b127 /bbWhat’s /bbWith /bMara

Lucian

My feet barely touched the ground as I ran into the hospital lobby. People greeted me–I heard my bname/b, bfelt /bthe bows of respect–but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. My heart pounded like war drums in my chest. A single thought crashed through my mind over and over:

iWhat /iiif /iishe /iwas ipoisoned/ii? /i

She’d insisted on going to Steel Corp. I should’ve forced her to rest. I should’ve kept her close.

The receptionist looked up as I approached.

“Alpha,” she said quickly, already anticipating me. “Your wife is in the private ward. Room six. She’s okayb, /bbsir/bb./bb” /b

Just like that, my lungs remembered how to breathe.

“Who’s attending to her?” I asked.

“Doctor Ashley Gash.”

I nodded, grateful they’d assigned a female doctor. Mara would appreciate that. I didn’t waste another

second.

I took the stairs two at a time and hit the private ward floor running. When I reached Room Six and pushed open the door, I braced for the worst.

Instead, I found her upright in bed, tray bnced on herp, spoon halfway to her mouth. Her cheeks were full, her eyes wide when she saw me.

“I can’t believe Mary called you,” she mumbled through a mouthful of food.

I crossed the room in three steps and kissed her forehead, relief flooding through me like rain after a drought.

“You scared the hell out of me,” I whispered.

She swallowed and grinned. “I was just hungry. You should try this parfait–it’s heavenly.”

I sat beside her, just watching for a moment. Breathing her in. Grateful.

Ten minutester, the doctor entered with a smile, nodding respectfully.

“Good morning, Alpha.”

She wasn’t calling me heir. The title was deliberate. News of the battle must’ve spread.

“What’s going on with her?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

Doctor Gash smiled gently.

“Luna Mara is three weeks pregnant.”

Mara gasped, eyes wide. Her spoon ttered against the tray. I turned to her–she was bstunned/b. Not even a full day ago, she’d told me she was ready to have pups. Neither of us knew bshe /bbalready /bbwas/b. “Then why the fainting? The nausea?” bI /basked, my hand resting protectively over bMara’s/bb. /b“Perfectly normal,” the doctor replied. “The symptoms are heightened by stress. bAnd /bbshe /bbdidn’t /bbeat/bb, /bbwhich /b

127 What’s With Mara

bdidn’t /bbhelp/b.”

I looked at Mara again. She was still trying to catch up to the words. Still processing.

And for the first time, I wondered–was she really iready/ii? /iiOr /ihad she ijust /iiwanted /iito /ibibe/i/bb? /b

I linked the doctor silently, asking her to give us a moment.

She excused herself and slipped out quietly, leaving us alone.

I turned to Mara, watching her carefully.

Her hands rested on her stomach, motionless.

I gently moved the food tray off Mara’sp and took her hand in mine. Her eyes, still wide with shock, were shining. I searched them, trying to hide the storm of emotion inside me.

“Are you sure about this?” I asked quietly. “You don’t have to go through with it if-b” /b

She shook her head before I could finish, tears slipping silently down her cheeks.

“Are you crazy?i” /ishe said, voice breaking. “Lucian, I’m ioverjoyed/i.”

Relief and joy crashed over me at once. I let go of her hand just long enough to wipe her tears away bwith /bbmy /b

thumb.

She took a shaky breath. “Honestly… after myst heat passed and I didn’t get pregnantb, /bI started bto /bbworry/b. I know it doesn’t always happen during heat, but we’ve been trying. And when nothing happened… I thought something might be wrong with me.”

She paused, eyes dropping for a second. “I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t want you to carry that bworry /bbtoo/b.”

She looked up at me again, smiling through her tears, “But now I know–I’m okay. iWe’re /iokay.”

I couldn’t speak. Words would’ve failed anyway. So I leaned in and kissed her–hard, hungry, full of everything

I felt and couldn’t say.

When we finally broke apart, I sat beside her and rested my forehead against hers, our breaths mingling.

“We need to celebrate,” I murmured.

She nodded, grinning, cheeks flushed.

Doctor Gash returned a few minutester. She paused at the door, read the room, then stepped in with a

smile.

“So… shall we schedule your antenatal visits every two weeks, Luna?”

Mara nodded, her hands resting gently on her stomach now. The doctor beamed.

“Congrattions to both of you,” she said, and with that, we were cleared to leave.

I didn’t even let Mara get out of bed on her own. I lifted her bridal style, and sheughed, burying her bface /bbin /b

my neck.

As we walked through the hospital, the staff pped and cheered–congrattions following bus /bbdown /bbthe /b

hallway. For the pack, this was more than personal news. It was legacy. A future. A promise.

My heart was full.

We stepped outside, and I bfroze/b–realizing I hadn’t brought a bcar/b.

127 What’s With Mara

Mara looked up at me, a mischievous smile on her lips. She didn’t say a word. Just waited for the moment to

hit.

And then Iughed. Loud and real.

“Alpha, need a lift?” someone called out nearby. A man by the hospital’s main doors, keys in hand, smiling at olliUS. /li/ol

Mara burst outughing, and I turned to the man, grateful.

“I do, actually,” I said.

I carried Mara to the car and gently helped her into the back seat, then slid into the passenger side.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Ambrose Conrad,” he replied.

“Thank you, Ambrose,” I said, offering a warm smile.

“Where to?” he asked, ncing between us with a mix of curiosity and awe.

“Prisoni,/i” I said.

He blinked.

Maraughed again from the back seat, and even Ambrose cracked a smile.

I pulled out my phone and called Denis. “Have someone bring my car to the front gate,” I said. “I’ll be there

soon.”

But right now, even as war simmered beneath the surface, I just wanted to hold on to this moment

longer.

My mate.

Our pup.

Everything was about to change.

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