Chapter 5 - Wolves At The Table

🦋ALTHEA

"I am pregnant."

The entire table froze.

Including me.

My head snapped toward where Circe now stood, cradling her stomach with a light smile on her face. The expression looked foreign on her face. Another façade.

"My handmaiden told me just this morning," she continued, her eyes shifting from one guest to the other, lingering on me, before settling on Draven. "I already checked with the Deltas. They confirmed it."

After our interaction just this morning, it made no sense that she was pregnant. A sinking feeling created a pit in my stomach as I watched her. I knew her long enough to know this was no miracle—there was no baby.

But I should have expected it. There was nothing that fed Circe more than attention. She could not stomach the fact that a pregnancy announcement from me would turn the tides in not only this dinner but in the messy web of our lives.

She'd sooner swallow a silver pellet than submit to such a defeat.

Draven rose, as though the words were just sinking in. "An heir?" His eyes filled with excitement, beaming. He made his way to Circe, cradling her belly. "Our heir."

I watched it all unfold, dread clawing at my chest. I had no wolf, but my intuition was not as dull as many believed.

The table erupted into congratulations. My mother swept forward, enveloping her in an embrace. The display unfolded like some bad play—every action and word rehearsed, smiles too wide, movements stiff.

As far removed as I was from the whole scene, I could feel the occasional glances that came my way from the high-ranking wolves, even as they gushed over Circe. They were waiting for a reaction—joy, sadness, horror at the news that the Luna was with child. They had questions they dared not voice.

But they need not wait for too long.

"Sister," she shifted her gaze to meet mine. Malice that no one could see but me swirled in those blue depths.

She did what she did best. She gave the people what they wanted. "Don't you have an announcement of your own?"

I blinked, caught completely off guard by the question.

A shadow of a smile lifted her lip. She knew I had not expected the question. I had expected an "Aren't you happy?" Just to fuel poisonous insinuation about me. It would be gossip before I left the table.

When I didn't respond, she glided to where I sat, resting her hand on my shoulder. I held on to my fraying composure. She ran her hand over my hair.

The entire table leaned in like she was about to let them in on a secret. And she played into it, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. My throat tightened as though she'd wrapped her fingers around it. "Althy is pregnant too."

No.

No.

NO.

The room went silent as a grave.

Draven's eyes snapped to mine.

Something dark flared in those blue-bright depths—possessive, almost feral—before it drained into something cooler, distant, dismissive. As though this was expected. As though pups were all I was good for anyway.

"A pup," he breathed, the corner of his mouth twitching into something that was not quite pride, not quite scorn. "Well. At least she can give that."

My stomach dropped.

Mother didn't miss a beat. She lifted her chin, her voice cutting through the murmurs like an icicle.

"Hopefully," she said, "it will give Althea something to occupy her time. Goddess knows she's had little else to offer."

A few laughs flickered around the table—quiet, vicious things dressed up as polite amusement.

Circe tsked lightly, laying a hand over her heart as though the thought pained her.

"Mother, Draven… don't say such things," she said, her voice a soft chastisement. "Poor Althy might feel like her pregnancy is not as important."

Another ripple of chuckles. Someone muttered something about "the wolfless one finally earning her keep."

My throat burned.

Circe shook her head as if she truly disapproved. "Please," she insisted sweetly, "don't sow enmity between sisters. Anything can happen during pregnancy. Either one of us could…" She trailed off meaningfully, letting the implication settle like soot.

Silence returned, thick and choking.

Her eyes slid to mine again, and the smallest curve graced her mouth—she didn't bother hiding her glee.

Around me, the invisible chains coiled tighter, heavier than before. Their knowledge—his knowledge—had turned them molten. I felt them wrap around my ribs, my wrists, my throat.

This should have been a blessing.

A child—my child—warm beneath my ribs, a life I had always wanted, one I had promised myself I would love the way my mother never loved me. Cherish it. Protect it.

But even this had been tainted.

Turned into a collar.

Another shackle clasped around my neck.

Extra weight on the chain I had been dragging my entire life.

The room blurred for a moment, packed with faces that weren't looking at me but looking through me—seeing not a woman, not a mother, but a vessel.

A womb for the Alpha.

Draven finally spoke.

"We'll discuss arrangements later," he said without looking at me. "She'll need supervision." I watched his eyes shift to my mother. Another silent conversation.

My mother cleared her throat. "You needn't worry."

Elias scoffed. "The whore's pregnancy is not the issue at hand right now. We have to be at the High Alpha's pack by morning. We have no time for this. I doubt the Hell Hound is making preparations for any of his pregnant sluts." His gaze slid over to me as the table laughed.

"He's probably planning his next attack on our borders," Draven continued, his expression souring.

At the mention of another attack, the cruel humor at the table was snuffed out. Some faces now contorted with mild terror that they tried to hide behind wine glasses. Thorne Vargan had that effect on everyone—inciting the type of fear that smothered any other emotion, leaving only a dread so overwhelming you forgot to breathe.

He was called the Hell Hound for a reason.

My mother spoke up, reading the shift in atmosphere. "We will soon have his head," she assured, her voice cold, almost stoic, but her eyes beamed with bloodlust.

Draven smirked. "Like you had his mother's."-