Aria's POV
I threw up for the third time that morning, my whole body shaking over the toilet.
This was getting worse. Whatever sickness had grabbed hold of me wasn't letting go. For two weeks now, I'd been dizzy, nauseous, exhausted beyond reason. I could barely keep food down.
"Aria?" Old Healer Meredith's voice came from outside the bathroom. "Child, you need to let me examine you."
"I'm fine," I lied, wiping my mouth with a trembling hand. "Just a stomach bug."
"That's not a stomach bug." Her voice was firm but kind. "I've been a healer for seventy years. I know what I'm seeing. Now come out here before I drag you out."
Meredith was the only wolf in this pack who'd ever shown me real kindness. She was too old to care about pack politics, too respected for anyone to punish her for being nice to an omega.
I stumbled out of the bathroom, and she guided me to sit on my bed. Her weathered hands were gentle as she pressed against my stomach, my forehead, checked my pulse.
"When was your last cycle?" she asked quietly.
My mind went blank. When was it? I tried to remember, counting backward. One month. Two months.
Oh no.
"Eight weeks," I whispered, the realization hitting me like a truck. "I haven't had one in eight weeks."
Meredith's eyes softened. "And you've been with someone?"
My face burned. "I... yes. But we've been careful—most of the time—I didn't think..."
She placed both hands on my lower stomach, closing her eyes. Her healing magic—weak but real—pulsed through me. After a moment, she opened her eyes and smiled sadly.
"You're pregnant, child. About eight weeks along, just as you said."
The world tilted sideways.
Pregnant. I was pregnant with Daemon's baby.
"Are you sure?" My voice came out strangled. "Completely sure?"
"Completely sure." She squeezed my hand. "There's a tiny heartbeat in there. Strong and healthy."
I pressed both hands to my stomach, feeling nothing but knowing everything had changed. A baby. Our baby. The physical proof that Daemon and I were real, that these three years meant something.
"Does anyone else know?" I asked desperately.
"Not from me. This is between us." Meredith's expression turned serious. "But Aria, who's the father? If it's another omega, the pack won't—"
"It's Daemon," I blurted out, then immediately regretted it.
Her eyes went wide. "Alpha Daemon? The Alpha's son?"
"Please don't tell anyone." I grabbed her hands. "Please. He's going to announce me as his Luna tonight at the ceremony. He promised. But I need to tell him about the baby first, in private. If word gets out before he can explain everything to the pack—"
"Child." Meredith's voice was heavy with pity. "Tonight's ceremony... you know what happens at succession ceremonies, don't you?"
"He becomes Alpha," I said confidently. "And then he can finally claim me publicly without his father interfering."
She didn't say anything, but her expression made my stomach drop.
"What?" I demanded. "What aren't you telling me?"
"Succession ceremonies are when new Alphas announce their chosen Luna," she said carefully. "The pack expects—"
"I know. That's when he's going to announce me."
Meredith looked like she wanted to argue, but instead, she just patted my hand. "I hope you're right, dear. I truly do."
After she left, I paced my tiny room, hands pressed to my stomach. A baby. Daemon's baby. The future Alpha's heir.
He'd be thrilled. He had to be. This changed everything.
Tonight, he'd claim me publicly like he promised. And when I told him about the baby afterward, in private, he'd be even more sure about his choice. You couldn't abandon the mother of your child, your heir.
The mate bond pulsed warmly in my chest, and my wolf—still so weak and silent—stirred with something like hope.
We were going to be a family.
I spent the rest of the day in a daze, going through my servant duties on autopilot. Every time I saw Daemon, my heart raced. I wanted to tell him right then, but no—it had to be perfect. After the ceremony, after he'd announced me, then I'd share our secret.
As evening approached, the packhouse exploded with activity. The succession ceremony was the biggest event in years. Wolves from neighboring packs arrived to witness Daemon's rise to Alpha.
I served drinks again, invisible as always, but tonight it didn't hurt. Tonight was the last time I'd ever be invisible.
The ceremony began in the main hall. Hundreds of wolves packed in to watch. Alpha Crest stood on the stage with Daemon beside him, looking every inch the perfect leader.
"Tonight, my son becomes Alpha," Crest announced, his voice carrying through the crowd. "Tonight, he takes his place as leader of Silvercrest Pack."
The formal ritual began—oaths, declarations, the transfer of Alpha power from father to son. I watched Daemon's face as magic swirled around him, marking him as the new Alpha. His eyes glowed bright green, his aura expanding to fill the room.
He was magnificent. Powerful. Everything an Alpha should be.
And soon, he'd be mine publicly.
"Now," Alpha Crest—former Alpha Crest—said with a proud smile, "my son will announce his chosen Luna. The female who will stand beside him and lead this pack."
This was it. My moment. I set down my tray, ready to step forward when Daemon called my name.
Daemon's eyes swept the crowd. For one second, they found mine. Something flickered in his expression—was that regret? Apology?
Then he smiled and held out his hand.
"I choose Celeste Thorne as my Luna."
The world stopped spinning.
Celeste squealed with joy, rushing to the stage. She threw her arms around Daemon, kissing him while the pack erupted in cheers and applause.
"Perfect choice!"
"She'll be an amazing Luna!"
"They look so good together!"
I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Couldn't process what I was seeing.
The tray slipped from my numb fingers, crashing to the floor. No one noticed. Everyone was focused on the happy couple on stage.
Daemon pulled Celeste close, and when his eyes found mine again over her shoulder, they were cold. Empty. Like I'd never mattered at all.
The mate bond in my chest turned to acid, burning me from the inside out.
And my hand—my trembling, cold hand—pressed against my stomach where our baby grew, the baby he didn't know existed.
The baby whose father had just chosen someone else.