Pregnant By The Ruthless Werewolf CEO

Chapter 11: The First Night Home- Part 1

The car ride was silent.

Too silent.

Lena stared out the window of the black Maybach, one hand pressed to her stomach. The baby was quiet now. After the scare at the hospital 3 hours ago, after the monitors beeping and the doctor’s face going pale, after the Alpha’s hand almost crushing hers… quiet felt dangerous.

“Are you in pain?”

The voice cut through the silence. Low. Cold. Controlled.

Lena didn’t look at him. “No.”

A lie. Her back ached. Her head pounded. And the fear hadn’t left her chest since the doctor said _“premature contractions. Stress-induced.”_

Darius Wolfe didn’t reply. He just tapped his phone once.

The driver immediately rolled up the privacy glass.

Now it was just them. Alpha CEO of the North Pack. And the human journalist he knocked up in a one-night contract.

“You shouldn’t have gone to the warehouse,” he said finally. His voice wasn’t angry. It was worse. It was disappointed. “I told you to stay in the penthouse.”

“I’m not your prisoner.” Lena turned to him. Her eyes were red but dry. She’d cried enough in the hospital. “I was following a lead. About the smuggling ring. Your ring.”

Darius’s jaw ticked. “It’s not my ring.”

“Then whose is it?”

“Mine to handle.” He finally looked at her. Gray eyes, sharp like a wolf’s in winter. “Not yours. Not when you’re carrying my heir.”

There it was. _My heir._

Not _our_ baby. Not _the_ baby.

_My heir._

Lena laughed, but it came out brittle. “Right. The contract. Nine months. Then I disappear. I remember.”

The car hit a bump. She hissed and grabbed the door handle.

In one second Darius’s seatbelt was off and his hand was on her stomach. Warm. Big. Possessive.

“Don’t,” she whispered.

“Don’t what? Touch you?” His hand didn’t move. “The doctor said no stress. No sudden movements. You almost lost him because you were chasing headlines.”

_Him._

The doctor didn’t say the gender. Darius just assumed.

Lena closed her eyes. “Get your hand off me.”

He did. Slowly. Like it cost him something.

The rest of the ride passed in silence again.

---

The Wolfe Tower penthouse was on the 80th floor. All glass and steel and cold light.

The elevator opened directly into the living room.

It was spotless. No pictures. No books. No sign anyone actually lived here. Just like him.

Two maids stood at attention the moment they stepped out. Both were she-wolves. Both bowed their heads.

“Alpha.”

“Leave us,” Darius ordered. “And tell the doctor to be on call tonight.”

“Yes, Alpha.”

The doors closed.

Lena stood in the middle of the penthouse in the same clothes she’d worn to the hospital. Her shoes were still dirty from the warehouse. She felt small. Out of place.

“Your room is down the hall,” Darius said, already walking toward the bar. He poured himself whiskey. Didn’t offer her any. “Second door on the right. A doctor will check you again in the morning.”

“What about food?” Lena asked. Her stomach growled traitorously. She hadn’t eaten since morning.

Darius paused. “I’ll have something sent up.”

“That’s it?” She couldn’t help it. The words came out sharp. “No ‘how are you feeling’? No ‘sorry I yelled at you’? Just… room and food?”

He turned. The glass in his hand caught the city lights. “What do you want me to say, Lena? That I’m glad you risked my child? That I’m glad you almost died today?”

“I didn’t almost—”

“You did.” He set the glass down. Hard. “The monitors were screaming. You were bleeding. If we’d been 10 minutes later—”

He cut himself off.

For the first time since she met him, Darius Wolfe looked tired. Not the CEO tired. Not the Alpha tired.

Human tired.

Lena’s anger fizzled out. She hugged her arms around herself. “I’m sorry too. I didn’t think—”

“No. You didn’t.” He sighed and rubbed his temples. “Go to your room. Rest. That’s an order, not a request.”

She nodded and walked away.

The second door on the right.

It wasn’t a guest room. It was huge. King bed. Walk-in closet already full of clothes in her size. A bathroom with a tub. And on the nightstand…

A copy of her ultrasound.

The one from 2 weeks ago. The one she’d hidden in her bag.

Darius had found it.

Lena picked it up with shaking hands. The little blob on the screen. Her baby. _Their_ baby.

There was a note under it. Written in sharp, impatient handwriting.

_Doctor says 8 weeks. Heartbeat is strong.

Don’t scare me like that again.

- D_

No “Love”. No “From”. Just _D_.

Lena sat on the bed, clutching the ultrasound to her chest. The adrenaline was finally crashing. Her whole body hurt.

There was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” she said weakly.

It wasn’t a maid. It was Darius.

He had a tray. Soup. Bread. Water. No whiskey.

He set it on the table without looking at her. “Eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You will be.” He pulled the chair out and sat. Not close. Not far. Just… there. “I’m staying until you finish.”

Lena stared at him. “Why?”

“Because if you don’t eat, the baby doesn’t eat.” Simple. Logical. Wolf logic.

She picked up the spoon. The soup was warm. Chicken. Ginger. Exactly what she liked when she was sick.

She hadn’t told him that.

They ate in silence. Well, she ate. He watched.

When she was done, he took the tray. At the door he paused.

“Lena.”

“Yeah?”

“Get some sleep.” A beat. “Please.”

Then he was gone.

Lena lay down, still in her clothes. The ultrasound under her pillow.

For the first time in weeks, the penthouse was quiet. No reporters. No danger. Just her, the baby, and the most dangerous man in the city one door away.

She should have felt safe.

So why did her phone buzz 10 minutes later with a text from an unknown number?

[We know where you are. And we know what’s in your stomach. Run while you can.]

Lena deleted the text.

Her hands were shaking too hard to type a reply.

*We know where you are. And we know what’s in your stomach. Run while you can.*

Unknown number. No name. But the area code was local. Wolfe Tower local.

She wanted to scream. To run to Darius’s door and pound on it.

But what would she say? *"An anonymous texter told me to run"?*

He’d lock her in this room and never let her out again.

The baby kicked. Hard.

Like it felt her fear.

Lena pulled the blanket over her head and tried to breathe.

Ten minutes. That’s all it took for peace to shatter.

---

A knock.

Soft this time. Not Darius’s usual Alpha-command knock.

“Yeah?” Her voice cracked.

The door opened. Darius stood there.

He’d changed. No suit. Just black sweatpants and a gray t-shirt. His hair was damp like he’d just showered.

He looked... younger. Less CEO. More man.

In his hands: a mug. Steam rising from it.

“Ginger tea,” he said, stepping in. “For nausea. And cramps.”

Lena sat up. “How did you—”

“I have a sister.” He set the mug on the nightstand. “She had two pups. I remember what helped.”

Right. The Wolfe family. Darius never talked about them.

He didn’t sit. Just stood there, arms crossed, watching her like she might break.

“Drink it before it gets cold,” he said.

Lena picked up the mug. It was warm against her palms. “Thank you.”

He nodded once. Turned to leave.

“Wait.”

He stopped. Didn’t turn around. “What.”

“The text.” The words came out before she could stop them. “I got a text. Threatening me. And the baby.”

Now he turned. Fast.

Gray eyes went from tired to lethal in 0.2 seconds. “Show me.”

Lena fumbled for her phone. Pulled up the deleted messages. Thank god for “recently deleted.”

Darius read it. Once. Twice.

His jaw ticked. A vein in his neck pulsed.

“Who else has this number?” he asked, voice dangerously calm.

“No one. I just got a new phone last week. Only you and the hospital have it.”

“Wrong.” He was already dialing. “Beta. I need a trace. Now. Unknown number, sent to Lena 20 minutes ago. I want the owner’s head on my desk by morning.”

He hung up.

Lena wrapped both hands around the tea. “Darius—”

“Don’t say it.” He cut her off. “Don’t say ‘this is my fault.’ It’s not. This is pack politics. Someone found out about the heir and they’re scared.”

“Scared of what? A human baby?”

“Scared of change.” He finally sat. On the edge of the bed, careful not to touch her. “The old families want pureblood heirs. A human carrying an Alpha’s child? That breaks 200 years of law.”

Lena stared at her tea. “So I’m a problem.”

“You’re *my* problem now.” He said it flat. No emotion. “And I don’t leave problems unguarded.”

---

The next hour was a blur.

Security swept the penthouse. Twice.

Two new guards were posted outside her door.

Darius was on the phone the entire time. Low growls in a language Lena didn’t understand. Pack language.

She tried to sleep. Couldn’t.

At 2 AM there was another knock.

Darius again. This time he had a file.

“Eat this,” he said, and tossed a protein bar on the bed. “You need calories.”

“I’m not—”

“Eat.” That Alpha tone.

She ate.

He opened the file. Photos. Documents. A list of names.

“These are the three families that would lose the most if my heir is half-human,” he said. “The Varks. The Dren. The Morozovs.”

Lena scanned the names. Rich. Old. Powerful. “Which one sent the text?”

“Don’t know yet.” He rubbed his eyes. He looked exhausted. “But it won’t happen again. Starting tomorrow, you don’t leave this floor without me.”

“That’s house arrest.”

“That’s protection.”

“That’s the same thing!”

Darius slammed the file shut. “You want to end up in a ditch, Lena? Because that’s what happened to the last human who got pregnant by an Alpha. 40 years ago. Body was never found.”

The room went dead silent.

Lena’s throat closed. “You never told me that.”

“You didn’t ask.” He stood. “Get some sleep. I’ll be in the next room. If you need anything, yell.”

He was at the door when she said it.

“Why do you care?”

He didn’t turn around.

“Because the contract says I have to.”

The door closed.