While I Carried His Pup, My Mate Chased Her

I sent the letter on a Tuesday morning.

I walked to the pack's courier station myself. I handed the sealed envelope to the clerk and paid for priority delivery to the Lycan Court's Office of Sacred Law. The clerk didn't ask what was inside. I didn't offer.

I went back to my quarters and opened the journal. I wrote the date. The time. The tracking number.

Then I waited.

The response arrived forty-eight hours later. Faster than I'd expected.

The envelope was cream-colored, heavy stock, sealed with the Lycan Crown's emblem pressed into dark wax. I opened it at my desk with steady hands.

The letter inside was typed, formal, and precise.

*Luna Sophia Voss—*

*Your inquiry has been reviewed by the Office of Sacred Law. We provide the following clarifications:*

*One. A marked Alpha may not lawfully speak the rejection vow against a Luna carrying his confirmed pup. Such action constitutes a material violation of the Sacred Mate Accord, Article VII, Section 3.*

*Two. Penalties under Council precedent include, but are not limited to: title forfeiture, pack bond severance, and permanent wolf dormancy at the discretion of the tribunal.*

*Three. A pregnant Luna retains the right to petition the Council directly. No countersignature from the rejecting Alpha is required.*

*We note that the Lycan Crown's regional envoy, Prince Travis Kensington, is currently conducting a routine sacred law audit in your territory. Any formal petition may be filed directly with his office.*

*Respectfully,*

*Office of Sacred Law, Lycan Court*

I read it three times.

Then I folded it carefully and placed it in the journal between Miriam's healer records and my inoculation logs.

I did not file a petition.

Not yet.

I pressed my fingers to the mark on my neck. Still cold. The bond transmitted nothing but hollow static.

I closed the journal and went to find the senior warrior.

---

Miriam's announcement came two days later.

She called an emergency pack assembly in the main hall. Colt stood beside her at the front. His face was drawn, his posture tense. Every wolf in Nightveil gathered within minutes.

Miriam spoke in her calm, professional healer's voice.

"Ava Evans's condition has destabilized," she said. "Her wolf is in critical decline. The wolfsbane poisoning has progressed to a stage where constant Alpha proximity is medically required. Without it, her wolf will go dormant within days."

A murmur rippled through the hall. Dara Holt, standing near the front, pressed her hand to her chest. Several she-wolves exchanged worried glances.

Colt stepped forward. His voice was steady, authoritative.

"I will be moving into the healer wing to provide the necessary support," he said. "This is a temporary medical intervention. Luna Sophia has been informed and supports this decision for the welfare of a pack member in crisis."

Every eye in the hall turned toward me.

I stood near the back, my hands folded in front of me. My face was calm. I had spent five years learning how to keep my face calm.

I nodded once.

The pack accepted it. They had been told the story by their healer, their Alpha, and their Luna. They had no framework to disbelieve all three simultaneously.

After the assembly, I walked to the senior warrior's office.

His name was Garrett. He had served Nightveil for twenty years. He respected protocol and kept meticulous records.

I knocked. He opened the door immediately.

"Luna," he said. "What can I do for you?"

"The next round of wolfsbane-resistance inoculations is scheduled in ten days," I said. "I'm delaying it pending supply reallocation."

Garrett frowned slightly. "Delayed by how long?"

"Indefinitely," I said. "I'll notify you when supplies are available again."

He hesitated. Then nodded. "Understood, Luna. I'll inform the warriors."

I thanked him and left.

That night, I wrote the delay in the journal. I wrote Garrett's reaction. I wrote the exact wording of Miriam's announcement and Colt's supporting statement.

I did not write my conclusion. I wrote the evidence and let the evidence speak.

---

I entered Ava's recovery room three days later.

I carried a healer's report I had prepared as Luna—a wellness summary for the pack's medical records. It was entirely within my authority to deliver it personally.

I knocked once. No one answered.

I opened the door.

Colt's mouth was against Ava's neck.

Not yet a mark. But his canines were extended. His wolf was fully surfaced—gold bleeding through his eyes, his hands gripping Ava's waist with possessiveness that belonged to our bond.

Through the mate link, I felt the almost-mark.

It was a serrated edge dragged across the inside of my chest. The bond screamed—a physical shockwave that radiated from the mark on my neck outward through every nerve. My vision whited out at the edges. My knees locked to keep me upright.

Colt's eyes snapped to mine.

Guilty. Feral. Caught.

Ava's expression behind him was something else entirely. Half-apology. Half-triumph. Her hand rested on his shoulder, fingers curled possessively.

I stood in the doorway and looked at them both.

I did not scream. I did not speak.

I reached up with steady hands and unclasped the Luna pendant from my neck—the silver crescent moon Colt had given me the night he marked me.

I walked forward. Placed it on the table beside Ava's bed.

The pendant made a soft click against the wood.

I turned and walked out of the room.

I walked down the corridor. I did not hurry. I did not slow down.

I made it to my quarters before I let anything on my face.

I sat at the desk. Opened the journal. My hand was shaking now—just the left one, the tremor I'd been suppressing for days.

I wrote the date. The time. What I had seen. What I had felt through the bond.

Then I turned to the page with the Lycan Court's response letter.

I read it one more time.

*Any formal petition may be filed directly with his office.*

I pulled a fresh sheet of paper from the drawer.

I began to write.