The White Wolf's Pregnant Mate, Marked For A Second Chance

The Healer told me I was finally pregnant. After two years of doubt, I was carrying the heir to the Blackstone Pack. This pup was supposed to be the key to our future, solidifying my place as the Alpha's Luna.

But just as the joy set in, a Mind-Link from my best friend shattered my world. It was an image of my mate, Damien, pressing another woman against a wall, his mouth devouring hers.

When I confronted him, he dismissed it as "blowing off steam," blaming the pressure of needing an heir.

But the real blow came when I overheard his mother praising his mistress, Seraphina. She was six months pregnant with what they called a "true Blackstone heir."

While I, his fated mate, was just an "empty shell."

Fifteen years of love and loyalty, all for nothing. The business empire I built for our pack was just a tool. Our pup, the miracle I was cherishing, was worthless to them. I was just a political necessity with a weak bloodline, waiting to be replaced.

That night, at the Full Moon Celebration, I was supposed to announce my pregnancy and beg for their acceptance.

Instead, I walked onto the stage, looked Damien in the eye, and spoke the ancient words of severance.

Then, I opened a private channel to the one man who could help me burn it all to the ground.

"Kaelan," I sent. "I agree to your plan."

Chapter 1

Elara POV:

The Healer's office smelled of dried herbs and antiseptic, a scent that usually calmed my nerves. Today, it did nothing to slow the frantic beat of my heart.

"The Moon Goddess has blessed you, Elara," old Lyra said, her voice a gentle rustle like dry leaves. She rolled up the ancient parchment scroll, her wrinkled fingers surprisingly steady. "But this... this is unusual. Your bloodline... it's ancient, powerful. Dormant. This pup has stirred something deep within you." She paused, her eyes clouding over. "Be careful. Great power attracts great trouble."

Then, her face softened. "You are with pup."

The words hit me like a physical blow, a wave of pure, unadulterated joy that made my knees weak. A pup. Our pup. Damien's and mine. After two years of whispered worries from the pack elders and my own silent fears, it was finally happening.

A warmth spread through my belly, a primal connection to the new life stirring within me. This would fix everything. This would solidify our bond, silence the doubters, and secure our future as the Alpha and Luna of the Blackstone Pack.

I clutched the diagnostic scroll to my chest, my mind already racing ahead to the upcoming Full Moon Celebration. I would announce it then, in front of the entire pack. No one could question our union after that.

A sudden, sharp jab of pain shot through my temple, not my own. It was a Mind-Link, frantic and unwanted.

The Mind-Link is a connection all pack members share, a silent way to communicate thoughts and feelings. It's supposed to be a source of unity, a web that holds us all together. But sometimes, it's a curse.

"Elara, are you okay?" It was my best friend, Chloe. Her mental voice was laced with panic.

Before I could reply, an image flooded my mind, unbidden and brutal. It was a flash of a dimly lit bar, the kind our pack frequented for business deals. And there was Damien, my promised mate, the Beta of our pack. He had a woman pressed against the wall, his hands tangled in her dark hair, his mouth devouring hers. The woman looked... she looked like a cheaper, brasher version of me.

My breath hitched. The joy from moments ago curdled into a cold, heavy stone in my stomach.

"Chloe, where are you seeing this?" I sent back, my own thoughts clipped and sharp.

"I'm here. At The Howling Hound. Elara, you need to see this. He's..."

"It's me," I lied, the words tasting like ash in my mind. The lie was automatic, a reflex honed by years of protecting Damien's reputation, of putting the pack's stability above my own feelings. "We're just playing a game, Chloe. Don't worry."

I cut the link before she could reply, the silence in my head suddenly deafening.

A game. What a pathetic excuse.

My mind drifted back, a painful collage of memories. Damien and me as teenagers, training together until our muscles screamed, our paws caked with mud. Us in corporate boardrooms, dressed in human clothes, fighting tooth and nail to expand the Blackstone Pack's business empire. Fifteen years of shared history, of sweat and blood and whispered dreams under the moon. All for this?

I drove home, the scroll on the passenger seat feeling like a mockery.

He was already there when I walked in, pacing our living room. The scent of our home-sandalwood and my own lavender-was tainted by a cheap, cloying perfume I didn't recognize.

"Where were you?" he asked, his voice tight.

"Where were "you", Damien?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "I was at the bar. Some rivals from the Silver Creek Pack were trying to poach our clients. It got heated."

"Heated?" I asked, my voice dangerously quiet.

He had the decency to look away. "Look, the elders have been on my back for months. About us. About not having an heir. The pressure... an Alpha's instincts can get out of control sometimes. It was just a way to blow off steam."

An Alpha's instincts. He wasn't even the Alpha yet, just the Beta. He was using his future title as an excuse for his present infidelity.

The pain was a physical thing, a crushing weight on my chest. But then I felt that faint, fluttering warmth in my womb. For the pup. I had to be strong for the pup.

I took a deep breath, pushing the image of him and that woman from my mind. "I understand the pressure, Damien."

Relief washed over his face. He thought he was off the hook.

"The Full Moon Celebration is next week," I said, my voice steady. "I have something to announce. Something that will solve all our problems."

He smiled, a brilliant, charming smile that had once made my heart skip a beat. Now, it just made me feel cold.

As I stood by the window that night, watching the moon rise, a black crow landed on the sill. It was an unnatural stillness to it, its eyes like chips of obsidian. Tied to its leg was a tiny, rolled-up piece of parchment.

My hands trembled as I untied it. The paper was embossed with the sigil of the Crimson Moon Pack, our biggest rival.

Below it, a single line was scrawled in elegant, mocking script: "Your future mate is sleeping with my woman. Come out. We need to talk."

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