Chapter 138
Kassak's POV
"What did you say?" I kept my voice perfectly controlled despite the internal disruption her words had caused.
"I'm pregnant," Lyra repeated, her voice stronger this time. "About four weeks along."
My mind—always calculating, always three steps ahead—stumbled momentarily. Four weeks. That would place conception around the time I'd decided to elevate her status by finally allowing her more than just the oral services she'd provided for the past two years. For twenty-four months, I'd kept that boundary clear—her mouth, her hands, but nothing more. It maintained the hierarchy, kept things uncomplicated.
Until that night after her successful reconnaissance of Moonshade territory. I'd wanted to reward her loyalty, bind her closer to me. And she had assured me that she was barren. "I can never give you children," she'd whispered once, her eyes downcast in what I'd interpreted as shame. It had been one of the reasons I selected her for my bed in the first place.
No complications. No entanglements. No heirs to threaten my absolute authority.
"That's impossible," I said finally, rising from my bed with deliberate slowness. "You told me you were barren."
Her scent shifted subtly—anxiety laced with determination. "I believed I was," she said. "With my previous mate, I never conceived despite years of trying."
I approached her, moving with predatory grace. "How convenient that you discover your fertility now."
I circled her slowly, my wolf rising close to the surface. No woman had ever carried my child. No woman ever would, if I had my way. I had no interest in creating a Luna, in sharing my power or having my bloodline continue. Power divided was power diminished.
In my younger years, when I'd first become Alpha of what remained of my slaughtered pack, I'd sometimes wondered about finding a true mate. The elders had spoken of it—that instant connection, the completion of soul and purpose the Moon Goddess supposedly blessed her chosen pairs with. As a newly ascended Alpha of twenty-two, I'd even looked for her when rebuilding Bloodclaw, scanning the eyes of every female wolf we encountered.
But years passed. The Moon Goddess had already proven her cruelty by allowing my pack to be decimated. Why would she grant me a mate? Eventually, I stopped looking. Stopped caring. The satisfaction of meticulously planned vengeance became sweeter than any promised mate-bond could be.
Lyra had been reliable, efficient, and unquestioningly loyal for years. Had she been playing a longer game? Or was this pregnancy truly unexpected?
A child. My child. The thought left a bitter taste in my mouth. I required no legacy beyond the destruction of those who had wronged me. No Alpha's son or daughter to weaken my resolve or distract from our purpose. The Bloodclaw Pack existed for one reason: vengeance. Not family. Not the future. Only payment for the past.
"Let's be clear," I began, keeping my voice measured. "You told me you couldn't conceive. You used that information to gain my trust, to assure me there would be no... entanglements."
"I never lied to you," Lyra replied evenly. "I truly believed I couldn't have children."
"Perhaps the deficiency was his, not yours," I suggested with a cold smile.
"Perhaps," she acknowledged. "Or perhaps the timing wasn't right until now."
I noted how her pulse quickened at her throat, how her scent shifted between fear and determination. My wolf appreciated the fear—it was proper, necessary—but that thread of determination troubled me.
I moved to stand before her, drawing myself to my full height, letting my Alpha power fill the room. I watched as she instinctively lowered her eyes—a reflex born from years of submission.
"This pregnancy is inconvenient," I stated flatly. "Your purpose is to serve Bloodclaw's mission. A child will render you ineffective for months, possibly years."
I leaned forward, my voice dropping to a silken whisper. "You will terminate it."
The words hung in the air, an order, not a request. I expected immediate acquiescence—perhaps reluctance, perhaps tears, but ultimately submission.
Instead, Lyra raised her eyes to meet mine directly. "No."
For a moment, I thought I had misheard. "Excuse me?"
"I said no." Lyra's voice remained soft but unwavering. "I won't terminate this pregnancy."
I felt a surge of rage so pure it momentarily blanked my vision. In thirty years, no one in Bloodclaw had directly refused an order from me. The punishment for such insubordination was swift and brutal—a lesson to others about the price of defiance.
Yet something in Lyra's steady gaze gave me pause. This wasn't the impulsive rebellion of a subordinate testing boundaries. This was something deeper, more primal.
"You completed your task with the Moonshade Alpha," I said, mastering my anger. "But I have other plans that require your particular talents. A child would be a distraction we cannot afford."
"I understand the importance of our mission," Lyra replied. "But I won't kill my child. Not even for Bloodclaw. Not even for you."
I studied her with new interest. In her eyes was a light I hadn't seen before—not the eager submission she displayed in my bed, nor the focused determination of a soldier awaiting orders. This was something entirely new.
Something dangerous.
Motherhood makes women foolish. It creates weakness where there should be strength, hesitation where there should be action. More concerning was how this might affect others in the pack. If she could refuse me without consequences, what message would that send?
I turned away, weighing my options. I could force the issue immediately—there were herbs that would induce miscarriage without her knowledge. There were missions that could be arranged to result in "unfortunate accidents." But such measures would require planning, and any suspicion might drive her to potential betrayal at a critical moment.
No, there were smarter ways to handle this.
I turned back to her, allowing my expression to soften. "I'm surprised by your attachment to this... situation. But I respect your position."
The flicker of relief in her eyes confirmed I'd chosen the right approach. She had expected punishment, perhaps even death, for her defiance. My apparent understanding disarmed her.
"Thank you," she said, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. "I promise this won't affect my commitment to the pack."
"Of course not," I agreed smoothly. "We'll simply need to adjust your duties accordingly. For now, you should rest. We'll discuss specifics tomorrow."
As she rose to leave, visibly relieved by my response, my mind was already forming the perfect plan to eliminate this unwanted complication.
"Lyra," I called before she could reach the door. "I have one more task for you."
She turned back, her expression cautious. "Yes, Alpha?"
"Prepare a strike force—fifty of our best warriors. You'll lead them to seize the northern ridge of Moonshade territory three days later." I traced the location on the map with deliberate precision. "It's time we moved beyond psychological warfare to something more... tangible."
Her eyes widened slightly. "An actual invasion?"
"The first of many," I confirmed, a cold smile playing at my lips. "Bloodclaw requires more resources, more hunting grounds. And I want to see how quickly Blackwood's pack responds when truly threatened." I studied her reaction carefully. "Unless, of course, your... condition makes you hesitant to lead our warriors into battle?"
I saw the challenge register in her eyes—exactly as I intended.
"I'll prepare immediately," she replied, straightening her posture. "We'll secure that territory for Bloodclaw."
Perfect. Whether she succeeded or the mission proved dangerous enough to solve my other problem—either outcome would serve my purpose.