Elsa

I submitted to his order, feeling his scent and heat fill my mouth. He gripped my hair to control the pace, thrusting brutally, nearly choking me.

Each time I tried to pull back for air, he yanked me forward again. I hate you. I fucking hate you. I lost your child today and this is how you treat me?

“Take it deeper,” he growled. “You know exactly how to please me.”

The handcuffs restricted my resistance, forcing my compliance as tears blurred my vision and saliva dripped down my chin. When his phone rang, I thought I’d finally get a moment’s reprieve. Please let me breathe. Just one second to breathe.

“Stay quiet and keep going,” he whispered as he answered the video call. I was forced to continue servicing him, my tongue and lips working diligently while his hand remained firmly on the back of my neck. This is beyond humiliation. This is torture.

“Hello, darling. Everything alright?” His tone with Vera was sickeningly gentle, a stark contrast to his brutality with me.

“I miss you, Drake,” Vera’s sweet voice came through the speaker. “When are you coming home?”

“Soon, baby,” he answered, pushing my head deeper, “just finishing some paperwork.”

He deliberately tilted the phone to ensure I wouldn’t appear in the frame, enjoying the dual pleasure of control—sweet words for Vera, physical domination of me. I’m nothing but a toy to him.

When the car finally stopped at the city’s edge, I stumbled out and vomited. My abdomen screamed in pain, but Drake didn’t notice or care. The taste of bile mixed with the bitter remnants of him in my mouth.

“Come and take her home,” he instructed the driver, already making another call.

As the car pulled away, I stood shivering in the pre-dawn chill, finally accepting the truth: to Drake, I would never be more than a marked possession. And the child I’d lost—our child—would remain my secret burden alone.

I wake up with a splitting headache, the memory of yesterday’s hospital visit and Drake’s brutal treatment still raw in my mind. My body aches—both from the miscarriage and his rough handling in the car.

Fucking bastard couldn’t even give me a day to mourn the child I didn’t know we had. But I can’t afford to take another day off. In the Black Obsidian pack, showing weakness is like bleeding in shark-infested waters.

My wolf stirs restlessly beneath my skin, whimpering with grief. I press my palm against my abdomen, feeling the emptiness there.

After a quick shower to wash away hospital scents and the lingering smell of Drake, I pull on a crisp black suit—my armor for the day ahead. Breathe, Elsa. Just get through today without falling apart. The elevator ride to Stone Industries’ executive floor feels longer than usual, each floor bringing me closer to the man who doesn’t know—or care—that he lost a child yesterday.

The moment I step onto the executive floor, I hear raised voices. Kayla Moon, the oldest employee in the assistant department, stands with her back straight as a rod, facing a teary-eyed Vera.

“This is unacceptable!” Kayla says, waving a report. “Your error cost the company over ten million dollars! The Valtor Mining deal nearly fell through because of these numbers!”

Vera’s bottom lip trembles. “I-I was just trying to help…”

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