I yanked open my bedside chest and stared at the leftover herbs from my last conception cycle.
Could it be true? Were these laced with suppressants?
I sent word through the pack runners to have the herbs rushed to the nearest healer-den for testing.
Then I sat there, eyes fixed on the glowing marks, waiting for her next reply.
Maybe it was the evening hunt. The poster went quiet.
No matter how viciously pack members attacked her, she didn't respond.
I rested my hand on my swollen belly.
For this pup, I'd endured countless healer interventions. My feet were so swollen I could barely walk across my own chambers.
Because of one unverified mark-thread, I was supposed to—what? Seek moon-sanctioned termination at seven moons?
I couldn't. I wouldn't.
My mind buzzed with chaos, thoughts tangling into knots.
If I confronted Kael now—
Without evidence, he'd just accuse me of pregnancy-madness, the paranoia that sometimes gripped expecting she-wolves.
Then a new comment appeared.
"Stay jealous, she-wolves My intended just prepared me an entire fresh hunt. He slipped away from his Beta duties to share a meal with me. He doesn't have time for you bitter ones."