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CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FIVE: THE DREAM.
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2026-01-10 01:13:08
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THE PREGNANT SHE WOLF Chapter 177: Teeth in the Dark
SANDRA’S POV Rain hammered the tin roof of the abandoned sawmill as though someone above wanted to tear straight through. I stood under the narrow overhang, soaked through, watching water cascade off the eaves in thick silver ropes. My boots carried heavy layers of red clay from the logging road, my hair clung wet and cold to my neck, and the stolen cloak hung sodden across my shoulders, dripping without mercy.I welcomed the discomfort. It kept my mind clear and my edges sharp.The scout had tracked him down yesterday, a twitchy half-breed named Cal who stank of cheap whiskey and barely concealed terror. He took my last silver coin along with a promise I never meant to keep, then told me Darius was hiding here alone. No crew, no fires after dark, only a man drinking himself numb in the hope of forgetting what he had helped set in motion.Exactly how I wanted him: raw, unsteady, and starving for something he could no longer name.I pushed the warped door open with my shoulder. The hi
THE PREGNANT SHE WOLF Chapter 176: The Weight of Trust
SHARON’S POVI woke to the pale gray light that arrives just before true dawn, when shadows still feel soft and temporary. The bed was empty beside me, but the sheets held Morris’s warmth. I pressed my palm to the spot where he had slept, then rolled onto my back and stared up at the exposed ceiling beams. The baby moved inside me, slow and heavy, a quiet reminder that life had kept going even after Sandra vanished from our borders.No nightmares had come last night. No flames licking at walls. No chains clanking in the dark. No sister’s voice whispering promises of revenge. Just deep, unbroken sleep. The first I’d had in months.I sat up slowly. The floorboards felt cool under my bare feet. I reached for Morris’s old navy robe, slipped it on over my nightgown, and tied it loosely around my middle. The sleeves swallowed my hands. Downstairs, a single kitchen lamp glowed, spilling warm yellow across the counters. Morris stood at the sink rinsing mugs, his back to me, shoulders loose in
THE PREGNANT SHE WOLF Chapter 175: The Quiet in Between the Storm
SHARON’S POV The second morning after the summit felt strangely soft, like stepping into someone else's peaceful dream. Sunlight streamed through the bedroom window in wide, warm bands across the quilt. It settled over my legs and the gentle curve of my belly. I stayed on my side for a while, one hand resting where the baby moved in slow, lazy kicks, as though it were waking up slowly too. Morris was already downstairs. I could hear the quiet clink of a spoon against a mug, the soft hiss of the kettle heating water. That was an ordinary and comforting sound, the kind I had stopped expecting to hear again after the night everything nearly burned.I let the stillness wrap around me a little longer. There were no echoes of shouts in the halls, no rattle of chains, and no sister glaring at me with eyes that promised violence. Just sunlight warming the sheets, the faint smell of coffee rising from below, and the steady rhythm of my own breathing.When I finally pushed back the covers and
THE PREGNANT SHE WOLF Chapter 174: Night Without End
MORRIS’S POV Moonlight cut through the narrow gap between the heavy velvet curtains and fell across the quilt in a single, unyielding stripe, like a blade laid flat and waiting. I stared at it until my eyes ached, willing the silver line to creep, to blur, to prove the night was still crawling forward. It refused. The room held its breath, Sharon’s slow, even breathing beside me, the faint groan of old timbers settling deeper into the earth, the far-off hoot of an owl that carried too much weight to be casual. Every sound felt deliberate, as though the house itself were listening.But sleep wouldn’t come. Every time my eyelids dropped, Sandra was there, teeth bared in that feral, laughing snarl from the summit hall. The way her voice cracked on Sharon’s name, not in grief but in promise. The absolute conviction in her eyes as the chains yanked her backward: this isn’t the end, it’s only intermission. I could still see the precise angle of her head when she spat the words “sister” l
THE PREGNANT SHE WOLF Chapter 173: The Road That Leads Nowhere
SANDRA’S POVThe wagon reeked of moldering hay, axle grease, and the sharp, metallic tang of old blood someone had tried and failed to scrub away. Underneath it all was me: three days of unwashed skin, fear-sweat turned sour, and the faint coppery bite of split lips that never quite stopped bleeding. Every rut in the road drove the iron cuffs deeper into my wrists. The metal had warmed to body temperature by now, but it still felt like a living thing, greedy, patient, chewing.They hadn’t bothered blindfolding me. No hood, no sack over the head. That was deliberate. The High Alpha wanted me to memorize every mile of this exile: every twisted pine, every smear of mud, every fading glimpse of the jagged skyline that used to mean home. Jordan Pack receded like a wound slowly scabbing over. I could still taste the throne on the back of my tongue, iron and salt and the ghost of power I’d almost swallowed whole.Three days. Three nights chained to the bench like cargo. The guards barely spo
THE PREGNANT SHE WOLF Chapter 172: The Last Shadow
SHARON’S POVJordan Pack council chamber smelled exactly the way I remembered: cedar oil, old parchment, beeswax candles, and the faint metallic bite of wolf anger held barely in check. I stepped through the tall double doors with Morris at my side, his hand rested low on my back, it was not possessive, it was just there, steady. The same hand that had held me together when I screamed for dead children who weren’t dead. The same hand that would steady me now.The long table stretched down the center of the room. Twenty-three elders were already seated. Their faces I hadn’t seen in years, some looked older, while some looked exactly the same. All of them watched me walk the length of the aisle like I was a ghost wearing someone else’s skin.Sandra sat at the far end in chains. She had iron cuffs on wrists and ankles. Her black gown was replaced with plain gray prisoner linen. Her hair was loose and tangled. And her eyes were red-rimmed but burning. When she saw me she jerked against th
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