Betrayed By My Mate, Claimed By His Lycan King Uncle
Chapter 73: Push!

Chapter 73: Push!

A massive gate loomed ahead of Dimitri, Liam, and Sorayah, its towering iron bars etched with ancient runes that shimmered faintly beneath the early morning mist. Other werewolves moved steadily into the Icemist Pack’s territory, pushing wheelbarrows and crates, their bodies tense with the wariness of strangers crossing into unfamiliar land.

Without wasting time, Dimitri gripped the handles of their wooden wheelbarrow and pushed it forward toward the guards stationed at the gate. Liam followed closely behind, his eyes scanning their surroundings with quiet caution.

One of the guards stepped forward, his expression unreadable beneath the gleam of his helmet. He held up a hand to halt them. "You’re new here," he stated gruffly. "You don’t belong to this pack. What pack do you hail from?"

Dimitri met the guard’s gaze steadily and offered a respectful nod. "We’re from the Crawford Pack," he replied without hesitation, choosing his words carefully. He had made sure to select a pack known for its peaceful relations with Icemist, a neutral and strategic choice. "We’ve come with peaceful intentions."

The guard’s eyes narrowed, assessing Dimitri and Liam as though trying to peel back layers of disguise. "And what brings you here? Trade? Refuge?" he asked, his tone probing, suspicious.

"Yes, sire," Dimitri answered, putting on a genial smile. "We are farmers. We’ve heard that Icemist has cultivated some of the most fertile lands in the region, particularly for those skilled in aquatic farming. We wish to settle here, start anew, and contribute to your great pack’s prosperity. These"...he gestured to the goods stacked in the wheelbarrow.."are offerings. Samples of our harvest, meant for your Alpha."

The guard’s expression softened slightly at that. "Ah, I see," he murmured, before turning his head toward the eastern corner of the gate compound. Several werewolves stood there in line, each with a wheelbarrow of their own, goods piled high. Clearly, Dimitri and Liam were not the only outsiders hoping to gain entry through commerce.

"You will wait there," the guard said, pointing toward the others. "The Inspection Bureau will arrive shortly to examine your products."

At that moment, Sorayah’s heart lurched in her chest. She shot a glance at Dimitri, panic flashing in her eyes. The mask concealing his identity, one of his enchanted creations was only set to last two hours. And now they had to wait for an unspecified amount of time? If the bureau delayed, their entire cover could unravel.

Before she could dwell on it, a sudden idea struck. Clutching her large, padded belly, Sorayah let out a sharp, guttural cry.

"Arrrgh!" she screamed, doubling over, her face twisting in agony. Her hands pressed protectively over her fake pregnant belly.

Gasps rippled through the other werewolves nearby. The guards snapped to attention, their heads whipping toward her.

"What’s going on?" the same guard demanded, striding toward her with alarm.

Sorayah looked up, her face drenched in sweat, partly real, partly feigned and snapped, "What do you think is going on, you fool? My baby is coming! Can’t you see that, or have you never seen a pregnant woman before?"

The guard recoiled slightly, clearly caught off guard by her outburst. He swallowed, visibly uncomfortable. Though her tone was biting, she was a heavily pregnant woman or so it seemed and his training told him not to provoke her.

Dimitri immediately knelt beside her, slipping a hand around her waist as if to support her. His face contorted into a look of deep concern. "My love, can you hold on just a little longer? The inspection bureau should be here soon. Please, just a little while longer."

"I can’t! If anything happens to this baby, Jasper, I swear on the moon goddess above, I will never forgive you!" Sorayah hissed through clenched teeth, her body trembling as she mimicked the agony of labor. "Do you want to lose your child before even setting foot in this forsaken place?"

The crowd murmured, and the guards exchanged uneasy glances. No one wanted to deal with a birthing in the middle of their entrance queue but no one wanted to be the one to turn away a woman in pain either.

"Can we just go in and find her a doctor?" Dimitri asked, turning toward the guards, his voice laced with desperation. "Some of your guards can follow us if necessary and conduct an inspection later but my wife is in labor now. We don’t have time."

"Yes, please!" Liam added quickly, stepping forward with pleading eyes. "This is my sister-in-law’s third pregnancy after two devastating miscarriages. She mustn’t lose this baby again."

Sorayah wailed louder, tears streaming down her cheeks like waterfalls. The sound was raw and unrelenting, her cries echoing off the cold stone walls of the entrance gate. Her throat burned from the effort, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t afford to. Not when everything depended on this performance. It was a matter of life and death or at least, exposure and survival.

The guards exchanged uncertain glances, visibly uncomfortable. After a brief moment of tense silence, they finally stepped aside, motioning them through.

Sorayah almost gasped in surprise, but quickly stifled it. This was what she’d hoped for, after all. She forced more sobs as Dimitri pushed the wheelbarrow carrying her past the gate, Liam trailing closely behind with his own.

No guards followed them directly, but Dimitri and Liam knew better than to feel at ease. It was almost certain that some were tracking them from the shadows, watching their every move.

The city of the icemist was bustling with different activities as werewolves went about their daily lives while humans were being used as slaves, some having colats to their necks accompanying werewolves from rich families.

Sorayah heart was filled with pain but then she pushed it aside focusing on the matter at hand hence she continued with her acting.

Soon, they reached an old, ivy-covered inn near the edge of the bustling trade district. Liam dropped his wheelbarrow beside the entrance as Dimitri swiftly bent down and lifted Sorayah into his arms.

The sudden movement startled her. Her breath caught in her throat, but she dared not question it, only tightened her grip around his neck and kept wailing.

Dimitri kicked the inn door open and marched inside, heading straight for the front desk. The interior was warm and dimly lit, filled with the scent of spices and old wood. A few patrons turned their heads, eyes widening as they took in the sight of the screaming, heavily pregnant woman.

The secretary, a young woman with dark raven hair pulled into a tight braid, stood up at once, her face paling with concern. "Have you called for a doctor?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Can she hold on? I’m afraid it’s going to take a while for the doctor to reach here."

"Yes. My brother is on his way with one," Dimitri replied briskly, his voice tight with urgency.

The woman quickly handed him a key after receiving his payment, and he scribbled a brief note with a description of Liam before rushing up the stairs with Sorayah still in his arms.

Inside the room, he gently laid her down on the bed. Sorayah continued her cries, curling slightly on the mattress, her hands clutching her faux belly.

Before she could gather her thoughts, the curtains at the far end of the room shifted.

A woman stepped out from behind them.

She was striking, her hair a cascade of fiery red, pinned up with elegant golden hairpins shaped like flames. She wore a deep purple gown that hugged her lithe form, making her look like a mystical figure carved from legend. Yet her expression was cold, her gaze sharp and unreadable, like a goddess of fire and ice.

"Who...?" Sorayah’s breath hitched. Her eyes widened at the unexpected appearance. Her heart skipped a beat. She didn’t recognize the woman, but there was something daunting about her presence.

"Greetings, Your Highness," the woman said softly, bowing low as she sank to her knees before Dimitri. As she moved, the front of her gown slipped slightly, revealing a tiny infant wrapped against her chest, fast asleep. The child looked as though it had just been born, its skin still bearing the pinkish hue of a newborn.

"Oh my goodness," Sorayah gasped, her eyes widening further. A small, involuntary smile crept onto her lips despite the chaos. The baby was beautiful...peaceful.

"Get it done," Dimitri ordered, his voice flat and emotionless, a stark contrast to the panic he had shown moments ago.

The red-haired woman rose gracefully to her feet and stepped closer to Sorayah.

"Lie down properly on the bed. You need to act the part, you came in screaming in labor, and there are eyes watching. You cannot leave this room without a baby in your arms," she said in a crisp, commanding tone, handing the sleeping infant over to Dimitri.

Sorayah gaped, her mind spinning. "What?!" she exclaimed in disbelief, but before she could utter another word, the woman gently but firmly pushed her back onto the bed.

There was no time to argue. The woman moved with practiced speed, setting down a bowl filled with a dark red liquid, likely dyed herbal paste and towels already soaked in it. Steam curled from a pot of boiling water in the corner, and nearby lay instruments typically used in childbirth.

Everything was prepared.

They planned all of this, Sorayah thought, her pulse racing as she swallowed hard. I’m not just pretending to be pregnant but I’m actually expected to give birth now?

"Push!" the red-haired woman shouted with sudden intensity.

Sorayah screamed leaving whatever questions she has for later. She screamed louder than before, her voice cracking under the strain. Her throat ached, but she kept going, writhing on the bed as if she were in true agony.

Meanwhile, Dimitri stood with his back to them, the baby resting in a soft cloth on the nearby chair. He removed his mask and began securing another one to his face, his features slowly shifting into a new persona under its enchantment.

"Push!!" the woman yelled again. She pressed the soaked towels to Sorayah’s clothing, staining it with the red liquid. She splashed water on her face to simulate sweat and leaned in close, her expression unchanging, relentless.

Finally, she turned to the infant, unwrapping the layers to reveal a small, healthy baby boy.

Without hesitation, she struck the newborn lightly on the bottom.

A moment passed in silence.

Then, the child let out a wail, sharp and clear, filling the room with its powerful cry.