Aiden didn't sleep.
His body lay still beside the den wall, but his mind kept circling the same word like it was something sharp lodged under his skin.
Pregnant.
Impossible. Wrong. A mistake Theron made because fear had rotted his judgment.
He was a beta. He had always been a beta. Betas didn't—didn't carry, didn't nest like this, didn't—
The shift came without permission.
Bone slid, breath tore from his chest, and suddenly the world narrowed into scent and sound and instinct. Fur replaced skin, the den expanding and shrinking all at once as his wolf took over.
he did not panic.
he curled.
Slowly, deliberately, he circled the bed once, twice, tugging blankets with careful teeth, pressing his body into the corner Theron had reinforced months ago. His tail came around—not tight, not protective in the way of fear, but sure.
It draped over his belly.
Aiden's mind recoiled inside his skull.Stop. That's nothing. That's habit.
His wolf ignored him.
he breathed deep, sorting the air. Not danger. Not threat. Just… life. Warm. Fragile. his.
A low sound vibrated in his chest—not a growl. Not a whine.
A hum.
Mine, the wolf thought, simple and absolute.
Aiden shoved back hard enough to make his head ache when he shifted back. He dragged a hand over his face, breath uneven.
"This isn't real," he muttered to the empty den.
The den answered with silence.
Then—
A sharp spike of scent.
Blood. Iron. Wrong.
Aiden was on his feet instantly.
The ground shuddered.
Not an earthquake—footfalls. Many of them. Too coordinated. Too heavy to be prey.
Aiden grabbed his blade from where it leaned against the wall, pulse snapping into place like it always did before a fight.
Outside, a horn sounded—short, broken.
Pack alarm.
Theron.
Aiden didn't think. He never did when it mattered.
He burst from the den just as chaos spilled across the clearing.
Shadows moved at the tree line—figures wrapped in dark leather, sigils burned into their armor. Mage-hunters. The kind that didn't care whether you were alpha, omega, god-touched, or nothing at all.
Theron stood at the center of it, already bleeding from a shallow cut across his shoulder, eyes blazing as he barked orders.
"Aiden—stay back!"
Too late.
One of the attackers turned at the sound of his name.
And smiled.
"Oh," the man said softly. "There he is."
Aiden's wolf slammed forward so hard it nearly knocked him dizzy.
Threat.
Kill.
His vision sharpened, scent narrowing to one thing—the man whose eyes lingered just a second too long on Aiden's midsection.
The man lifted his hand.
A spell snapped through the air—aimed low.
Aiden didn't dodge.
He lunged.
Steel met bone. The man went down screaming, but the damage was done—pain ripped through Aiden's side, white-hot and wrong. He staggered, hand flying instinctively to his stomach.
The world tilted.
Theron was there in an instant, catching him before he hit the ground.
"No," Theron growled, fear finally breaking free. "Aiden—look at me. Stay with me."
Aiden's wolf howled inside him—not in pain, but fury.
You endangered us.
Aiden clenched his jaw, forcing himself upright despite Theron's grip. "I'm fine," he lied through his teeth. "Finish it."
Theron stared at him like he was insane.
"You're bleeding."
"I've been worse."
Theron's hands shook as he held him. "You don't get to decide that anymore."
Aiden opened his mouth to argue—
—and his wolf surged again, wrapping instinct around the fragile thing inside him, pulling his awareness inward for just a heartbeat.
Warmth.
Heartbeat.
Not his.
Aiden froze.
Theron felt it—the way Aiden went utterly still, eyes wide, breath caught.
Something shifted in Aiden's scent.
Not acceptance.
But terror edged with awe.
The outside battle faded to noise.
"…That," Aiden whispered, voice barely sound, "wasn't me."
Theron pressed his forehead to Aiden's temple, relief and fear tangled so tight it hurt. "No," he said softly. "It wasn't."
Aiden swallowed hard.
His wolf curled tighter inside him, unyielding.
Now you know, he said, calm as dawn. You can scream later. Protect first.
The last of the attackers fled into the trees.
The pack stood stunned.
Aiden didn't notice.
He only noticed Theron's hands—steady, careful, unbreakable—holding him like something precious, not weak.
And for the first time since the word had been spoken—
he didn't say no.
He just didn't say yes yet.
The den was too quiet.
Not peaceful—hollow.
Aiden sat alone on the edge of the bed, stripped down to linen and bandages, the faint copper scent of blood still clinging to his skin no matter how much water he'd used. The fight echoed in his bones even after the sounds had faded.
Theron had tried to stay.
Aiden had snapped at him until he left.
Now the silence pressed in.
His hands trembled before he noticed they were shaking.
"…It's not real," he whispered, staring at his palms. They looked normal. Strong. Scarred. Hands that had held swords, claws, lives.
Hands that couldn't—
His breath hitched.
The memory surged back without mercy.
That pause inside him.That unfamiliar warmth.That second heartbeat that wasn't his own.
Aiden folded forward, elbows on his knees, forehead dropping into his hands.
"No," he said, harsher now, like volume might make it true. "I didn't agree to this."
His wolf stirred—not panicked, not ashamed.
Present.
Breathe, the wolf urged. You are alive. We are alive.
"That's not the same," Aiden rasped. His throat burned. "I was a beta. I trained as a beta. I was raised as one. I didn't—no one told me this was even possible."
The bed creaked softly as he slid down, sitting on the floor instead, back against the frame like it might anchor him.
His vision blurred.
A single tear slipped free before he could stop it.
Then another.
Aiden pressed his fist against his mouth, biting down hard enough to taste blood rather than let the sound out. His shoulders shook despite him, breath breaking in short, ugly pulls.
"I can't do this," he whispered. "I don't even know how."
The wolf moved closer inside him, not overwhelming—just there, solid and warm.
You don't have to know yet, the wolf said simply. You only have to survive.
A sharp knock echoed from the den entrance.
Aiden stiffened instantly, swiping at his face. "Go away."
The flap shifted anyway.
Ronan stepped in.
He froze the moment he saw Aiden on the floor.
"…I'll leave," Ronan said quickly.
"No." Aiden's voice came out rough, scraped raw. "Just—say it and go."
Ronan hesitated, then spoke quietly. "The attackers."
Aiden's spine went rigid.
"They weren't hunting Theron," Ronan continued. "They were hunting you."
Aiden looked up slowly.
Ronan swallowed. "One of them had a scent-lock. Tuned to… pregnancy."
The word landed like a blade between Aiden's ribs.
"No," Aiden said flatly.
"They knew," Ronan said. "Not guessed. Knew. They called you the Moon's Vessel before they died."
Aiden's fingers dug into the floor.
Something dark and feral rose in his chest.
Ronan shifted his weight uneasily. "Theron's tearing the forest apart trying to track who sold the information."
Good.
They should run.
"Anyone else know?" Aiden asked.
Ronan shook his head. "Not yet."
Aiden pushed himself to his feet, legs unsteady but stubborn. "Good. It stays that way."
Ronan frowned. "Aiden—"
"If I hear one more person speak about my body like it's pack property," Aiden growled, eyes flashing gold for half a second, "I will lose control."
Ronan went still.
Then, quietly, "Understood."
He left without another word.
The moment the den flap fell closed, a new scent curled in.
Theron.
Aiden's wolf surged forward instantly, hackles rising.
Too close.
Aiden didn't realize he'd moved until Theron stepped in and Aiden was suddenly between him and the bed, shoulders squared, scent flaring sharp and possessive.
Theron blinked. "Aiden?"
Aiden's chest rose and fell fast. "Why do you smell like the healer?"
Theron stilled.
"…I asked questions," Theron said carefully. "About protection. About—"
Aiden's lip curled before he could stop it. "You don't get to prepare without me."
Theron took a step closer.
Aiden took one too—blocking him again, tail flicking sharply behind him before he realized he'd half-shifted.
Theron's eyes darkened, not with anger.
With awe.
"You're guarding," Theron murmured.
Aiden snapped, "I am not—"
The wolf pushed up hard.
He is ours, the wolf said, fierce and territorial. He stands between danger and den.
Aiden's breath caught.
Theron smiled—soft, reverent. "You're jealous."
"I am not," Aiden shot back, then added bitterly, "I just don't want anyone touching you like they think they're allowed."
Theron stepped into his space slowly, hands open, non-threatening. "No one is allowed."
Aiden's scent spiked again.
"…Promise?" he muttered, hating how small it sounded.
Theron lowered his forehead to Aiden's. "On my godhood. On my life."
Aiden's wolf relaxed—just a fraction.
Enough.
Aiden exhaled shakily and leaned forward despite himself, forehead resting against Theron's collarbone.
"…I'm scared," he admitted, barely audible.
Theron wrapped his arms around him, careful, steady, unbreakable.
"I know," he said softly. "And I'm not going anywhere."
Inside, Aiden's wolf curled tighter around the fragile warmth he still refused to name.
Mine, the wolf said again.
And this time—
Aiden didn't argue.
The rain came down in thin, patient lines, washing blood into the roots of the trees.
Two figures knelt in the mud.
They were broken—bones twisted wrong, breath bubbling wet in their throats—but they were still alive. Long enough.
Evelyn stood a few steps away, cloak pulled tight around her human frame, boots already ruined by the filth. She looked deeply out of place among wolves and blood and moonlit forest.
Annoyed.
"Well?" she snapped. "You dragged me out here for this?"
One of the attackers laughed—a wet, choking sound.
"You didn't tell her," he rasped to his companion, teeth red. "She doesn't know."
Evelyn's brow furrowed. "Know what?"
The second attacker lifted his head slowly, eyes gleaming with something close to triumph despite his state.
"Your precious Aiden," he said. "The omega you can't let go of."
Evelyn stiffened. "Don't say his name."
"Oh, we will," he replied softly. "Because you deserve to know."
A pause.
Then, clearly—cruelly—
"He's carrying a child."
The world tilted.
Evelyn stared at him, lips parting slightly. "…What?"
The first attacker coughed again, smiling through the pain. "Moon-blessed. Alpha-seeded. A miracle, really."
"That's not funny," Evelyn said sharply, though her voice wavered. "Men can't—wolves can't—he's—"
"Pregnant," the second repeated. "We smelled it days ago. Sweet. New. Powerful."
Something in Evelyn's face cracked.
Her hands curled into fists so tight her nails cut skin.
"…No," she whispered.
Images flashed unbidden—Aiden laughing in the sun, Aiden training until his hands bled, Aiden looking at her with that stubborn, loyal fire in his eyes.
Mine, her mind insisted.
"He was supposed to come back to me," she said, voice hollow now. "He was confused. That wolf twisted him—"
"The alpha?" the attacker interrupted. "Theron?"
Evelyn flinched.
"Oh, he knows," the man went on. "Knows and guards him like treasure. Like a nest."
Nest.
The word burned.
Evelyn's breath came faster, shallower. Something ugly and electric curled in her chest—not grief.
Possession.
"…Aiden didn't tell me," she murmured.
The attackers exchanged a look.
"Of course he didn't," one said. "You're human. Weak. Irrelevant."
The knife was in her hand before she realized she'd moved.
A single, efficient slash.
The forest went quiet again.
Evelyn stood there for a long moment, chest heaving, staring at the bodies at her feet.
Then she laughed.
Soft at first.
Then breathless.
"…Pregnant," she whispered, eyes shining too bright. "That means he's vulnerable."
The rain kept falling.
Evelyn lifted her head toward the distant den, a smile slowly spreading across her face.
"And if he's carrying something precious," she said sweetly, "then he'll need someone who understands him."
Her fingers pressed to her chest.
"Someone human."
The moon watched.
And far away, unaware—
Aiden slept.
"don't worry love, i kidnap you again...i keep you safe again" Evelyn coo to the night.