Luna’s Revenge: Pregnant After Her Alpha’s Betrayal

Lily “Luna, you’re pregnant.” The words literally shattered the floor beneath my feet. I didn't move. I just stared at the pack doctor, waiting for the flicker of correction, hoping she would reveal she had read the wrong file. She didn’t, giving me a sympathetic look instead. My chest tightened, and the air whooshed out of me, a breathless, panicked sound. “No,” I finally managed, shaking my head. “That can’t be right.” The doctor, thankfully, didn’t try to comfort me. Instead, she reached for the file on the counter and gently turned it so I could see. “It’s all here, Luna,” she confirmed. “Your bloodwork. The additional tests I ordered this morning.” My fingers trembled as I took the file. I scanned the pages frantically, the medical jargon and numbers blurring together, until a few simple, devastating words began to repeat themselves: Positive. Confirmed. My stomach dropped with a sickening finality. I was here for a routine check. That was all this was meant to be—a routine health check. Lately, the fatigue had been overwhelming, a heavy exhaustion that refused to lift no matter how much I slept. Even my wolf felt weak. I blamed the pack first. The relentless responsibilities of being the Luna of the Duskmoon pack, the endless duties, and the crushing weight of maintaining an image of strength. Sometimes, I blamed Owen. Our adopted son. It was difficult to admit, even in the privacy of my own mind, but it was true. Every day felt like a new battle with him, and I seemed to be losing it. I told myself this heaviness in my body, this constant drain, was simply the cost of holding our crumbling family together. Pregnancy never crossed my mind. It couldn’t have. Because years ago, I had been told it was impossible. “Luna… I am sorry… you can’t conceive. You’re infertile.” I remembered sitting perfectly still, my hands folded tightly in my lap. I was terrified that if I moved, I would break. Rowan had spoken before I could, his big, warm, steady hands wrapping around mine. "It’s okay, sweetheart," he had whispered. "It doesn’t matter to me. I still love you the same. I’ll figure something out. Don’t you worry. I’ve got you. I will take care of everything." I had believed him. I accepted that deep, private loss because the Alpha of the Duskmoon Pack and my beloved husband had promised I was enough without it. That was why my throat was tight now as I lifted my eyes from the damning report. “I was told I couldn’t...by the old pack doctor,” I whispered to the doctor. “That…I couldn’t get pregnant. That I was…infertile.” “That was your diagnosis then,” she nodded gently, staring at my old reports. “So how is this happening?” My voice was thin, bordering on hysteria. “You are pregnant, Luna,” she said. “Just over a month along. You must have started feeling the symptoms a long time ago. Did it never occur to you?” I couldn't reply to that. How would it occur to me when, for so long, I have known that I could never conceive? I was infertile. “This isn’t real,” I murmured, more to myself than to her. She hesitated, then gestured toward the examination bed. “We can confirm with an ultrasound. Just to be certain.” I slowly nodded, wishing with all my heart that all this would be a very big misunderstanding while I got changed and then fumbled down on the bed, my heart hammering in my chest. I focused on the ceiling, my breathing shallow, my mind a storm of scattered thoughts as she applied some bloody cold gel on my stomach and then started the machine. When she finally turned the screen toward me, I forced my eyes to look. At first, it was just swirling shapes and shadows. Then she adjusted the image, and it became clearer—small, fragile, and yet undeniably there. A moment later, a sound filled the room. It was soft, rhythmic, and steady, repeating with quiet, relentless certainty. “That’s the heartbeat,” she said. My breath caught painfully in my chest. I couldn't look away. The evidence was irrefutable. The life beneath my ribs was real. I was indeed pregnant. The moment I stepped outside the clinic, the cold air hit me like a physical shock. My knees buckled, and I sank onto a nearby bench, clutching the armrest to anchor myself. Pregnant. The word pulsed in my head, and I had to bend forward, elbows on my knees, forcing myself into the slow, quiet breathing technique I used to survive unbearable pack meetings. I should have felt joy. This was the dream I had completely given up on. But this was not joy. This was a suffocating dread. My gaze fell to the medical report trembling in my lap. I needed to tell Rowan. But the word "two weeks" kept echoing in my mind. Two weeks... I calculated the timeline with terrifying precision. Rowan hadn’t touched me in months. There was an undeniable, cold distance between us that we had both dismissed as the result of the immense responsibilities we each had. My chest constricted painfully. The realization settling, slow and heavy: This child wasn't his. The guilt was immediate and blinding, sharp enough to make my vision blur. I squeezed my eyes shut, gasping as the weight of betrayal pressed down. My hands shook harder as the forbidden memories I had fought for weeks to suppress finally broke free. The deep, steady voice, the electric touch, the raw hunger. “Goddess… you’re beautiful.” “I can’t look away from you.” “Tell me to stop,” he had whispered, his breath hot against my skin. And I hadn’t. I hadn't just made a mistake; I had demolished the very foundation of my position. I was the Luna, chosen for my discipline and respectability. My entire worth to the pack and to Rowan was built on my ability to be contained, loyal, and steady. And I had shattered that image for one night of electric, breathless passion. I had betrayed him. I had betrayed my marriage, my rank, and the pack’s expectations. I pressed the heel of my hand against my mouth, stifling a sob. One night. That was all it had been. I had told myself it was a mistake, as I had run out in the morning. I was sure I could forget it. I couldn’t, no matter how hard I tried. Tears slid down my cheeks, silent and uncontrollable. This child was proof of that night. Proof of my failure. I curled forward, wrapping my arms around my middle, the report pressed tight against my chest. I was pregnant, and the father was a stranger I might never see again. I had no idea how to survive what came next, but I knew one thing with terrible certainty: I had to tell Rowan the truth.