I Accepted My Alpha’s Rejection While Carrying His Pup Chapter 06

I Accepted My Alpha’s Rejection While Carrying His Pup Chapter 06

I couldn’t sleep that night.

I kept replaying it. Kane’s broken face. Caspian’s calm voice. The way my body had finally admitted what my pride wouldn’t.

I was exhausted. Bone-deep exhausted.

At two in the morning, I went downstairs and found Grandma sitting in a booth by the diner window. Shotgun across her lap. Staring at the door.

“What are you doing?”

“Keeping watch.”

“With a shotgun full of silver?”

“This is Silverpine, baby. Everybody has one.”

We sat together in the dark for a long time.

“He won’t stop,” I finally said.

“No. Men like Kane never stop. Not because they love you. Because they can’t stand losing something they thought they owned.” She patted my hand. “But somebody just drew a line he can’t cross.”

She meant Caspian.

The next morning, a black car pulled up outside. A driver in a dark suit handed Grandma a thick envelope sealed in gold wax.

Inside, on heavy cream paper:

By order of the Lycan Crown: Ivy Hale and her unborn child are under the full protection of the King. Any member of Blackridge Pack found within Silverpine will be treated as an act of war. -C. Thorne

Underneath was a card with a single phone number.

“Well,” Grandma said, reading it twice. “That’s one way to say hello.”

“He doesn’t even know me. Why would he do this?”

Grandma gave me a look I couldn’t read. “Maybe he knows enough.”

By noon, I saw them. Two men across the street, one at the coffee shop, one pretending to read a newspaper on a bench. They blended in. Mostly.

The King’s guards.

I should have been furious. More men watching me. More walls built around me without asking.

But for the first time since I left Blackridge, I wasn’t afraid.

Kane’s attempts stopped completely.

So I started working in the diner.

Grandma taught me everything. Biscuits first. Then pies. Then her famous cinnamon apple pie, the one people drove forty miles for.

I was terrible at it.

But standing in the kitchen at five in the morning, flour in my hair, Grandma humming old country songs beside me-it was the best therapy I never knew I needed.

And every day, my wolf got stronger.

I could hear heartbeats across the room. I could smell rain coming an hour before it hit. I could tell from the scent on the door handle which regulars had been in that morning.

For three years, I thought I was broken.

I was just being starved.

“What’s your name?” I asked my wolf one night, lying in bed.

Nova, she said. And the tall one who smells like cedar belongs to us.

“He does not.”

He does. You know it too. You’re just scared.

I rolled over and shoved my face into the pillow

My morning sickness eased. My appetite came back with a vengeance. Suddenly I wanted dill pickles dipped in honey, which Grandma said, was the most disgusting thing she’d ever witnessed.

“That pup’s going to have strange taste,” she said. “God help us all.”

I laughed. A real laugh. The kind that surprises you because you forgot you could make that sound.

Then, one Thursday, another wooden box appeared on the diner step.

Inside was a jar of raw honey from the Lycan royal hives, a pack of imported ginger candies for nausea, and a note in that same sharp handwriting:

“For you and the pup. And Ivy-if Blackridge comes back, don’t let Rose use the shotgun. Use the phone

number. -C.”

I stared at it.

“How does he know about the shotgun?”

Grandma suddenly became very interested in rolling out a pie crust.

“Grandma.”

“He may have called to check on you. Once or twice.”

“Once or twice?”

“Four times. But who’s counting?”

Three years of marriage, and Kane had never once asked if I felt okay. He gave me diamonds. He gave me

a title. He gave me a house full of people who looked right through me.

Nobody had ever just handed me honey and ginger and said, take care of yourself.

I folded the note and slid it into my apron pocket.

That night I read it again before bed.

Nova curled up warm inside my chest and said nothing. For once, she didn’t need to.

And for the first time since I left Blackridge, I fell asleep without crying.