Chapter Sixty-One: The Blood Moon Omen
Chapter Sixty-One: The Blood Moon Omen
The Blood Moon hung high when Faith finally left the watchtower. Sleep didn’t come easily — every creak of the timbers, every distant howl in the forest kept her senses sharpened and her body tight as a drawn bow.
When she did drift under, it wasn’t for long. She woke before dawn, breath caught in her throat and a strange twist in her stomach. At first she thought it was the residue of a dream — some shadow of battle yet to come — but the feeling lingered, low and deep, not pain exactly, but a shift.
She sat up slowly, pressing a palm to her abdomen. The Blood Moon’s light still poured through the small window, painting her skin in a soft crimson glow.
The nausea came quick and sharp. Faith leaned over the basin, breathing hard.
By the time she straightened, David was awake. His eyes swept her like a weapon searching for a threat.
“What is it?”
“Nothing,” she said, but her voice betrayed her. “I… just felt off.”
His jaw tightened. “You’ve been pushing too hard since the gate fell. You should’ve been resting.”
Faith didn’t answer, but something in her chest trembled — not with fear, but with possibility. She didn’t want to name it yet, not until she knew.
She found Elder Nareen in the healer’s tent just after sunrise. The older woman’s sharp eyes took her in from head to toe before she even spoke.
“You’re pale,” Nareen said. “And you’re carrying your scent different.”
Faith’s pulse stumbled. “Different?”
The elder stepped closer, inhaling lightly, then frowned — not in worry, but in certainty. “You’re not ill, Faith. You’re changing. Your body is protecting more than just itself.”
The words landed like an arrow. “You mean…”
Nareen’s expression softened, a rare thing. “You are carrying life. The Alpha’s blood runs in your womb now.”
Faith’s breath caught. She had imagined this, once or twice, in quiet moments with David — but always far in the distance, after peace, after safety. Now, with war pressing at their gates, the reality felt heavier, brighter, and infinitely more dangerous.
David found her moments later. She didn’t even have to tell him. His eyes found hers, then drifted down to her stomach, and something primal flashed across his face.
“You’re mine,” he said, voice low, almost reverent. “And now so is our pup.”
Faith opened her mouth, but he was already moving — barking orders to the nearest warriors.
“Double the guard on the house. No one enters without my word. She doesn’t leave the inner ring unless I’m with her. Pull her from patrols. She’s done fighting.”
“David…”
He turned back to her, his hands gripping her shoulders as if she might vanish. “I won’t risk you. Not now, not ever Faith.”
She saw the joy in him, the fierce, possessive pride, but also the edge of fear. The kind of fear that made him dangerous to anyone who might threaten her.
“I’m not glass,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “I can still help. The pack needs me…”
“The pack needs you alive,” he cut in. “Our pup needs you alive.”
The word our sent a shiver through her. She wanted to hold onto that warmth, that sense of belonging, but already the iron bars of his protection were closing around her.
By midday, she’d been moved to the upper level of the Alpha’s hall, away from the gates, the walls, and the constant flow of warriors preparing for war. Guards stationed themselves outside the door, and every time she stepped into the hall, David’s shadow wasn’t far behind.
It should have felt safe. It felt like a cage.
From the balcony, she could see the square below — the place where she had hauled beams, carried baskets, stood in the mud with her people. Now she was expected to watch from above while they braced for another attack.
The nausea came and went, but the restlessness stayed. Her wolf paced inside her, uneasy with the confinement. She had fought to be seen, to lead — now she was expected to disappear behind guarded walls.
That night, when David finally joined her, his hands were warm on her skin, his scent wrapping around her like a shield. He kissed her with something deeper than desire — a promise, a claim.
“I’ll keep you safe,” he murmured against her hair. “Both of you.”
Faith lay still, her heart caught between two truths — the love and fierce devotion in his vow, and the knowledge that she could not be still while her pack bled for her.
Outside, under the Blood Moon’s light, the forest whispered with the movements of wolves gathering. War was coming, and she would not be left behind.