I scrolled down, my fingers trembling. The article went on to describe them in sickening detail—their natural chemistry, the “timeless connection” between them. Every sentence slashed deeper into my chest like sharpened claws.
I let my phone slide from my hand onto the sofa, my chest aching as tightness wrapped around my ribs. I couldn’t draw a full breath.
But then, slowly, I rested my palm on my abdomen and inhaled deeply, eyes closing. The life growing within me deserved peace—not pain, not betrayal. My baby was a miracle in the chaos, a flicker of light I was determined to protect and love no matter what happened.
I made my way to the healer's clinic. As she glided a glowing stone gently across my belly, the soft, steady beat of my baby’s heart filled the quiet room.
“You’re carrying a strong Alpha pup,” she said with a gentle smile.
Alpha. My child might rise to lead one day—or maybe they'd simply live a life of freedom, without titles. But what I knew for sure was I didn’t want them growing up in a world full of lies and wounds like mine.