The silence of the forest wrapped around Aria like a shroud, broken only by the crunch of her boots on frost-hardened earth. Each step away from the pack house was a rejection of everything she once thought permanent—her mate, her rank, her home. But the real weight pressed lower, deeper. A secret that pulsed within her with every breath.
She paused beneath the boughs of an old cedar, her breath forming pale ghosts in the frigid air. Her hand drifted unconsciously to her lower stomach, fingers trembling. The realization had come quietly, like a whisper in her bones. A missed heat cycle. The sudden scent changes. The undeniable sense of life budding inside her, wild and furious and his.
Kael’s.
Her chest ached as she leaned against the tree. “This isn’t just mine,” she whispered. “This is his too.” A bitter laugh escaped her lips. “But he doesn’t deserve to know.”
The bond had been severed before the council like a blade to the soul, and with it, every dream of their future. She had begged him with her eyes—don’t do this, choose me—but Kael had looked past her, into the face of his resurrected first love.
She clenched her jaw. No. He had made his choice. And now she would make hers.
A rustle behind her sent her senses flaring. She straightened, hand inching toward the blade tucked in her boot. But it was only Zara, breathless, cheeks flushed from chasing her through the woods.
“You disappeared after the council meeting,” Zara panted, stepping closer. “I had to sneak past two patrols to follow you.”
“I needed air.”
Zara studied her face. “That’s not all you need.”
Aria said nothing.
Zara’s eyes dropped to Aria’s hand resting against her belly. “You’re not just heartbroken. You’re pregnant.”
The word pierced the night like a shout. Aria didn’t flinch. She didn’t deny it.
“I don’t know what to do,” she finally admitted, voice raw. “They think I’m nothing now. A discarded mate. And if they find out I’m carrying the Alpha’s child…”
Zara’s eyes hardened. “Then we don’t let them find out. Not until you’re ready.”
Aria looked at her, uncertain. “How do I hide something like this? How do I raise a child alone, in exile, with no rank, no allies—”
“You have me.” Zara’s voice was steady, fierce. “And we have time. He’ll suspect nothing. He’s too busy playing doting mate to the girl who rose from the dead.”
The words stung, but they also gave her clarity.
“He won’t take this from me,” Aria said, the wind catching in her hair. “Not this. He broke our bond, left me bleeding on the floor of the council chamber. But this baby is mine. And I’ll protect it with everything I have.”
Zara nodded. “We start tonight. There’s a witch in the far hills. One who helps women like us. We’ll leave before dawn.”
“Do you trust her?”
“I trust she hates the council more than she loves gold.”
That was enough.
Aria glanced toward the direction of the pack house, its windows glowing like distant embers. Somewhere in there, Kael was probably curled beside the woman he couldn’t let go. And here Aria stood, cold and alone… but not powerless.
She was no longer just the rejected mate.
She was the mother of the Alpha’s heir.
And that changed everything.
—
By the time the sky lightened into a dull gray, Aria and Zara had already crossed the river that marked the border of the Draven pack’s hunting grounds. Frost clung to their cloaks, and Aria’s limbs ached from the overnight trek, but she refused to stop.
Every mile between her and Kael’s domain felt like a layer of chains falling away.
They reached the edge of an ancient grove by midmorning. Mist hung low over the mossy ground, and the silence here was heavier, like the trees themselves were watching. Zara slowed.
“She lives here. No one comes unless they’re desperate.”
Aria looked around, pulse quickening. “I am.”
They walked in silence until they reached a weathered stone hut nestled between two gnarled oaks. Smoke curled from its chimney, and the air shimmered faintly—magic, old and bitter.
Zara stepped forward and knocked once. Then again. Then twice more, in a pattern that felt like a key.
The door creaked open.
A woman with silver hair and eyes like cracked glass peered out. Her gaze flicked to Aria’s belly, then her eyes.
“You’ve come to hide what was never meant to survive,” she said, voice like dry leaves. “Come in.”
Aria hesitated, but Zara gave her a nod.
Inside, the air was thick with herbs and something older—magic that hummed low and constant.
“You’re strong,” the witch murmured as she circled Aria. “But that won’t be enough.”
“I’m not here to beg for miracles,” Aria said, meeting her gaze. “Just protection. For the child.”
“And for you?”
Aria’s voice dropped. “I’ll handle me.”
The witch smiled. “So much fire, even when abandoned. The Alpha was a fool.”
“I don’t want his pity,” Aria snapped. “I want his silence.”
The witch raised a brow. “Then you’ll have it. I’ll mask your scent, bind your aura, shield the babe. No wolf will know. But power comes at a price.”
Aria reached into her cloak and pulled out the last of her gold. “This is all I have.”
“I said power,” the witch whispered, pushing the coins away. “Not trinkets.”
Aria’s pulse stuttered. “What do you want?”
The witch leaned close. “A promise. When the time comes… and the Alpha’s house begins to fall… you won’t stop it.”
Aria’s eyes didn’t waver. “I’ll light the match myself.”
