Mated To The Crippled Alpha-Chapter 251: Our Child?

The anger in me didn’t cool down. It just changed shape, like a fire that keeps eating even when you think it should be ash.

From the Morrigans to the Hales, from my death to this strange second life, the hatred and the revenge kept following me. I used to think death was the final page.

Now I know it was only the opening scene.

Camilla’s real identity was still a locked door, and the hand behind her was still hiding in the dark. It didn’t matter whose territory we stood on—Morrigans or Hale—this fight stayed the same.

Relentless.

Unforgiving.

The sky hung heavy and grey when we got back to the Hale Residence. It felt like the clouds were pressing down on our heads, squeezing the air out of our lungs.

A guard came running the moment we stepped inside. His face was pale, his breathing uneven. A lot of the pack’s men had followed us to the hospital earlier, which meant the house had been quieter than usual.

Too quiet.

"Alpha," the guard blurted, looking straight at Lewis. "Camilla is gone."

Lewis sat in his wheelchair, shoulders stiff, jaw tight. Even without standing, he carried that presence—calm on the surface, dangerous underneath.

His voice was sharp. "Explain it. How does someone vanish inside my home?"

The guard swallowed. "Sir... it’s best if you see it yourself."

I already knew about the hidden room inside Camilla’s space. I’d told Lewis a long time ago. We had searched it before—found that wall covered in pictures of Juilan, and a few little items that looked like private memories between them. Nothing screamed danger.

We thought we’d already seen everything.

We were wrong.

When the guard pushed the panel, the photo wall shifted in a way it shouldn’t have. Behind it... there was a gap. A passage. A clean cut through the house like a wound that had been covered up with pretty lies.

Another world behind the pictures.

My stomach went tight. "She planned an escape route a long time ago," I murmured, my voice low.

We stood there, staring into the dark tunnel. Everyone’s face looked grim in the dim light.

I could feel it, deep in my bones—if there was one passage, there could be more. Lewis had been away for years, and this organization had been planting seeds for decades.

This house wasn’t just a home.

It was a board.

And we were standing on a square they had chosen.

I looked at Lewis. "It’s possible the whole place has already been touched. Like... they’ve been moving through it while we slept."

Lewis didn’t blink. "We move."

His tone didn’t rise. It didn’t need to. The room obeyed anyway. Guards shifted positions instantly, spreading out like a practiced pack.

Because even if we found every hidden route, it didn’t mean we were safe. Not with people who could turn a body into a bomb. Not with people who could hide death inside walls, inside vases, even inside a potted plant and press a button from miles away.

This place had become a threat.

A big one.

Lewis gave orders fast. The rooftop piano was removed—anything large enough to hide something, anything placed as decoration that could be used as a trap. No more soft comforts. No more pretending.

Jeffrey looked... worn.

His health had been fading for years, and after everything that had happened, he looked like he was holding himself together with pure will. Seeing him like that made my chest ache.

He and Penelope were the only elders who still looked at me like I mattered. Even when their bodies grew older, their hearts stayed awake.

I didn’t want to lose that.

Jeffrey, Adam, and Juilan were moved into different villas within the Hale territory. Safer. Separate. Harder to hit all at once.

Lewis and I drove Jeffrey ourselves.

In the car, Jeffrey kept looking back at the Hale Residence as it faded behind us. His eyes carried a kind of grief that felt heavier than words.

"Our pack..." he said quietly, almost to himself. "I ruined it with my own hands."

Adam sat like stone, still drowning in the loss of his son and his mate. His face showed nothing, but that emptiness was worse than tears. It was like the outside world no longer reached him.

Vicky and Silas had been taken away for investigation. No burial. No closure. Just cold waiting and unanswered questions.

We used to think the Hales were lucky. Powerful. Protected.

Now it felt like we were all pieces on a board we didn’t choose.

Silas was a pawn, pushed forward until he broke.

Vicky played her part like a weapon.

Camilla moved like a knight, jumping over rules, striking where no one expected.

And the real hand stayed hidden, watching us bleed.

When we got to the new villa, it felt smaller. Closer. Not as many workers. Not as many people moving around. The silence sat in the corners, listening.

Later, the authorities came—territory enforcement, the kind that handled both human law and pack law when things got ugly. The one leading them was Captain Tucker. His eyes were tired, but steady.

After my statement, I couldn’t hold the question in anymore.

"Captain Tucker," I said, keeping my voice polite even though my nerves were raw, "with so many people involved... have you found the one behind all this?"

He didn’t make promises he couldn’t keep. "Ms. Ashbourne, the ones carrying out orders are small players. We’re questioning them now. But this involves too many people. A special task force has been formed."

He paused, then looked at Lewis. "We also acknowledge Mr. Hale’s cooperation. You’ve helped protect innocent lives. On behalf of those we’ve lost... and those still breathing... we’re grateful."

Then his tone softened slightly. "Justice takes time. But it comes. Darkness doesn’t win forever."

I nodded, but the unease stayed wrapped around my ribs like a tightening chain.

Because that organization didn’t feel like something you defeated with paperwork and patience.

It felt like something that watched you from behind your own mirrors.

After we settled Jeffrey down, Lewis and I finally went home.

I took a shower, scrubbing until my skin felt too sensitive. Then I crawled into bed, damp hair against my neck, fingers resting on the pendant hanging there like a promise and a warning at the same time.

The sound of water running from the bathroom should have soothed me.

It didn’t.

The moment I closed my eyes, I saw Silas again. Then Vicky. Then that ward.

My stomach twisted hard.

"Ugh!"

I slapped a hand over my mouth, breathing fast through my nose, trying to fight the nausea.

Lewis appeared almost immediately, like he had been listening for my heartbeat. His face was tight with worry as he came to the edge of the bed.

"Elena," he asked gently, "is your stomach still hurting?"

I didn’t answer properly. I just lunged forward and wrapped my arms around his waist, burying my face in his chest like I could hide inside him.

"Lewis..." My voice broke. "I’m scared. I don’t know who dies tomorrow. I don’t know if it’ll be one of us."

His arms closed around me, firm and sure. That familiar pressure settled my racing nerves. Not soft—protective. Like he was anchoring me.

"I’m here," he said. "You’re not alone. You haven’t eaten all day. Should I ask someone to bring food?"

"I can’t eat," I whispered. "Every time I close my eyes, I see her... her head at my feet. Her eyes staring at me. Blood everywhere."

Just saying it made my stomach flip again.

I rushed to the bathroom. There was nothing inside me to bring up, but my body didn’t care. The cramps still came, sharp and punishing, like my insides were trying to wring themselves clean.

Lewis followed, tapping my back slowly, patiently. When I finally stopped shaking, he handed me water.

I rinsed my mouth, breathing hard.

When I stood there, bent over the sink, he said softly, "Elena, don’t stay trapped in it. Even if you can’t eat much, try something small."

I held onto his hand like it was the only solid thing left, and a different fear crawled into my mind.

Something I had been avoiding.

In two months—two full months in Riley’s body—I hadn’t had a period.

That detail hit me late, like a delayed punch.

I had spent over a month as a spirit. Even now, part of my mind still felt like I was Elena, not Riley. I didn’t know Riley’s cycle. I didn’t know what "normal" looked like for her.

But I knew this.

Two months was too long.

My chest tightened with panic. I gripped Lewis’s wrist.

"Lewis," I said, barely able to breathe through it, "could I be pregnant?"

His answer came too fast. Too blunt.

"That can’t be."

Something about the certainty in his voice made my stomach turn in a different way.

"How can you be so sure?" I asked, staring up at him. "How can you say that like it’s a fact?"

For a second, his expression flickered—just a flash of hesitation—then softened. He reached up and brushed my cheek gently, like he hated seeing me afraid.

"Besides today," he said quietly, "I’ve always been careful. Most of the time, I used protection. And there were times I didn’t finish inside you."

I bit my lip, trying to hold onto logic through the fear. "Even then... it can still happen. Sometimes there’s... fluid. It’s basic biology, Lewis."

He didn’t argue. He just kept stroking my face, calm and steady, like he was trying to smooth the panic out of me.

"The chance is very small," he said. "You won’t get pregnant. Stop worrying."

He meant it as comfort.

But the firmness underneath made my skin prickle.

I tightened my grip on his wrist. "Why do you sound so sure I won’t?" My voice shook. "Do you really not want me to?"

I watched his eyes closely as I asked it, because whatever was hiding behind that certainty... I could feel it.

And I didn’t know if it would break me.