Chapter 2: Enough

I didn’t stay long at Clara’s birthday party.

The music pulsed too loudly against my temples, the laughter felt sharpened like claws, and every time someone glanced my way, their eyes slid off again, as though looking too long at the pregnant human Luna might stain them.

Rowan noticed me swaying near the dessert table, cheeks flushed from the heat and the ache in my lower back, and quietly arranged for the driver to take me home.

“You look tired,” he said, not unkindly, but without meeting my eyes for more than a second. “Get some rest.”

I was tired.

Tired of watching an entire room treat Clara like she was spun from moonlight and glass, while they stepped over me without breaking stride.

The car ride back was silent except for the low hum of the engine and the occasional crackle of the driver’s radio.

When we pulled up to the house, the big cedar-and-stone place Rowan and I had walked through together three summers ago, pointing at empty rooms and dreaming aloud about cribs and tiny boots lined up by the door, I felt the familiar pang of something already lost.

Inside, everything was quiet.

Too quiet. The kind of quiet that pressed against my eardrums.

I lowered myself onto the wide leather couch in the living room, one hand automatically cradling the underside of my belly. The report from Dr. Harlan was still folded inside my purse. I pulled it out again, smoothed the creases with shaking fingers, and read the same cold phrases for the tenth time that day.

Abnormal maternal serum markers.

Possible developmental anomalies.

Recommendation: consider termination to minimize risk to the Luna and the pack.

I let the paper fall onto my lap and pressed both palms flat against the taut skin of my stomach.

“You’re perfect,” I whispered to the little life inside me. “I know you are. I’ve felt every kick, every roll. You’re strong. You’re ours.”

A tiny foot pushed firmly against my right hand as though in answer.

I stayed like that until the grandfather clock in the hall struck one.

The front door opened with a soft click.

Heavy footsteps crossed the foyer. I heard the familiar sound of Rowan kicking off his boots, the tired exhale he always made when the day had worn him thin.

He stepped into the living room and stopped when he saw me still sitting there, lamplight pooling around me like spilled milk.

“You’re still up?” Surprise softened his voice for a moment.

I didn’t answer with words.

I simply held out the report.

He crossed the room in three strides, took the paper, and scanned it quickly. His jaw tightened line by line. When he reached the recommendation at the bottom, he closed his eyes and pressed two fingers against his temple.

“I’ll call Harlan,” he said.

It was well past midnight, but pack doctors never refused the Alpha.

Rowan’s gaze unfocused. The telltale glaze of a mind-link slid over his eyes. Thirty seconds later, he blinked back into the room.

His voice came out flat, stripped of emotion.

“We should terminate.”

The words landed like a slap I hadn’t braced for.

“What?” I stared up at him, searching for some crack in the mask, some sign he hadn’t actually meant it.

“It’s the safest choice.” He spoke as though reciting from a training manual. “A pup with developmental issues… it would weaken the pack. It would weaken both of us. People already talk because you’re human. If the heir is…”

He stopped himself, but the unspoken word hung between us anyway.

Broken.

“No.” My voice trembled, but I forced it steady. “This is only one abnormal result. Every other scan has been perfect. I’ve never felt stronger in my life, not since before I even knew I was pregnant. My reflexes are sharper, my hearing keener. The baby is healthy. I know it.”

Rowan looked exhausted, shadows carved deep beneath his eyes.

“Ava, be reasonable. I’ve had a long day. Clara needed me, then there was border patrol, then the party…”

“So our child is just another task on your list?” The question came out sharper than I intended.

He flinched. “That’s not fair.”

“Nothing about this is fair.”

Tears burned behind my eyes, hot and furious, but I refused to let them fall. Not in front of him.

“If you want to end this pregnancy,” I said slowly, “then we’re done. I’ll keep my child with or without you. Reject me. Divorce me. Sign whatever papers you need to sign. But I am not giving up my baby.”

He stared at me as though seeing a stranger wearing my face.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

His eyes glazed again, another mind-link.

When awareness snapped back, his expression had hardened into something cold and final.

“Clara fainted. I have to go.”

He turned on his heel and walked out without another word. The front door closed with a quiet, definitive click.

I sat motionless on the couch until the first gray light of dawn seeped through the curtains. The house felt bigger and colder than it ever had before. Every creak of the floorboards sounded like accusation.

The baby kicked again, insistent, alive.

I placed both hands over the spot and whispered, “We’re going to be okay. I promise.”

The next morning, I went back to the clinic alone.

Dr. Harlan was waiting. He spoke gently, explaining probabilities, risks, timelines.

The numbers were still abnormal. Nothing had magically corrected itself overnight.

“We need a decision soon,” he said. “Delaying makes any procedure significantly more dangerous for you.”

As I stood to leave, he touched my elbow lightly.

“Should I inform the former Alpha and Luna Elena? They’ve always been… very invested in the future heir.”

My stomach plummeted.

Elena already viewed me as the human who had stolen her son from a proper match. If she learned about the abnormal markers, she would sharpen her claws and push Rowan until he bent.

“No,” I said too quickly. “Not yet. I’ll speak to Rowan first.”

Dr. Harlan nodded, though worry lingered in his eyes.

When I returned home, the house was full of voices and the smell of coffee and fresh bread. Rowan’s parents, the entire Beta family, including Clara, were gathered in the living room, laughing as though it were a holiday.

Elena saw me first. Her gaze swept over my simple maternity dress, lips pursing.

“Still dressing like a common human, I see,” she announced loudly enough for the whole room to hear. “This house could use a real Luna’s touch.”

Clara smiled sweetly from her place beside Rowan on the sofa.

“Luna Elena, please,” she said softly. “Ava does her best.”

I understand what she meant. I knew that tone well.

I stood in the doorway, one hand resting on my belly, feeling the baby shift beneath my palm.

And something inside me finally cracked.