MasukAlara’s POVThe wind changed three days before anyone said a word.It wasn’t the cold I had grown used to the way winter lingered stubbornly over Ronan’s lands. It was something sharper, almost metallic, as if the air itself carried a warning. Every breath felt heavier, charged, pressing against my lungs in a way that made Astrid stir uneasily beneath my ribs.‘Something hunts,’ Astrid murmured for the third time that morning.I stood by the narrow window of my chamber, one hand braced against the sill, the other instinctively cradling my belly. The twins shifted faintly in response to my unease — gentle, reassuring movements that should have soothed me. But they didn’t.Below, the pack moved with a precision that hadn’t been there before. Warriors no longer laughed during patrol rotations. Blades were sharpened twice instead of once. Even the sentries on the outer wall stood stiffer, eyes scanning the treeline as if expecting it to lunge at them.Something was wrong.And everyone kne
Alara’s POVThe first thing that went wrong was my breath.It stuttered in my chest like it had forgotten its rhythm — too shallow, too fast — until the world tilted sharply to the left. The training ground blurred, the earth rushing up too quickly, and Astrid’s warning tore through my skull like a scream.Alara — stop —I didn’t get the chance.Darkness swallowed me whole.*******I came back to sound before sensation.Voices — urgent, overlapping. Boots pounding against stone. A familiar, rough voice cutting through it all like a blade.“Move.”Ronan.My eyelids fluttered, heavy as if weighed down by iron. My body felt… wrong. Too warm. Too cold. Too much of everything at once. My hand twitched instinctively toward my belly, panic flaring before my mind could catch up.The twins.Astrid was frantic inside me, pacing, snarling.‘They’re frightened. They’re pulling—too hard—’“Alara,” Ronan’s voice was suddenly closer, rougher. “Easy. Don’t move.”I tried to speak. Nothing came out bu
Alara’s POVWar did not announce itself with trumpets or blood.It crept in quietly — through tightened patrol routes, sharpened weapons, and the way the Midnight Pack stopped laughing so easily.I noticed it first at dawn.The training grounds, once lively but measured, had transformed overnight. Warriors filled the field in disciplined rows, sweat already slicking their skin despite the early hour. The clang of steel rang sharper, faster. Commands were barked without pause. Ronan stood at the center of it all, his presence heavy, unyielding — an Alpha preparing not for defense, but for impact.Astrid stirred uneasily within me.‘He’s bracing for something big,’ she murmured. ‘Not a raid. A siege.’The word settled in my chest like a stone.I wrapped my cloak tighter around myself and descended the steps slowly, every sense attuned to the tension humming through the pack. Wolves bowed their heads as I passed — not in fear, not in reverence alone — but in acknowledgment. As if they’d
Alara’s POVI first sensed the shift before I heard the words.The Midnight Pack had a rhythm now — one I had learned to recognize even in my sleep. Footsteps along the corridors, the cadence of guards changing shifts, the quiet hum of wards layered into stone and soil. But that morning, the rhythm faltered. Ronan’s aura changed.It pressed outward from his office like a tightening storm, restrained but unmistakable. Astrid stirred uneasily inside me, her hackles rising.‘Something is wrong,’ she murmured.I rested a hand over my belly, steadying myself, and followed the pull of unease down the corridor.I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.But the voices carried.“…this is the third summons in two weeks.”“That makes five Alphas now.”“They’re calling it an emergency council.”I slowed my steps, my heart beginning to thud.Ronan’s voice came next — low, controlled, dangerous in its calm. “They can call it whatever they want. I’m not going.”A sharp inhale answered him. His Beta. “You can’t s
Alara’s POVThe next day, Kira insisted on the picnic as if it were a mission of utmost importance.She had appeared outside my room that morning with a basket far too large for three people, her auburn curls tied back, eyes bright with barely restrained excitement. “Fresh air,” she’d declared. “Sunlight. And absolutely no brooding allowed.”Ronan had sighed the long-suffering sigh of an older brother who already knew resistance was futile.And so, by late afternoon, the three of us had made our way beyond the inner paths of the Midnight Pack, toward a quiet meadow tucked between towering pines and a slow-moving stream. The air smelled clean there — green, alive, untouched by tension or bloodshed.Or so it seemed.Kira spread the blanket with exaggerated care, set down the basket, then straightened suddenly as if remembering something important.“Oh,” she said lightly. Too lightly. “I forgot the honey cakes. I’ll be right back.”Ronan frowned. “You did not forget the—”She was already
Alara’s POVMonths passed the way winter did — quietly and relentlessly, reshaping everything in their wake.I felt it in my body first in the form of a weight low in my belly which was no longer a secret ache but a visible truth. My hands drifted there often now, instinctively, in a protective way. The curve beneath my palms felt unreal some days, as though I might wake and find it gone. That it would turn out to be another dream, another illusion my life had perfected.But the twins were real. Their presence grounded me in ways nothing else could.My reflection changed with each passing week. The hollows in my cheeks filled. The constant exhaustion eased into something gentler, something warmer. There was a glow, others pointed it out before I could see it myself. A soft silver sheen beneath my skin, crescent energy no longer flaring wildly but settling into a steady rhythm that matched the lives growing inside me.Astrid noticed it first.‘You are stronger,’ she murmured one mornin







