Running Away with Alpha's Baby Bump

The forest was alive with whispers that night.Branches clawed at my arms as I pushed through the underbrush, lungs burning with the effort of running while my belly pulled heavy beneath my cloak. Five months. I was five months into carrying the one secret the Blackmoon Pack could never know.The Alpha’s heir.My child.Kael’s child.I shouldn’t have let it happen. I’d told myself that a single night could be forgotten, that the fire in his eyes, the rough tenderness of his touch, was nothing more than weakness I’d buried deep. But when his mark had grazed my skin, when his mouth had claimed mine, I had known the truth. We weren’t weakness. We were ruin.And now ruin grew inside me.The cold autumn wind cut through the trees, scattering brittle leaves in swirls around my boots. Every sound made me flinch. Every crack of a twig had me clutching my cloak tighter around the small swell of my stomach. The pack’s hunters were out tonight, I could feel them. Kael’s wolves never rested, not

( Aria's POV ) The silence in the cottage pressed against my skin like a second layer of flesh. Kael’s presence filled the room as if the walls themselves bent toward him, trembling in submission. I hated that I still felt it too, that pull, that ache beneath my ribs. His scent, sharp and masculine, mixed with the pine smoke clinging to the rafters. It was like being swallowed whole by memories I’d spent five months trying to burn away. And still, he looked at me not as a stranger, not as an Alpha, but as if nothing had changed. As if the bond between us hadn’t fractured in the cruel light of dawn. Except something had changed. I pressed my arms tighter around my belly, fingers splaying protectively over the life that had tethered me to this world. He was the first to speak. You should have told me. The words were low, calm, but a storm lurked beneath. The control was worse than if he had shouted. Kael Donovan rarely needed to raise his voice, his authority dripped like bl

( Aria's POV ) The morning began like any other, mundane, ordinary, almost fragile in its simplicity. My coffee was too bitter, the kind that scraped the back of my throat and left me wrinkling my nose. The old refrigerator hummed in its familiar off, beat rhythm, and the faint thump from inside my belly reminded me I was never truly alone. My baby, five months along, rolled lazily, pressing a quiet rhythm against me. I told myself it would be a normal day, the kind of day I could bury myself in chores and routine, pretending the blood running through me wasn’t rewriting my life from the inside out. But Alpha blood doesn’t listen to prayers or wishes. It has its own plans. The diner was still half-asleep when I arrived, the neon OPEN sign buzzing faintly, the smell of yesterday’s grease clinging to the walls. I tied my apron at the waist, letting the familiar ritual ground me. Work meant noise, people, distraction. Work meant normal. The bell over the door jingled just as I was

( Kael's POV ) The wind carried whispers long before Kael’s scouts returned. It wound through the trees at night, carrying scents half-familiar, almost too faint to trust. His wolf prowled restlessly beneath his skin, nose lifted, ears pricked, certain they belonged to her. But Kael knew better than to trust instincts alone. Instincts made fools of Alphas. Facts, evidence, those kept packs alive. So he sent his spies into the human towns, men who moved like shadows and came back with fragments of stories. A waitress too fast to be believed. A cracked counter no one could explain. A stranger knocked unconscious in an alley who swore his attacker was “barely human.” Each rumor was tinder, feeding the fire already blazing in Kael’s chest. She’s here. By the third night, Elias cornered him in the war room, maps spread across the long oak table. “You’re chasing phantoms,” Elias said bluntly. Kael’s jaw tightened. “Not phantoms. Her.” Elias slammed his palm on the table,

( Aria's POV ) The storm hadn’t broken in days. Rain slicked the streets, painted the world in shadows and silver, and left everything smelling of damp earth. I told myself the weather explained the tension crawling under my skin. But it wasn’t the rain. It was something else, something older, darker, inevitable. I wiped down the diner counter for the third time though it was already spotless. My hands wouldn’t stop moving. My body wouldn’t stop listening. Every scrape of a fork, every squeak of a shoe against linoleum made me jump. My senses had sharpened again, unbearably so. I could hear the heartbeat of the cook in the kitchen, steady and strong. I could smell the coffee beans, sharp and bitter even from the storeroom. And outside, beyond the glass door, something lingered. A trace of fur and soil. A scent I shouldn’t know, but did. “You okay, hon?” Sarah asked, pausing as she balanced a tray of plates. “You’ve been jittery all week.” “I’m fine,” I lied quickly, too quickl