By morning, the whispers had evolved into weapons.
They followed Aria like smoke—curling through the training fields, clinging to the food hall, trailing behind her steps like scent markers. Not shouted. Not even spoken aloud when she entered a room. But she heard them anyway.
“Did you see the way she walks, like she’s still Luna?”
“I heard she begged Draven to stay. Pathetic.”
“No ring, no bond, no name—just a belly full of scandal.”
Every laugh felt sharper. Every glance lingered too long. Even the way wolves stepped aside for her now felt more like avoidance than respect.
She kept her shoulders square and her chin up, just as her mother once taught her. But it wasn’t pride that fueled her now—it was fury.
Because in their minds, she was just a broken love story.
Not a survivor.
Not a threat.
Not a future.
Zara returned from the market that afternoon with her face tight and her temper barely leashed.
“They’re saying the baby isn’t Kael’s,” she spat, slamming the door of the cabin. “That you fabricated the pregnancy to gain sympathy. That you seduced a rogue to get your revenge.”
Aria didn’t flinch. “Of course they are.”
Zara rounded on her. “And you’re just going to let them?”
“What would you have me do?” Aria snapped. “Hold a council-wide blood draw and DNA test in the square? Parade myself like some wounded prize?”
Zara’s jaw clenched. “I would have you fight.”
“I am fighting,” Aria growled. “By waking up. By eating. By walking past them every godsdamned day like I belong here—because I do. And when the time comes, I’ll remind them who I am.”
Zara’s expression softened. “Then let me help.”
Aria nodded slowly. “We start tomorrow.”
The next day, Aria returned to the training field.
Not to observe. Not to be tolerated.
To spar.
She arrived in leggings and a fitted tunic, her golden-blonde hair pulled into a high braid, her storm-gray eyes narrowed with focus. She was nearly three months along, the curve of her belly visible but not inhibiting. And if it did? She didn’t let it show.
The warriors hesitated when they saw her.
“Thought Luna training ended when you lost the title,” one muttered.
“I didn’t lose it,” Aria said, stepping into the ring. “It was stolen.”
The circle went still.
Then, to everyone’s surprise, Milo stepped forward.
“I’ll spar her.”
Aria raised a brow. “You sure you want to do that?”
Milo grinned. “Always wanted to see how hard the golden girl hits.”
They circled each other under the gray sky, watched by a dozen pack members and twice as many whispers.
Aria didn’t wait.
She struck first—low and fast, sweeping his legs from beneath him. He hit the ground hard.
Someone gasped.
Milo laughed as he stood. “Alright then.”
They fought in quick, snapping movements—no claws, just fists and instincts. Aria ducked, twisted, landed a sharp elbow to his ribs. He spun and grabbed her arm, but she pivoted and knocked him back with a kick that startled even Zara.
By the end, they were both breathing hard. Neither had drawn blood.
Milo held up her hand. “Winner by hurricane force.”
Some of the crowd clapped. A few muttered. But no one laughed.
Not this time.
Later, while icing her knuckles in the cabin, Zara tossed her an apple.
“That was reckless.”
“That was necessary.”
Zara nodded. “They’ll think twice before sneering now.”
Aria bit into the fruit. “Let them think. Let them talk.”
“You’re not scared anymore.”
“I’m tired of hiding.”
She stood and walked to the window. Outside, a group of young she-wolves passed by, glancing at the cabin. One of them met Aria’s eyes—and didn’t look away.
She didn’t smile.
She didn’t sneer.
She just nodded once.
Respect. Or something like it.
Aria felt the corner of her mouth twitch.
The gossip didn’t stop overnight. But it changed shape.
The words shifted from mockery to curiosity. From scorn to speculation. And in the space between shame and silence, something else bloomed.
Recognition.
Not everyone bowed when she passed—but fewer turned away.
Some even whispered her name with something close to awe.
“Did you hear she trained with rogues?”
“I saw her spar Milo—he tapped out.”
“She’s still carrying Draven’s heir. She’s not afraid.”
And under it all, like a heartbeat…
“She might be stronger now than she ever was as Luna.”
That night, as Aria lay in bed, hand over her belly, she felt the baby shift for the first time.
Not a kick. Not a punch.
Just a flutter. Like wings brushing her from the inside.
She blinked into the darkness, heart catching.
“Did you feel that?” she whispered.
Zara, half-asleep in the other room, muttered, “What?”
Aria smiled softly. “Nothing.”
Because it wasn’t fear or shame that stirred in her now.
It was life.
It was strength.
It was proof.
