She had planned everything meticulously. The moment Sesshomaru had set off on a hunt, vanishing into the darkness with his usual silent grace, she had gathered what little she could carry. No servants, no attendants—just her and the faint life fluttering within her womb. Her hands instinctively pressed against her abdomen, her heartbeat quickening.

He couldn’t know.

A being like Sesshomaru, powerful beyond comprehension, had no need for emotional entanglements. She had seen it in his golden eyes—the cold detachment, the way he observed the world as if nothing could touch him. He was not human, not bound by their sentimentality, their fragile emotions. And yet, she had allowed herself to fall into his orbit, to believe that perhaps, for a moment, she was something more to him than just another fleeting part of his journey.

But a child? A half-demon child? That was something he would never accept.

But even as she fled, she knew a terrible truth—

There was no escaping Sesshomaru.

The moment the thought crossed her mind, the air around her shifted. A pulse of youki—ancient, overwhelming—rippled through the forest, making the trees shudder in response. Her breath caught in her throat. No. It was too soon. He wasn’t supposed to be back yet.

The temperature seemed to drop, the once-distant night creatures falling into an eerie silence. She turned sharply, eyes darting through the thick shadows, searching, praying she was wrong.

"Foolish." The word was quiet, yet it carried through the air like a death sentence.

She gasped as his clawed hand wrapped around her wrist, firm but not painful, his touch colder than she remembered. He loomed over her, close enough that she could see the way his silver lashes framed his piercing eyes, the slight flare of his nostrils as he took in her scent—

And there it was.

Realization dawned in his gaze, slow and calculated, as his attention flickered down to her abdomen. "You carry my child."

It wasn’t a question.