Chapter 8 A Teaser

Becca initially dove into the food placed before her like a woman who hadn't eaten in days. Each bite reminded her of just how hungry she truly was, but as the minutes ticked by and her stomach filled, she realized something odd-eating felt like work. An actual chore. The women around her kept urging her to eat more, piling her plate high with more delicacies, smiling as if they were delighted by every mouthful she took. It wasn't until she made a lighthearted joke-"What if all this food stops the maybe baby from forming?"-that they finally relented and allowed her to stop.

The laughter that followed helped ease the tension in her shoulders, even if only a little.

Now, she stood at the edge of a training ground, watching as the warriors of the Wrath Pack trained under the mid-morning sun. Her eyes roamed over the different body types-some were lean but fast, others built like walls of solid muscle. Some were smaller than Dean, but a few, surprisingly, were even more physically imposing. Every movement they made was sharp, disciplined, and purposeful. Becca couldn't help but think that they were putting on a show for her benefit. They weren't just training; they were demonstrating their loyalty, silently assuring her that if the need arose, they would protect their Luna.

"Oh, what fine specimens they are," Malia said from within her mind, her voice sounding smug and cheerful. "But you know our Dean is better than all of them."

Becca frowned. "He's not our anything, Malia. Don't forget why we're here. Don't get carried away."

Malia just giggled. "We could just claim him as ours. He's way better than... you-know-who."

Becca groaned inwardly. "Stop talking nonsense," she snapped, irritation prickling her skin like thorns.

"Are you speaking with your wolf?" a deep voice broke into her interaction from behind. Her body reacted before her mind could catch up. Every inch of her stiffened, remembering the touch, the heat, the way he'd handled her last night without an ounce of hesitation or tenderness. She turned quickly to face him, and as expected-it was Dean.

His expression was unreadable, eyes cool and detached. "Yes," she answered curtly.

Dean gave a slow nod, then turned his attention back to the field where the warriors continued sparring. "Good," he said plainly. "But it seems my wife enjoys the sight of well-built warriors."

Becca narrowed her eyes at him, but before she could talk herself out of it, a reckless idea sparked in her mind-and she leaned into it. "Indeed," she said with a small smirk as she watched him thoroughly to see his reaction. "They're very much my type."

The words barely left her lips when Dean's head turned back to her sharply. The way he looked at her made her stomach twist. His gaze darkened with something primal, his entire demeanor shifting like a predator spotting prey.

"Repeat that," he said, his voice low and laced with warning.

Becca immediately averted her gaze, pretending not to have heard him. Just then, someone else caught her attention-another man, tall and charming, who had been standing behind Dean. As soon as he noticed Becca looking at him, he offered her a polite bow and a wide grin.

"Hello, Luna. I'm Ray, the Beta to our Alpha. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," he said warmly.

Becca smiled back, mirroring his polite gesture, but even that was enough to make Dean growl audibly. The tension was thick, and she could feel the jealousy rolling off Dean like heat from a flame. She quickly tried to diffuse it.

"I need clothes," she announced casually. "I can't keep going around in yours."

Dean's eyes roamed her figure as if inspecting the shirt and boxer shorts she was wearing-his clothes. Something flickered in his eyes, and for a moment, she thought he might have actually smiled. Her eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly looked away.

"Well," he muttered, voice lower now, "it's not a bad look on you. It suits you."

Was that... a compliment? If it was, it was the most awkward, backhanded one she'd ever received. Becca rolled her eyes just as Ray chuckled behind them.

"I said I need new clothes," she repeated, this time sounding more commanding, as if testing the waters of her new position.

To her surprise, Dean nodded. "Ray, send a designer to her room tomorrow. As soon as she wakes."

Ray bowed his head again, acknowledging the order.

Becca couldn't help but ask, "Why not today? I'm not busy."

Dean turned to look at her again, his gaze unreadable as he stepped closer. He leaned down, lowering his head until his face was level with hers.

"Exactly," he murmured, his voice low and deliberate. "And why are you so free? Shouldn't you be attending to your husband instead of admiring other men?"

The final words were whispered so close to her ear that she was certain no one else could have heard them. But the stunned expression on her face said it all-Dean Lucas, the infamous Alpha of the Wrath Pack, had just shamelessly flirted with his Luna.

---

Back in the Bright Light Pack

Mark sat at the head of the long council table, massaging his temples as the voices of the ministers filled the air with concerns and proposals.

"Our resources won't last much longer. We should consider shifting toward agriculture-our lands are large enough for cultivation," one suggested.

Mark barely heard him. The weight of leadership had grown unbearable. During his father's reign, the mineral resources alone kept the pack thriving. But now, the mines were almost dry, and trade with neighboring packs had become more strained and expensive. The worst part was... he hadn't expected to miss her.

Becca.

She had been the opposite of Bianca in every way. Where Bianca spent frivolously, obsessed with appearances, Becca had been thoughtful, careful with what was given to her. She appreciated the small things-never asked for too much. He hadn't realized it then, but now her absence clawed at him.

He leaned back, letting his head rest against the chair. The image of Becca's sorrowful eyes the day she discovered his betrayal still haunted him. She had known. And the look in her eyes told him she had truly loved him-until that moment. And he destroyed it.

But he had loved Bianca first... even before the bond connected him to Becca. He had wanted the other sister, even after being tied to Becca by fate. And when Bianca came to him in tears, crying that he no longer loved her, they conspired-selfishly and foolishly. The guilt was unbearable.

A sharp headache throbbed at his temples.

"That's enough for today. We'll reconvene next week," he dismissed the council.

The ministers rose, though one gave him a scathing look-a quiet judgment on his incompetence.

As they left, Mark opened the drawer of his desk and pulled out a worn photograph. Becca, vibrant and smiling, stared up at him from the picture. He clenched his teeth and slowly reached out to caress her image. To him, the Becca he once knew had died the day they stole her core and inserted Bianca's in its place. He had lost her-truly lost her.

He clutched the photo to his chest, eyes shut, trying to remember the sound of her voice, the way she used to smile.

The door to his office suddenly swung open. Bianca entered, striding over to him with an expression of excitement.

"I have good news," she chirped, her voice filled with pride.

Mark quickly tucked the photograph back into the drawer and straightened up, forcing a smile.

His Bianca.

"I'm pregnant," she announced, eyes glowing.

The forced smile fell from his face. Cold dread replaced it.

His voice was sharp. "Whose child is it?"

.