Pain. Blistering, hot pain, like being slowly roasted over a pit of flames. Sinclair won't need me anymore. I'll lose him. Despite my resistance, I've become hopelessly attached. My feelings for him are far stronger than I'd admit, and the thought of losing him is excruciating. I want to run, to hide, to pretend it isn't real.

I breathe through the torment, unsure how much time has passed. It feels like hours, but it's probably only been moments. The pain recedes, replaced by denial. Lydia can't be pregnant. She and Sinclair tried for years… one night couldn't possibly result in success after years of heartbreak and a failed marriage. Could it?

Of course, it wouldn't be the strangest thing. My conscience—and it's right—whispers how many times well-meaning friends offered unhelpful platitudes about my infertility: "Just wait, the day you stop trying…" or, "Sometimes stress prevents conception."

They didn't realize how hurtful that was, how it felt like blaming me. They didn't understand that while true for some, it's false for many others—some women will never conceive, no matter what. Maybe their attempts at placating me were wrong, but that doesn't mean their claims are always false. Perhaps a one-night stand was all it took for Lydia and Sinclair. What if Lydia is pregnant? What if they finally achieved what cost them their marriage? Could a child repair their relationship?

I envision a future: Sinclair and Lydia with a child, my pup and I quietly in the background—no more lies, no more fraud. Complete safety.

Wouldn't that be better? Even heartbroken, isn't my baby's safety paramount? Won't I be consumed by guilt continuing this fraud? Isn't a true Luna right for the pack?

No! A feral scream erupts. Sinclair is ours! She can't have him!

That's selfish, I realize, hating the truth. It's selfish to keep him if it's not right for him, for the pack. This isn't just about me; it's about the millions who need Sinclair's leadership.

"And if she is pregnant?" I ask, barely surfacing from my thoughts.

"She's not," Sinclair dismisses, echoing my initial thoughts. "We don't even know if I slept with her, and even if I did, we tried for years to no avail."

"But what if she is?" I press. "If she's pregnant, you'll have another potential heir, a she-wolf—everything you've been looking for. A pup with two shifter parents would be stronger than one with a human mother."

"We don't know that," Sinclair counters, his gaze piercing. "And you'll make a better Luna than Lydia ever would."

"That's not true," I correct gently, wanting to leave the bed. "I can never be a real Luna."

"What are you saying?" Sinclair asks, frowning.

"If she's pregnant, that might not be a bad thing," I sigh, failing to leave his arms.

"What?" Sinclair growls, incredulous. My response is understandable; it's strange for me to argue this. "Ella, you know Lydia—narcissistic, power-hungry. As bad as the Prince."

"I know, but you need a true Luna," I say, shrugging weakly. "And with you to control her, her worst traits wouldn't get out of hand."

"Who says I need a true Luna?" Sinclair grumbles, sounding petulant.

"You do!" I burst out, laughing. "Dominic! Since day one, you've said this arrangement is temporary, binding only until you find a real mate."

"Maybe I changed my mind," he suggests, nuzzling my neck. "Maybe I was wrong."

My heart skips a beat. Is this affection for me? Is he responding to the baby? We've shared intense intimacy without more than a kiss.

I test him. "I think Rafe is confusing your instincts, Dominic. Once he's here, I'll go back to being just some human you know."

Testing him, hmm? the little voice in my head interjects. Sounds like you're making excuses.

Sinclair growls, making me quake and lean into him, even though he's causing my unease. Now that I don't want to be separated, he puts distance between us. He shifts me to face him, straddling the gurney, staring with stern disapproval. "That isn't true. I know the difference, Ella. You and Rafe are one, but I don't want you for my Luna because of him—I want you because of you."

"But you weren't wrong," I insist, trying not to absorb his compliments. "It's one thing to deceive the pack for the greater good—but Lydia's pregnancy offers another option. An honest one, Dominic."

"Is that what you want?" he asks gruffly.

"I want my baby safe. I don't want to live a lie," I answer honestly. "And you don't want to perpetuate this fraud if you don't have to."

"So you think I should take her back, after everything she's done?" Sinclair bites, furious.

"If she's pregnant, if there's a she-wolf who can fill this role honestly, you have to choose her," I insist. "This deception isn't right, no matter how we feel."

"You still haven't told me how you feel," Sinclair points out, his hands massaging my waist.

"What does that matter?" I ask, avoiding his gaze. "Last night might have changed everything. I know it wasn't your fault, but things are complicated enough without adding feelings."

"The feelings are there whether we want them or not," Sinclair responds, trying to meet my eyes.

"I want our son to have two loving parents focused on him, not their own drama," I counter, still evading an honest answer, feeling dizzy.

"Why would our feelings prevent that?" Sinclair questions, looking blurry.

"Because it's already distracting us! We're talking about feelings instead of the real issue—Lydia might be carrying another heir. How is that supposed to work?" I reach for his arm. "Would you stop moving, please?"

Strange spots blur my vision. I try to blink them away, but they remain. "Ella?" Sinclair's urgent voice sounds distant. "Are you feeling okay?"

The last thing I hear before darkness falls is his frantic call, "I need a nurse over here!"