Chapter 2- Congratulations

Nia’s POV

It has been over a month since Darian stood before the pack and stripped me of the title of Luna, reducing me instead to what he called an “Honoured Companion,” a term that sounded respectful but felt like exile within my own home.

Honoured Companion.

The words followed me everywhere, stitched into every introduction, whispered behind my back, spoken with careful politeness by wolves who once bowed their heads when I passed. My chambers had been moved from the Alpha wing to the eastern corridor. My authority had been reassigned. My decisions now required approval from the very woman who replaced me.

“Lyra Klam!”

Lyra never missed an opportunity to remind me of that.

She was clever in the way she turned situations to her advantage. A misplaced document became my oversight. A delayed patrol report became my negligence. A disagreement in council became my defiance. Somehow, every minor inconvenience found its way back to me, carefully presented to Darian in a way that made her appear wounded and reasonable.

And every time, Darian listened.

That was the part that hurt the most.

He did not question her the way he once questioned everyone. He did not weigh facts with the same patience. When it came to Lyra, instinct overruled logic.

I was reviewing inventory reports when a guard knocked on my door.

“The Alpha requests your presence in his office.”

I looked up from the report and breathed in deeply. Requesting my attention never meant anything good anymore.

As I walked down the corridor toward his office, my stomach tightened with a familiar dread. The wooden doors stood half-open, and even before I entered, I heard soft sobbing.

Lyra was seated in one of the chairs opposite Darian’s desk, her posture fragile, her bandaged arm cradled carefully against her chest. The white wrapping stood out starkly against her pale skin.

Darian stood behind his desk, his jaw tight, his eyes dark.

He did not ask me to sit or even care to spare me a glance as I walked in.

“What is your role in this pack?” he demanded the moment I stepped inside.

The question was so abrupt that for a second I simply stared at him.

I rolled my eyes despite myself, exhaustion dulling my restraint. “My role,” I replied evenly, “is to assist the Luna. That has been my duty ever since you demoted me, and it is precisely what I have been doing.”

His expression hardened.

“Then explain to me why Lyra was not properly prepared for the Alpha’s gathering this afternoon. Explain why she was left to handle ceremonial duties without guidance and ended up embarrassing this pack. Explain why she burned herself during the incense ritual.” he shouted all out in one breath that I thought he might choke on his words.

I blinked my long lashes, turned to face Lyra who has the most innocent face on. One might mistake this little devil for an angel if not properly informed.

The Alpha’s gathering.

I had forwarded the full preparation schedule to Lyra three days ago. I had even offered to walk her through the sequence personally. She had declined, stating that she was more than capable.

“It is the Luna’s responsibility to familiarize herself with ceremonial procedures,” I said, my patience thinning. “I sent her the preparation documents. I offered assistance. She refused it.”

Lyra’s sobs grew softer but more deliberate, as if timed carefully with the conversation.

“I did not want to burden her,” she whispered. “I thought I could handle it.”

Darian’s gaze snapped back to me. “You should have ensured she was ready. Instead, she humiliated herself before the visiting Alphas and suffered an injury.”

I felt something inside me snap. He had never cared if I injure myself while preparing for anything concerning the pack as he mostly dismiss it as my role in moving the pack forward.

“Humiliated herself?” I repeated. “It is her duty to learn how such tasks are handled. I am not her tutor. I am not your shield when things go wrong because your Luna is unprepared.”

The room went silent.

Lyra’s tears paused.

“You are crossing a line,” Darian said coldly.

“No,” I replied, my voice rising despite my effort to contain it. “I am finally drawing one. I am not your doormat, Darian. You do not get to channel your anger at me every time something falls apart because your fated mate is incapable of performing her responsibilities.”

His wolf surged forward so fast I felt it like a physical force.

In two strides he was in front of me then his palm connected with my cheek.

The slap came without warning.

The sound echoed sharply against the office walls, and my head snapped to the side as heat exploded across my cheek.

For a moment, there was only ringing in my ears.

“Remember your place,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “You are still speaking to your Alpha.”

Slowly, I turned my face back toward him. The sting was intense, but it was nothing compared to the humiliation burning through me.

I stepped closer instead of retreating.

“The only thing saving you at this moment,” I said quietly, meeting his eyes without flinching, “is that title. Because I will not stand here another second and allow you to belittle me again for the sake of your so-called fated mate.”

His nostrils flared, but I did not give him the chance to respond.

I turned and walked out.

By the time I reached the corridor, my hands were trembling. My stomach churned violently, and a wave of nausea rose so suddenly that I barely made it to the nearest bathroom.

I fell to my knees before the porcelain basin and emptied what little I had eaten that morning. My body felt weak, feverish, drained in a way that had nothing to do with the argument.

This was not the first time in recent days.

I pressed a cool cloth to my forehead, trying to steady myself. The dizziness had been coming and going for over a week now. Fatigue clung to me like a shadow. I blamed stress and lack of sleep. Emotional strain.

But as I leaned back against the tiled wall, a thought surfaced that made my breath hitch.

“It could not be.” I muttered to myself.

I pushed myself up and returned to my chambers, summoning my personal maid.

“Send for the pack physician,” I instructed quietly. “Tell him I require a private examination.”

She bowed and left without question.

The wait felt endless.

When the physician finally arrived, he conducted his examination with professional calm, asking measured questions, checking my pulse, my temperature, pressing lightly against my abdomen.

His brows lifted subtly.

He repeated one test.

Then another.

When he finally stepped back, there was a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Congratulations,” he said warmly. “You are with child.”

The words hung in the air.

For a long moment, I simply stared at him, unable to process the weight of what he had just said.

Darian’s heir.

The pack’s future and mine.

A fragile, trembling warmth spread through my chest, pushing against the bitterness that had taken root there for weeks. For the first time since I had been stripped of my title, something inside me did not feel broken.

It felt… alive.

After the physician left, I placed my hand gently over my abdomen.

Hope is a dangerous thing.

But as I stood there in the quiet of my room, I allowed myself a small, fragile thread of it.

Perhaps this could change everything.

Perhaps this child could remind Darian of the bond we forged, of the promises he once honored.

Perhaps I was not as powerless as I had begun to believe.

And for the first time in over a month, I did not feel entirely alone.