Chapter 4 - The Two Lines
1356 Words
Celina’s POV
IT WAS barely past dawn when I closed the drawer with finality, heart pounding against my ribs like a war drum. The air in Lucien’s mansion felt heavier than usual, saturated with the bitter residue of his words the night before.
We don’t mix. Don’t mistake lust for meaning.
I repeated it in my head as I shoved my few belongings into a duffel bag, like some self-inflicted punishment. The echo of our night together still haunted my skin, the bruising memory of his lips now curdled into regret.
He hadn’t come to check on me.
Not after I slipped out of his bed. Not when I hadn’t touched my breakfast. Not even when I didn’t appear for the usual press-prepped brunch, he insisted we attend together.
Good. It made leaving easier.
Except it didn’t.
The moment my feet crossed the marble threshold of the front door, my chest tightened with the weight of what I was doing. Disappearing. Running. But this wasn’t cowardice. This was survival. Self-preservation. Because staying meant unraveling in front of a man who didn’t want me, not beyond the confines of control and performance.
I took the back exit and called the only person I know who’s willing to help me.
Rhys answered on the second ring.
“Celina?”
My throat constricted. I hadn’t realized until then that I was holding back tears. “I need somewhere to go. Somewhere no one will find me.”
His silence was short but layered. “Say no more. I’ll text you an address. Cabin in the north woods. Belongs to my uncle, but it’s empty. No one will bother you.”
“Thank you,” I choked out.
“I’ll have groceries delivered once a week. Just stay safe.”
He didn’t ask why. He didn’t pry. He just helped.
It took three hours by train and another hour by foot along a dirt trail to reach the place. The cabin was nestled deep in the forest, blanketed by towering pines and silence that wrapped around me like a balm. When I stepped inside, I half-expected to break down. But nothing came.
Just stillness.
And in that stillness, I began to piece myself back together.
Weeks blurred. I fell into a rhythm: waking up late, journaling, avoiding mirrors. I didn’t think about Lucien. Not on purpose, anyway. But some nights, when the wind howled through the trees just right, I remembered his mouth on mine, the way his fingers gripped me like I was both a prize and a burden.
It should have been fake. A performance. But it hadn’t felt fake.
It had felt like everything. Until he made it nothing. I didn’t even notice the first sign.
My cycle was irregular, especially with all the stress, so when the days slipped past without blood or cramping, I told myself it was just hormones. Trauma. Emotional fallout.
Until I woke one morning, nauseated to the point of gagging. I hadn’t eaten anything spoiled. I hadn’t eaten at all.
Then came the breast tenderness. The exhaustion. The odd, metallic taste lingered on my tongue.
Denial clawed through me. I counted the days again, fingers trembling.
Four weeks.
Impossible.
But the idea wouldn’t stop growing. By noon, I was in the small town nearby, sunglasses and hoodie in place, walking into a pharmacy like I wasn’t about to set my life on fire.
Back at the cabin, I stared at the pregnancy test in the dim bathroom.
One line. Then two.
My knees gave out before the full result even developed.
The plastic stick clattered to the floor.
Two lines.
I covered my mouth with my hands, panic flooding my chest. My pulse roared in my ears.
Pregnant.
With his child.
I curled against the cold tile, clutching my stomach like it might already understand what I was about to face. The tears came in waves, uncontrollable, every sob echoing with the absurdity of it all.
Lucien Thorne—Alpha heir, ruthless manipulator, master of control.
And me.
The journalist who came to destroy him.
I never meant for this to happen. It was supposed to be a game. A mission. Then a lie.
Now?
Now I carried his heir.
“WE DON’T mix. Don’t mistake lust for meaning.”
He’d ripped something out of me when he said that. And now, a piece of him lived inside me.
By the time Rhys returned to the cabin, I had tucked the test deep inside my suitcase and forced my mask back on. But I wasn’t fooling anyone.
He didn’t speak at first. He walked into the bathroom, looked at me sitting there like a ghost, and simply knelt beside me. His warmth, his closeness—it undid me.
“I’m pregnant,” I whispered, my voice cracking under the weight of the words.
Rhys inhaled, slow and steady. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t speak. Instead, he gently reached for my hand.
“Okay,” he said. Just that. Like it wasn’t a disaster. Like it didn’t change everything.
I blinked at him. “You’re not surprised?”
“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t suspect it.” He ran a hand through his dark hair and exhaled. “You’ve been pale. Distant. Sick in the mornings. You weren’t hiding it as well as you thought.”
“Then why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I knew you’d tell me when you were ready.” He paused, and his voice dropped to something soft, careful. “And because I didn’t want you to feel cornered. You’ve had enough of that lately.”
God. That almost broke me.
“I’m scared, Rhys,” I admitted. “I didn’t plan this. I didn’t even plan him.” I bit my lip, then added, “And I don’t think I can go back.”
“You’re not going back,” he said with quiet certainty. “Not until you decide to. This place is yours for as long as you need it.”
I stared at him. “Why are you being so kind to me?”
His mouth curved into a sad smile. “Because I care. Because I always have.”
My heart stalled. “Rhys…”
“I once told Lucien he didn’t deserve you,” he said. “That he was too wrapped up in bloodlines and politics to see what was right in front of him.”
My breath hitched.
“I should’ve told you how I felt a long time ago,” he murmured. “Before he marked you. Before all of this became too complicated.”
“You… wanted to claim me?”
He nodded. “Still do.”
It felt like the air shifted. The tension wasn’t aggressive like it was with Lucien—it was protective, steady. Warm. I suddenly realized how close he was, his body angled toward mine, his hand still wrapped around my fingers.
“Rhys…”
“I’m not trying to pressure you,” he said quickly, as if reading my thoughts. “I know you’ve been through hell. And you’re not some prize to be won between alphas.”
I swallowed hard. “But?”
“But if you need someone—if you want someone—I’ll be here. Not just for you. For the baby, too.”
I blinked back sudden tears. Rhys’s words were a balm, but they also cracked something deeper. I’d been surviving on adrenaline and spite for days now. This was the first time someone simply offered me care without asking for anything in return.
I leaned into him, rested my forehead against his shoulder. And for a few long moments, we stayed that way.
Then my phone buzzed on the kitchen counter.
I frowned and stood, slowly crossing the room. My hands trembled as I picked it up. No name on the screen. Just a number I didn’t recognize.
With a sense of dread curling in my stomach, I opened the message. And then, my blood ran cold.
My hands gripped my phone tightly. “Lucien knows. He’s coming.”
- Writer
