PREGNANT FOR THE ALPHA I NEVER MET

MILLIE-ROSE’S POV There was a knot in my stomach. A gnawing, ominous anxiety. The more I scrolled through the comments, the tighter it pulled. I was almost gasping in the confinement of my car, the tinted windows doing nothing to stop the feeling of claustrophobia creeping up my spine. “Wow, congratulations to her.” “She's a pretty actress. I've been a fan of hers since she was little. It's so great seeing her getting married.” “But isn't she too young? Congratulations anyway.” I kept scrolling, searching for the comment that had triggered this unease but nothing stood out. They were all the usual suspects. Well-wishers. Haters. Keyboard warriors dissecting every inch of my public life like they paid rent in it. With a frustrated sigh, I locked my phone and dropped it into my purse like it had personally offended me. I leaned back in the leather seat and took a deep breath. Maybe that would help. It didn’t. The knot stayed, unmoved and unbothered. What the hell was wr

MILLI-ROSE’S POV “What?” I blinked in confusion, my voice shaky. I was utterly lost by his words and low-key terrified by the fury laced in them. “It’s not her, is it? It better not be,” he repeated, his deep growl slicing through the room. His eyes were glowing…yes, actually glowing and the intensity in them chilled my blood. Involuntarily, I took several steps back, away from the storm brewing in his body. Who the hell is this man? 
Why does he look like he just crawled out of some supernatural mafia fantasy? Whatever or whoever—he was, I didn’t want to know. I couldn’t afford to be curious, not even a little. Men like him were to be admired from afar. Not touched. Not approached. Definitely not… involved with. Those beastly eyes? They’d burn every ounce of peace out of your life. Unapologetically. Besides, I had enough problems right now. “Please, excuse me,” I said stiffly, trying to slip past him. More like run past him. But a strong, calloused hand grabbed

BRAHAM’S POV“Millie-Rose…”I heard myself murmur her name as I stirred from unconsciousness. My voice was hoarse, cracked, like I’d clawed it out of a dream I didn’t want to leave.I touched her side of the bed and she wasn’t there, the feeling of emptiness filled me with fear and I immediately opened my eyes to see she really wasn’t there.Then it hit me.She was gone.First things first, I was a fucking idiot.I blinked once. Twice. The bed beside me was cold. Empty.A deep, soul-cringing humiliation festered in my chest. My stomach turned. My skin itched with regret. Rage.What the hell had I done?Why did I bring her to a hotel?Why did I make love to her like a man possessed…like I was drunk on her, desperate for her?Oh, that’s right. Because I was.Drunk as shit. Out of my goddamn mind.But booze wasn’t the only reason. No, that’d be too convenient.I wanted her.She wasn’t just a warm body to fuck and forget. She was a storm I had willingly walked into… no raincoat, no armor.

ALPHA BRAHAM’S POVIn my relentless search for the human woman named Millie-Rose Harvey, I found myself standing in the very building she once called home… the agency her mother built with blood, sweat, and sleepless nights. The same agency Millie poured her youth, talent, and soul into, only to be crucified by it the moment things got messy.I didn’t even know whether to refer to the agency in past or present tense anymore. Did it still count as hers if the vultures inside were already circling, ready to erase her name like she was some minor misstep in their perfect branding?I’d gathered everything I could about her in just a few hours; background checks, hospital files, social timelines, history of collaborations, her mother’s legacy. And yet, none of that compared to the fire in my chest that burned the more I imagined her alone out there, hunted.I walked past a flood of paparazzi, reporters, influencers, and what could only be described as a swarm of bitter fans turned blood

Millie-Rose POV The first thing I did the moment the bus lurched forward was toss my phone out the window. Alpha Braham’s possessive words echoed loudly in my mind, and I wasn’t willing to risk him tracking me down. The phone was a connection to the life I was fleeing, and if I wanted distance…real distance, I had to sever every trace.I lost all sense of time almost immediately. Hours blurred into each other, melting into one long, shapeless stretch of motion. Faces changed, landscapes shifted, and yet the exhaustion clung to me like a second skin. There was no telling how long I’d been on the road; if someone had asked me to bet my life on it, I would have failed. All I knew was movement; bus to bus, then train after train, each ride longer and more draining than the last.If I had to guess, I must have boarded at least six different buses and a handful of trains. The shortest ride was easily six hours long. Six hours of rattling windows, stiff unforgiving seats, aching legs, and