Page 25 of Surprise Baby for My Fated Alpha

I stood up, cradling the ancient book against my chest, and glanced toward the door. My heart pounded in my throat. This changed everything. We weren’t just fighting a battle for the clan’s survival—we were part of something far bigger, something ancient and inevitable.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that the book had been waiting for me. Hidden away, waiting for the right moment to reveal itself. The timing was too perfect, too … fated.

I wasn’t sure I was ready for what that meant. But one thing was clear: I needed to confront Orion about this. I exhaled and headed straight to the room where I left Orion.

I stood in front of Orion, the air between us thick with the weight of what I had found. The ancient book felt like lead in my hands, every page I turned tightening the knot in my chest. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t want to believe it. But the words on the page were clear, unmistakable.

“What’s this, Orion? Did you know about this?” I finally asked, my voice sharp, cutting through the silence. I held the book out, shaking it slightly for emphasis. The old leather cover creaked in protest, but I didn’t care. My heart was pounding too hard to focus on anything but the answer I needed from him.

Orion glanced at the book in my hands, his jaw tightening for just a moment. The flash of guilt in his eyes was brief, but I caught it. He knew.

“I’ve seen it,” he said, his voice low and guarded.

“You’ve seen it?” I repeated, my disbelief ringing loud. “That’s all you have to say? You’ve seen it?”

My pulse quickened. I couldn’t tell if it was anger or hurt or something else, something deeper and rawer, rising in my chest. He knew about the prophecy—about us—and yet, he had kept it buried. Hidden.

“It’s an old prophecy, Luna,” he continued, running a hand through his hair. “Over two hundred years old. I didn’t put much stock in it.”

I stared at him, my fingers tightening around the book. “You didn’t put much stock in it?” The words felt bitter on my tongue. “It speaks of fated mates, Orion. Of you and me, of the Alpha and the Seer. It’s not just some old legend, it’s our lives. Our future.”

Orion looked away. His expression was unreadable. His silence infuriated me, like he was shutting me out, like this wasn’t as monumental as it felt.

“It’s not that simple,” he said quietly.

“Not that simple?” I took a step towards him, my heart twisting. “How long have you known? How long have you known that thisprophecy has been hanging over us, over our heads, and you didn’t think to tell me?”

His eyes met mine, and for a moment, I saw the struggle in him—the conflict. “I’ve known for a while,” he admitted, his voice flat. “But it was written so long ago, Luna. Two centuries. Prophecies are vague, open to interpretation. I didn’t want to pressure you with something that might not even come to pass.”

I felt like the floor was slipping out from under me. Pressure? He thought this was about pressure? This wasn’t about trying to live up to some ancient script. This was about truth, about understanding what was happening between us. And he had known—known—and still chose to keep me in the dark.

“Do you hear yourself?” I asked, my voice trembling. “We’ve been thrown into something neither of us understands, and you knew there was a prophecy—about us—and you just … what? Decided to ignore it? Hoped it would go away?”

Orion’s expression hardened. “I didn’t ignore it. I just didn’t want to make everything about some old prophecy. I didn’t want you to feel trapped by it. I didn’t want us to be trapped by it.”

His words stung in ways I couldn’t explain. He thought he was protecting me, but all I felt was betrayed. There was something bigger than us at play, something pulling us together, and he had chosen to pretend it didn’t matter.

“You should have told me,” I whispered, my voice cracking under the weight of my emotions. “You should have trusted me enough to tell me the truth.”

Orion stepped closer, his hand reaching out like he wanted to comfort me, but I took a step back. The space between us felt like a chasm now, a gap too wide to cross.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice softening. “I didn’t want you to feel like you didn’t have a choice. I didn’t want this to define us.”

But it already was defining us. The prophecy, the visions, the undeniable pull between us—it was all part of something much larger than either of us could control.

“I don’t have a choice,” I said, shaking my head. “None of us do. It’s already happening.”

Orion fell silent, his gaze dropping to the floor. I could feel the energy between us shifting, the weight of unspoken things heavy in the air. I wanted to scream, to cry, to make him understand how much this hurt. But instead, all I felt was hollow.

“I thought I could protect you from it,” he murmured. “But I see now that I’ve only pushed you further away.”

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. The trust I had had in him felt cracked, broken in a way that couldn’t be easily fixed.

That night, the silence between Orion and me was unbearable. It wasn’t the kind of silence that brings peace—it was charged, like the air before a storm. Every unspoken word, every question I had choked down since I found the prophecy, hung in the space between us like a dark cloud.

Orion didn’t reach for me, and I didn’t move toward him. The weight of what was left unsaid gnawed at me. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, but my mind was racing. He knew. He knew, and he still kept it from me.

Eventually, exhaustion claimed me, but the moment I drifted off, the visions came. Hard and fast, more vivid than any I had ever had.

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