My Wild Pet (Whispers from the Imperial Cage #2)

Chapter 71

CHAPTER 71

Gabriel

I rub the stiff skin at my throat, wincing at the raw feel where the collar used to sit. It’s gone now, really gone. My neck feels too light, naked. For the past twelve years, that band of metal has been part of me. I glance down at it resting on a nearby tray, faintly reflecting the harsh lights overhead. Even powerless, it fills me with a blend of fear and nostalgia.

I think I was expecting freedom to come crashing over me like some glorious tidal wave—a flood of relief, unstoppable and pure. Instead, it’s quieter, more confusing and laced with guilt. I catch myself almost missing the collar’s weight around my neck, and the thought disgusts me. They did this to me, Aefre and Kaelin. They hammered all traces of normal life out of me until I barely remembered how to be a human man and not a human pet.

I shake myself out of my thoughts when Briar asks me a question.

“Are you all right?”

I shrug, forcing a tight smile. She knows I’m not.

I watch as the doctor checks a small console with lines of Imperial script scrolling down it wondering when we’ll be free to leave the medical bay. She says she just wants to check our vitals, to make sure there wasn’t a poison that was released into our systems when we got too far away from our masters. I can’t imagine Aefre or Kaelin using that feature. They could be brutal but as far as I know they never killed a human.

The device glows faintly, displaying our vitals and something else. I can’t quite follow the words, but I do recognize a single term the doctor mumbles under her breath, “Pregnant.”

I snap my gaze to Briar. She’s gone pale, her lips parted as though she’s about to speak but can’t find the words.

The doctor glances between Briar and me, obviously realizing she’s dropped a bombshell. “The condition is early. But definitely pregnant.”

My heart roars in my ears. That single word echoes. Pregnant. She doesn’t look pregnant.

“That must be a mistake,” I say. The Luminous Arc’s medical team presumably tracked everything, didn’t they? If she’d tested positive, they’d have locked her down. Imperial breeders don’t let things happen by accident. This must be an error. Some glitch in the system or a short-circuit from the collar’s removal.

But then, I look at Briar. Her eyes are huge, alarm flashing behind them. She doesn’t look shocked, she looks guilty.

A slow, icy dread seeps through me. “Briar…”

She flinches like I might strike her. I’d never do that— never . But her reaction alone sends me over the edge.

First, it’s not a mistake.

Second, she’s known and didn’t tell me.

I open my mouth to demand answers, but the words stick in my throat.

“Maybe eight weeks,” the doctor tells us like background noise.

Two months. The time frame lines up uncomfortably well with the… moments we had. My heart hammers, a dull roar thundering in my ears. I search Briar’s face, trying to find the smallest trace of reassurance, It’s yours, Gabriel, everything’s fine , but I only see fear. Or is it shame? Why didn’t she tell me?

A single question tears its way out with desperation. I turn to the doctor, trying not to sound panicked and ask, “Do you know who the father is?”

The words hang in the air like a thunderclap.

The doctor stands there, face unreadable, while Briar squeezes her eyes shut, tears brimming. And I wonder if I’ll be forever stuck with Aefre. His child.