The Unforgivable

Darrell’s POV

The next morning, I was confused.

No. That’s not the word.

I was shattered, hollow. A man scraping at the edges of a nightmare he couldn’t wake from.

Because I had just slept with my niece.

The orphan I had raised.

The little girl who once clung to my leg during pack meetings because she didn’t feel safe anywhere else. The one whose bruises I secretly treated.

Whose notebooks I replaced when the others burned them. The only family I had left.

And now…

The light of dawn slithered through the window, cutting across the room like a blade. I sat on the edge of the bed, my elbows on my knees, my hands shaking.

I couldn’t look at her—not even when she stirred beside me. Her breath caught in her throat when she woke. I heard the moment realization struck her. Felt it in the way her body tensed.

She sat up, tangled in the bedsheet, and didn’t say a word.

Neither did I.

“Emma…” I croaked, not sure what I was even trying to say. Her name felt like ash on my tongue.

She was pale, haunted and silent.

“This... This was a mistake,” I stammered. “It can’t happen. It didn’t happen. No one—no one can ever know about this. Do you understand?”

Tears welled in her eyes, but she nodded.

And that hurt even more than if she’d screamed at me. If she’d slapped me, cursed me or even hated me.

But she didn’t.

She just nodded like someone used to bearing the shame of others.

That was the moment I truly hated myself.

She dressed quickly and left, her eyes locked on the ground. I sat there for what felt like hours, my heart punching against my ribs, my mind replaying the night before in sickening fragments.

What the hell had I done?

I wasn’t drunk enough to not remember. Not enough to pretend it wasn’t real. We’d talked, she had cried.

I had comforted her. She looked so much like my sister. My only sibling. Gone because I wasn’t there to protect her.

Was that what I was doing? Trying to find comfort in a ghost?

No.

There’s no excuse, there was not wine, not grief and not confusion.

I betrayed her.

And the worst part? I could already feel the consequences coming for me like a pack of wolves closing in on a wounded deer.

That afternoon, I stood in the training grounds, barking orders at young warriors, forcing myself into routine. It didn’t help. Emma’s silence followed me like a shadow.

My Beta status had always come with honor, discipline. I was the example others followed. The trusted second-in-command to Alpha Cyrus.

But what if they knew?

What if someone found out?

My enemies wouldn’t hesitate to use this. Warriors like Mikael, council wolves who envied my position—any of them would tear me apart if they had a reason.

And Alpha Cyrus? He’d execute me without a trial.

For the first time in years, I felt truly afraid.

Later that week, I avoided Emma completely. I left early, returned late. Issued orders through others. I couldn’t face her and I wasn’t strong enough.

But one evening, she found me.

I was in my office, poring over scouting reports, trying to ignore the headache hammering behind my eyes, when she stepped in.

Her face was pale, her hands clenched and her eyes—those wide, wounded eyes—held something deeper than pain and terror.

I stood quickly. “Emma—”

“I’m feeling something for two weeks now,” she whispered.

My vision blurred.

The word felt hit me like a blade to the gut. My knees weakened. My mouth opened, but no sound came out.

“I… I’m sure,” she continued. “It’s been weeks. I know what I feel.”

“No,” I said too fast. Too loud. “No, Emma. That can’t be what I was thinking, you’re not—”

“It’s like..., Dizz...”

Her voice cracked.

She didn’t cry. Not yet. But she looked like she was breaking inside. And I—

I froze...

My world tilted from her cries.

Emma’s POV

A few weeks after that night, I knew something was wrong.

Or maybe—deep down—I already knew what was happening. My body was changing, and not in the way I was used to.

I woke up every morning with nausea clawing at my throat. My wolf stirred uneasily, sensing the shift. I’d always been attuned to my body, trained by survival to listen to every ache and tingle. But this was different.

Heavier, slower and strange.

The scent of raw meat made me gag. My stomach twisted at the smell of herbs I used to grind with ease. My uniform grew tighter at the waist. I hadn’t had my cycle in nearly six weeks now.

One morning, as I knelt by the river behind the pack house to wash laundry, the nausea hit so hard I vomited straight into the water.

That’s when the truth became impossible to ignore.

I was pregnant.

With Darrell’s child.

A wind blew over the river, but it couldn’t cool the burning in my chest.

No. No. No.

I clutched my stomach, gasping as my world tilted. The one night I had let myself drop my guard, the one moment I had tasted comfort—however poisoned—had become the start of something irreversible.

I was carrying the child of my uncle.

The man who raised me. Protected me. Then ruined me.

That evening, I sat alone behind the servant quarters, hugging my knees to my chest. I didn't cry and I couldn’t afford to.

Crying was dangerous, crying was a luxury I’d lost years ago.

But my thoughts were a screaming storm.

What will happen to me?

Will he take responsibility?

Will he deny it?

Will the pack find out?

I didn’t have answers but only fear.

I waited two more days before confronting him. Two long days of staring into the mirror, pressing my palm over my belly and whispering, “I’m sorry.”

I wasn’t ready. I didn’t know how to be a mother. I didn’t know how to even be myself.

When I finally approached Darrell in his office, he barely looked up. Papers were spread across his desk, and his tone was curt.

“Can it wait, Emma? I’m very busy.”

“No,” I said, forcing my voice to stay steady. “It can’t.”

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, eyebrows raised. “What is it then?”

I swallowed. My heart pounded against my ribs. I could barely breathe.

Days ago I told you I was feeling something, feeling dizzy. My guess was right.

“I’m pregnant Uncle,” I said quietly.

He froze. For a moment, he didn’t blink. Then his lips parted slightly.

“What?”

“It’s yours,” I whispered, unable to say more.

Silence stretched.

And then—his face twisted into panic.

“No,” he said. “No, no. That’s not possible. You must be mistaken.”

I stared at him. “I know my own body, Darrell.”

He stood abruptly, pacing behind his chair, fingers raking through his hair. “This can’t be happening. No one can ever know. Do you understand me? No one.”

“I didn’t ask for this!” I snapped, finally letting the edge of my anger show. “Do you think I wanted this too? That I planned it?”

He stopped pacing. His face darkened.

“I have a reputation to protect, Emma,” he said, low and cold. “I’m Beta of Silvermint. I can’t be the scandal of the decade.

You—” He pointed at me like I was something dirty. “—have to understand how dangerous this is for both of us.”

“I trusted you,” I whispered. “That night, you said I reminded you of family, of her—my mother. And now you treat me like I’m a mistake you have to erase?”

He didn’t respond.

Just clenched his jaw and turned away.

That’s when I knew.

Darrell would not protect me. He would not claim the child.

He wanted this gone and forgotten.

And maybe, so did I.

But this life inside me—it was real. A flicker of warmth of potential. The only thing in this cursed pack that was truly mine.

Few days passed.

Darrell avoided me like a plague. He stopped speaking to me directly. He sent warriors to deliver orders. Even my chores at the pack house were altered so I wouldn’t have to clean the Beta quarters anymore.

The shame was heavy. I saw it in the eyes of some older Omegas. They didn’t know what had happened, but they saw something had changed.

The bullies hadn’t noticed yet. But they would. My body was changing, and soon, the whispers would come.

I needed to leave.

I felt it in my bones. The pack walls were closing in. The weight of the secret was pressing on my ribs like a vise.

But I had nowhere to go. No friends and no resources.

Until one night, Darrell summoned me to his study.

He didn’t look at me when I entered. Just gestured toward the desk.

“There’s a bag with supplies. Enough for a few weeks,” he said. “You’ll leave tonight.”

I stood frozen. “You’re… exiling me?”

He flinched. “Not officially. No one will know. I’ve arranged for a false report. A rogue attack. You’ll vanish without a trace.”

“What will you tell the pack?”

“That you went out to gather herbs and never came back.”

“And what if someone asks?”

“No one will.”

His voice was final.

He didn’t apologize. Didn’t even say goodbye.

Just handed me a pouch of coins and turned his back.