Carrying The Alpha Billionaire's Heir

Chapter 11 – Hunted

Celina’s POV

THE CITY felt different without Lucien’s shadow looming over me.

Different… and dangerous.

I told myself I wanted space, that walking away from his office was some kind of victory. But as I stepped into the streets with one of his enforcers—Marcus, a broad-shouldered Beta who looked like he ate concrete for breakfast—I realized freedom came with a price. My skin prickled with the weight of eyes I couldn’t see.

“Stay close,” Marcus murmured, his voice low, scanning the crowd like every stranger might sprout claws.

I forced a laugh I didn’t feel. “I’m pregnant, not porcelain. I can walk to a café without an armed escort.”

He didn’t smile. “You’re carrying his heir. You’re worth more than porcelain. You’re worth wars.”

That shut me up.

The late afternoon sun slid between buildings, throwing long shadows across the sidewalks. Every sound seemed sharper—heels clicking behind me, the rustle of paper from a vendor’s cart, the distant blare of a horn. My mind wouldn’t stop replaying the look in Lucien’s eyes before I left. He hadn’t been angry, not exactly. He’d been… calculating.

And I hated that I missed him already.

We stopped at a little café on a corner. I sipped a latte and pretended to scroll through my phone while Marcus stayed posted by the door, watching like the whole city was a threat. My chest tightened when I noticed a couple across the street—hands intertwined, laughing like nothing in the world could touch them. I wanted that. I wanted the simplicity of loving someone without every heartbeat turning into a political liability.

But I knew better.

Five years ago, I’d believed love was enough. My sister had believed it too. She’d trusted the wrong Alpha, and he’d used her as leverage in a territorial game. She’d paid for it with her life.

And now, here I was. Carrying a child who was already a pawn.

By the time I left the café, the sun had dipped lower, the city bleeding into gold and shadow. Marcus kept glancing at me like he wanted to say something, but before he could, his phone buzzed.

He stepped a few paces away to answer. That’s when I heard it.

Footsteps. Heavy. Deliberate. Too close.

I turned, but the crowd had thinned. The street felt… wrong.

“Marcus?” My voice was sharper than I intended.

He was still on the phone. I could feel my pulse in my throat now, my wolf stirring uneasily beneath my skin. And then I saw him.

A man—or at least he started as one—emerging from the alley ahead. His movements were jerky, predatory. His eyes glowed faint amber, his scent sharp with aggression.

“Pretty little thing,” he rasped, voice carrying over the hum of the street. “Carrying poison in your belly.”

My stomach turned to ice.

I backed up, scanning for Marcus—but the rogue was faster. His bones cracked, fur pushing through skin as he shifted halfway, claws sprouting from his hands.

“Lucien’s spawn isn’t welcome,” he snarled. “The old blood will rise again.”

I didn’t think. I ran.

The city blurred. My breath burned. People shouted as I shoved past them, but the rogue was gaining. I could hear his claws scraping pavement, the wet growl in his throat.

I took a sharp turn into another street, my body screaming with the effort. My hands went to my stomach instinctively, shielding the tiny life inside me.

A shadow lunged from the side—he tackled me hard, sending us both sprawling. My palms scraped concrete, pain shooting up my wrists.

“Stop fighting,” he hissed against my ear, hot breath reeking of blood. “Better you die now than bring that abomination into the world.”

Panic roared in my ears. I kicked, clawed, bit—but he was stronger. I felt the sting of claws against my side, and white-hot pain flared. My wolf screamed inside me, but fear kept her caged.

Then—another snarl split the air.

A blur of motion. The weight on me was gone.

I rolled onto my back in time to see Rhys. My breath caught—not because I’d never seen him fight, but because I’d never seen him like this. His wolf had bled halfway through his human form—eyes molten gold, fangs bared, every muscle coiled like a weapon.

He didn’t just fight the rogue—he dismantled him. Claws against claws, teeth sinking deep, blood spraying across the pavement. The rogue screamed once, twice, then nothing. His body crumpled, lifeless.

Rhys stood over him, chest heaving, his hands shaking. When he turned to me, his eyes softened, but the rage underneath hadn’t cooled.

“Celina.” His voice was low, urgent.

I tried to sit up, but the world tilted dangerously. My stomach cramped hard, the pain tearing a sob from my throat.

Rhys was at my side in an instant, his hands gentle now, checking me like I might break. “You’re bleeding.”

The fear hit me all over again—this time not for myself. “The baby—”

“We’re getting you to a hospital.” His tone left no room for argument.

I clung to him as he lifted me, my head pressed to his chest. His heartbeat was a steady drum against my ear, but I could hear the tremor in his breathing.

The next minutes blurred—sirens, flashing lights, voices shouting orders. They rushed me into an exam room, Rhys pacing outside like a caged animal.

I kept my eyes on the ceiling, counting every second until I heard the doctor’s voice.

“You’re stable,” she said finally. “The baby’s heartbeat is strong. But you need to rest. Any more trauma like this could—”

I didn’t let her finish. I already knew what she was going to say.

When she left, I let out a shaky breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. My hands still trembled against the hospital blanket.

The door opened again.

I thought it was Rhys. But it wasn’t.

Lucien stepped inside, every line of his body taut. His suit was immaculate, but his eyes… gods, his eyes were a storm.

He didn’t speak right away. He just crossed to my bedside, knelt, and took my hand in his.

For once, there was no mask. No smirk. Just raw, unshielded regret.

“I should’ve protected you,” he said quietly.

My throat tightened. “Lucien—”

His gaze held mine, steady and unflinching. “But I don’t know how to love what I might lose.”

The words landed heavier than any threat ever could.

And I didn’t know if I wanted to kiss him… or run.

WHEN I WOKE, the room was dim, the steady beep of a heart monitor the only sound. My stomach was strapped with a fetal monitor, and for a moment, I was afraid to look.

A nurse noticed I was awake. “The baby’s heartbeat is strong,” she said softly. “You were lucky.”

I let out a shaky breath, my eyes stinging. Lucky. That didn’t feel like the right word.

The door opened—too fast, too forcefully. Rhys stepped in first, broad-shouldered and tense, his shirt still stained with blood that wasn’t his. Lucien followed, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop.

“You call this protection?” Rhys’s voice was a low snarl. “She was nearly torn apart, and where the hell were you?”

Lucien’s gaze didn’t shift from me, but his jaw tightened. “Careful, Beta.”

“No,” Rhys bit out, moving to the side of my bed like a shield. “Careful is what got her hunted in the first place. You think keeping her under lock and key is enough? Your enemies knew exactly where she’d be.”

Lucien’s eyes finally snapped to him, cold and sharp. “And yet you got there just in time. Almost like you were waiting for your chance to play hero.”

“Better a hero than a coward hiding behind walls while she bleeds!” Rhys stepped closer, his wolf riding the edge of his voice. “If you can’t keep her safe, then maybe you don’t deserve—”

“That’s enough!” My voice cracked in the space between them, my pulse spiking.

They froze, glaring at each other like one wrong breath would ignite the air. Rhys’s shoulders heaved, but after a tense beat, he backed away toward the door.

“You can thank me later,” he said to me, softer now, but his glare at Lucien was pure warning before he slipped out.

Silence filled the room like smoke.

Lucien stood there, his expression unreadable—but his eyes… they burned. He crossed the room slowly, like he wasn’t sure I wouldn’t shatter if he moved too fast.

When he reached my bedside, he didn’t speak right away. His hand hovered above mine, not touching, as if afraid he might hurt me.

“I should’ve protected you,” he said finally, his voice low, raw. He sank to one knee beside the bed, his gaze fixed on mine. “But I don’t know how to love what I might lose.”

The words cut through me, sharper than claws.

Because in them, I heard the truth—his fear wasn’t just about power or control. It was about me. And maybe, somewhere deep down, it was about the tiny heartbeat between us, too.