My Alpha Let Me Die in Labor for His First Love

The contractions hit like lightning, tearing through my body with a violence that left me gasping. I clutched the marble countertop of our kitchen island, my knuckles white as another wave of pain crashed over me. The fluid pooling beneath my feet was warm against the cold tile—my water had broken over an hour ago.

"Brandon," I whispered to the empty house, my voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings of our hillside mansion. The storm outside rattled the floor-to-ceiling windows, rain lashing against the glass like angry claws.

My phone screen glowed mockingly on the counter: fifteen missed calls to my mate. Fifteen times I'd heard his voice, smooth and professional, telling me to leave a message. The Luna of Silver Lake pack, reduced to begging a machine for her Alpha's attention.

Another contraction seized me, and I doubled over, my vision blurring at the edges. Something was wrong—terribly wrong. The pain was too sharp, too early. I was only thirty-six weeks along.

"Please," I breathed into the phone as I dialed again, my fingers trembling. "Brandon, I need you. The baby—"

Voicemail. Again.

Tears mixed with the sweat on my face as I scrolled through my contacts. The pack doctor was at a conference in Portland. The midwife lived two hours away. In desperation, I called 911, my voice cracking as I explained my situation to the dispatcher.

"Ma'am, we're sending an ambulance immediately. Can you get to the front door?"

Each step down our grand staircase felt like climbing a mountain in reverse. The chandelier above swayed with my unsteady movements, casting dancing shadows on the walls lined with Brandon's achievements—Alpha of the Year awards, photos with pack dignitaries, everything that mattered more to him than the woman carrying his child.

The ambulance arrived thirty minutes later, its red and blue lights painting our pristine white exterior in violent colors. The EMTs, both human, worked with professional efficiency, but I could see the concern in their eyes as they loaded me onto the stretcher.

"How far to the hospital?" I managed between contractions.

"Twenty minutes in this weather," the female EMT said, checking my vitals. "Try to stay calm. We've got you."

But I wasn't calm. Terror clawed at my chest as we raced through the winding mountain roads toward Silver Lake General. Each bump sent fresh agony through my abdomen. My wolf was restless, pacing anxiously in the back of my mind, sensing the danger to our pup.

We were halfway down the mountain when the headlights appeared behind us.

At first, it was just another vehicle on the road. But as we approached the main thoroughfare, the black SUV behind us accelerated aggressively, its engine roaring through the storm. The ambulance driver glanced in his mirror, his jaw tightening.

"What the hell is this guy doing?"

The SUV pulled alongside us in the oncoming traffic lane, its tinted windows reflecting our emergency lights. For a moment, it paced us, as if the driver was making some