The corridors of Grimhowl blurred past me as I moved with barely controlled urgency, my palm pressed protectively against the secret that transformed everything.
Each rapid footfall echoed the singular truth pounding through my consciousness: a daughter grew within me, beautiful and damning in equal measure.
The servants I passed became mere shadows at the edge of vision, their curious glances unable to penetrate the storm of implications raging through my mind.
Under different stars, this revelation would warrant celebration—tears of joy for a girl who would know freedom her brothers could only dream of, who would grow without the shadow of traditions demanding blood.
Instead, the knowledge carried the weight of catastrophe, each heartbeat unraveling months of careful planning with the terrifying delicacy of new life itself.
The training room's familiar scent of leather and sweat grounded my racing thoughts as I pushed through the heavy doors.
Korin worked alone in the afternoon quiet, methodically arranging practice weapons with the precise movements of one who finds solace in order when chaos threatens to overwhelm.
The scrape of steel against wood ceased instantly as he registered my presence.
"Lyanna?" He crossed the space between us in three swift strides, concern etching deep lines across his features as he took in my disheveled appearance. "What's happened? You look as if you've seen the dead walk."
The words tumbled forth before I could shape them properly, my hands finding his with desperate need for an anchor against the storm. "I'm pregnant."
The declaration hung between us for a heartbeat, his grey eyes widening with a mixture of joy and terror. But before he could respond, I delivered the revelation that changed everything:
"It's a girl, Korin. Our girl."
The transformation in his expression defied description—shock dissolving into something luminous and terrible in its vulnerability.
His grip on my hands tightened as if I might dissolve into mist, then loosened entirely as something fundamental shifted in his understanding of the world.
"A girl..." The words escaped him on an exhale that carried years of suppressed longing, dreams he'd never dared voice even in the privacy of his own mind.
His knees found the floor with unconscious reverence, and I watched this warrior who had endured months of torture without breaking suddenly come undone at the reality of impending fatherhood.
His lips pressed against the fabric covering my still-flat stomach while his forehead rested there as if in prayer to powers greater than any Alpha's authority.
"Damn it, I'm going to be a father..." His voice cracked with emotion so raw it made my own tears spill freely. "Is this all real? Not another fever dream in those dungeons?"
"It's real," I whispered, my fingers threading through his hair with infinite tenderness. "She's real, growing inside me right now. Our daughter."
He rose with sudden energy, the warrior's strength returning as he lifted me into an embrace that spun us both through space and possibility.
"A daughter! Lyanna, we made a daughter! She'll have your intelligence, your courage…"
"And your strength," I added, laughing despite everything, allowing us this stolen moment of pure joy. "Your loyalty, your ability to endure anything…"
"She'll be magnificent," he said, setting me down but keeping his hands on my waist. "We'll name her something beautiful, something that speaks of hope rather than conquest…"
His growing exuberance, the volume of his joy rising with each word, drew my palm gently to his mouth.
"The walls have ears," I reminded him softly, though I hated stealing even a second of his happiness. "And those ears are always listening for weakness to exploit."
"You're right, I'm sorry," he breathed against my fingers, pressing a kiss to my palm before releasing it.
The joy in his eyes tempered into grim understanding as the full implications crashed over him like cold water. "Rheakar expects a son. An heir to continue the traditions, to carry forward his legacy of dominance."
"And instead, I carry a daughter who cannot inherit, cannot fight for succession, cannot serve any purpose in his worldview except to be married off for alliance."
My hand found my belly again, protective instinct already fierce. "When he discovers this, his rage won't distinguish between betrayal and biology. We'll all burn in the fire of his disappointment."
"He'll kill her," Korin said flatly.
The words hanging between us like a death sentence already pronounced.
"The moment she's born, if not before, he’ll kill her. A daughter is worse than barrenness to him—it's a mockery of his virility, proof that even his seed cannot guarantee the outcomes he demands."
"Which is why he can never know. Not until we're beyond his reach." I moved to the window, checking that no curious faces observed our meeting.
"Marcus won't be able to determine gender for months yet. But when he does..."
"We contact Lucien tonight," Korin stated with the finality of one accepting inevitable conflict.
"No more waiting for perfect timing, no more careful orchestration. Veyra left for Moonridge—she will be back within the next few days. But we need contingency plans, multiple escape routes, options if the primary extraction fails."
The word 'war' remained unspoken between us, but its shadow darkened every corner of our fragile hope. If we failed, if Rheakar discovered the truth before we could escape, blood would flow in rivers.
Lucien would abandon all restraint, and two packs would destroy each other over the tiny life growing within me.
"How do we send a word?" I asked, practical concerns grounding the enormity of our situation. "The window messages have stopped—either intercepted or the route compromised."
"There are other ways. Servants who remember when I was Beta, who might carry a message for old loyalty's sake. Traders who move between territories and ask no questions for the right price."
He pulled me close again, his chin resting atop my head. "We'll find a way. We have to."
"Three months," I said against his chest, calculating the timeline with desperate precision. "That's how long before Marcus can determine gender with certainty. Everything has to happen before then."
"Then we make it happen," Korin said with quiet determination. "I've survived torture, you've survived violation, we've both survived the revelation about Silvermoon. We'll survive this too."
"Our daughter," I tasted the words like honey and poison combined. "She'll never know the weight of these walls, the suffocation of traditions that would define her before she draws her first breath."
"I swear it," Korin vowed, and in his voice I heard the same steel that had helped me escape six years ago, the same unwavering determination that had endured months of agony rather than betray my location.
Time, already precious, had become our most dangerous enemy now.
But for this moment, in this training room that had witnessed so much pain, we held each other and dared to dream of a future where our daughter would laugh freely, unburdened by the bloody legacy of Grimhowl Pack.