The Weight of Two Pink Lines

The scent of damp earth, wild freesia, and crushed mint always meant safety. Penelope pulled her faded wool shawl tighter around her shoulders, her worn boots making no sound against the thick carpet of pine needles. The forest at the western edge of the Eclipsed Haven territory was forbidden to low-ranking orphans like her, but tonight, she didn't care about the pack laws.

A sharp, electric spark shivered across her skin—the unmistakable pull of the fated mate bond.

"You're late, little wolf."

The low, rumbling voice vibrated straight through Penelope’s chest. She looked up as a massive silhouette stepped out from the shadow of an ancient, weeping willow tree. Travis. The future Alpha King stood over a head taller than her, his broad shoulders easily blocking out the moonlight. His sharp, aristocratic jawline was set, but the moment his piercing silver eyes locked onto her, the coldness in them completely melted.

Before she could speak, Travis closed the distance between them in two large strides. His large, calloused hands caught her waist, lifting her effortlessly off the ground. Penelope gasped, her hands instinctively flying to his chest, feeling the heavy, rapid thumping of his heart beneath his leather jacket.

"I had to slip past the border guards," Penelope whispered, her breath fogging in the crisp night air as he set her down, keeping her pressed flush against his warm chest. "If your father finds out you're sneaking away to see a penniless rogue the night before your ascension..."

"Let him find out," Travis growled softly, burying his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent of rain and sweet freesia until his inner wolf purred. "Let the whole council see. In less than twenty-four hours, I take the throne. My father’s rules won't mean a damn thing anymore."

He pulled back just enough to look down into her deep indigo eyes. Slowly, with terrifying gentleness, his thumb traced her lower lip. Travis reached into his pocket and pulled out a delicate, glittering silver chain. Hanging from it was a raw, milky moonstone pendant that pulsed with a faint, mystical glow.

"Turn around," he murmured.

Penelope obeyed, lifting her long, silky silver hair out of the way. She felt the cool metal settle against her collarbone, followed immediately by the searing heat of Travis’s lips pressing a soft kiss against the bare skin of her shoulder—right over the spot where her future Luna mark would go.

"Look at the back," Travis whispered, his arms wrapping around her waist from behind, anchoring her to him.

Penelope lifted the heavy pendant with trembling fingers, turning it over in the moonlight. Engraved deep into the polished silver were two elegant, intertwined letters: PT.

"Penelope and Travis," she breathed, her heart swelling so painfully she felt like she might cry.

"It means whatever happens, you belong to me, and I belong to you," Travis swore, his voice thick with a fierce, unbreakable possessiveness. "My father is pushing for a political match with Alishia’s family to secure their northern ports. He wants their money. But I don't care about assets, Penelope. The moment I am crowned Alpha King tomorrow, I am announcing you as my only Luna. This necklace is my vow to you. Do you trust me?"

Penelope turned in his arms, looking up into his glowing silver eyes—the eyes of a man who ruled with iron but loved her with pure devotion. "With my life, Travis."

They stayed beneath the willow tree for hours, wrapped in each other's heat, whispering dreams of a future pack where background didn't matter. By the time Penelope sneaked back into the small, run-down wooden cottage she shared with her identical twin sister, the sun was just beginning to peek through the fog.

The cottage was silent. Shenon was exactly where she always was—buried beneath a mountain of thick blankets, her silver-rimmed glasses sliding down her nose as she slept with a heavy textbook still open on her chest.

Penelope smiled softly, walking toward the tiny, freezing bathroom to wash the scent of the forest from her skin. But as she stepped onto the cold linoleum floor, a sudden, violent wave of nausea hit her like a physical blow.

She gripped the edge of the sink, coughing dryly as her stomach twisted into a tight, agonizing knot. The dizziness made the room spin. Penelope leaned heavily against the porcelain, waiting for the sickness to pass, but a strange, deep instinct inside her wolf spirit flared to life.

With shaking hands, she reached into the back of the medicine cabinet, pulling out a small, plastic test she had secretly bought from a human pharmacy weeks ago, thinking her irregular cycles were just stress.

Ten agonizing minutes passed in absolute silence. The only sound in the cottage was the steady, rhythmic ticking of the old wall clock.

Penelope sat on the closed toilet lid, her fingers gripping the plastic so tightly her knuckles turned white. Finally, she forced her eyes down to look at the tiny window.

Two vibrant, dark pink lines stared back at her.

Penelope’s breath completely hitched in her throat, her entire body freezing into ice. She wasn't just a poor, hidden orphan anymore. She was carrying the unborn child of the future Alpha King—on the very morning of his coronation.