Page 4 of The Alpha's Auctioned Pregnant Mate

As the night wore on and the conversation drifted to lighter topics, Articus found himself lost in thought. The upcoming journey to the Annex pack loomed large in his mind, bringing with it a swirl of emotions and responsibilities.

He thought about Cassius, the cousin he barely knew, now stepping into the role of Alpha. What challenges would he face, leading a pack that straddled two worlds? And what would it mean for the future of both their packs?

The pressure from the elders to produce an heir suddenly seemed trivial in comparison to the weight of this responsibility. Yet Articus knew it was all connected, the continuity of leadership, the preservation of their traditions, and the protection of their people.

Chapter 2 - Wren

The first rays of dawn crept through the cracks in Wren’s ramshackle cabin, rousing her from a fitful sleep. She stirred, groaning as she rolled over on her threadbare mattress, desperate to claw back the fading remnants of sleep.

But it was no use. She was awake now, and with it came the familiar gnawing emptiness that had been her constant companion for far too long.

With a sigh, she sat up, rubbing her eyes and running a hand through the tangled mess of her hair. Silence greeted her, save for the creaking of old wood and the distant chirping of birds outside.

“Another day in paradise,” she muttered, her voice hoarse from disuse. When was the last time she’d actually spoken out loud in her home? Days? Weeks? Time blurred out here on the Dark Side of the mountain, where one shadowy moment bled into the next.

She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, wincing as her bare feet met the chill of the wooden floor. Everything ached—a bone-deep weariness that never seemed to fully dissipate no matter how much she rested.

She was too young to feel this old, dammit.

Going through the motions of her morning routine—splashing cold water from the cracked basin onto her face, combing through the worst of the knots in her hair, pulling on the least dirty clothes she could find—she caught a glimpse of herself in the tarnished mirror hanging crookedly on the wall.

Her eyes were hard, wary, shadowed by dark circles that hinted at too many sleepless nights. Her lips, drawn into a thin line, seemed as though they’d forgotten how to smile.

Had she? She forced herself to try, just to see what it would look like. The corners of her mouth twitched, but the attempt was hollow. The familiar spark in her usually doll-like eyes was gone, snuffed out without a trace. Not even a ghost of it remained.

“You’re fine,” she told her reflection sternly. “You’re managing. You’re surviving.” But the words felt empty even as she said them. She wasn’t fine. She was barely holding on, and deep down, she knew it.

Turning away from the mirror, unable to stand her own scrutiny, her gaze landed on a small shelf where she kept the few belongings she cherished. A battered photo album. A wooden figurine her father had carved for her as a child. Her mother’s favorite scarf, frayed and faded but still holding the faintest trace of the scent she clung to in her memories.

Unbidden, thoughts of her parents surged forward. Their laughter echoing through the small home they’d once shared. The way they’d dance together in the kitchen while preparing dinner—her father spinning her mother around as she grinned ear to ear, a picture of happiness.

The love in their eyes, fierce and unwavering. A love she feared she’d never find again.

A lump rose in her throat, and she shook her head, chasing away the memories before they could pull her under. She couldn’t afford to dwell on what was lost. Not if she wanted to make it through another day.

Stepping outside, she inhaled the crisp mountain air. The forest stretched out before her, a dense sea of green that wasboth comforting and suffocating. This had been her home for years now, ever since… well, ever since everything fell apart. But lately, even these once-familiar paths felt foreign, as though the forest itself was rejecting her.

She set off on her usual route, checking the snares she’d set and foraging for anything edible. The routine was mindless, which was both a blessing and a curse. Her hands moved on autopilot while her thoughts ran wild, circling the same dark fears that haunted her every step.

Everyone knew what happened to wolves who stayed cut off from their pack too long. They lost themselves, piece by piece, until there was nothing left but raw instinct and madness. She’d seen it before—had nightmares about it.

Pausing mid-step, she leaned against a tree as a wave of dizziness washed over her. Was this how it started? Was she already losing her grip on reality? The chill that crawled up her spine said yes, but she refused to give in to that fear.

No. She wasn’t that far gone. Not yet.

Closing her eyes, she took deep breaths, summoning happier memories—the ones that kept her anchored. Her parents’ faces. The sound of their voices. The warmth of belonging that came from being part of something bigger than herself.

The memories helped, but they also hurt, reminding her of the gaping hole in her life. She’d known for years that a wolf’s anchor didn’t have to be their birth pack. It could be a chosen family, a bond formed with others. That’s how some rogues managed to survive on this side of the mountain, forming new lives out of the ashes of the old.

But where did that leave her?

Alone.

The irony wasn’t lost on her. Her parents had been rogues, too, and they’d built a life together, creating a family against all odds. They were living proof that hope could exist even for those cast out by society.

And look where that hope had gotten them.

With a bitter smile, she pushed away from the tree and forced herself to keep moving. There was no time for self-pity out here, not when every second of inattention could mean the difference between survival and starvation. Between life and death.

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