He kissed her, soft but agonized, eyes almost overflowing with something I couldn’t name. Then he signed again. “I’ve already chosen the names. The boy will be Draken. The girl will be Chanelle.”
I felt my chest collapse. My alpha. My mate. And yet everything I believed in, everything I trusted, was falling apart in front of me.
Why did love have to be this cruel?
Around this time last year, I found out I was pregnant. I thought maybe… maybe things would finally be ours.
Drake had been over the moon. He booked out the whole hot spring resort, told me we’d have the entire place to ourselves.
And then he picked up a phone. I could hear a girl crying on the other end, faint, but I could hear it. My heart twisted in a way I didn’t understand.
He kissed my belly, soft, warm, and whispered, “Wife, there’s an emergency at the pack. Just wait for me, okay? I’ll be back.”
I believed him. I waited. A whole day, a whole night, just sitting there, hoping, praying. But instead of Drake, there was an avalanche. Snow burying everything. And our child… our little wolf pup, gone. I got miscarriage.