important heir in the entire territory.

Alexander's father took a slow step forward, his shock hardening into ruthless calculation. He turned his head slightly toward the two armed guards at the entrance.

"Nobody lets that girl leave this campus," he commanded, his voice echoing like a death sentence.

My blood ran cold. They couldn't trap me here. My hands began to shake violently, my heart trying to break into a panic again, only kept steady by Alexander's stupidly close proximity.

Alexander bared his fangs, his fists clenching. "Touch her and I will tear your throat out."

His father didn't even blink. He simply looked at his son, his voice dropping into a flat, absolute order.

"Marry her if you have to. Nothing happens to that baby."