Page 59 of Bully Alpha's Pregnant Mate

We collapse against each other, our limbs tangling. His lips brush against mine, a gentle, lingering kiss.

“Wow,” I sigh, still struggling to catch my breath.

He chuckles, his hand caressing my cheek. “That’s only the beginning, Isadora. There’s a lifetime of ‘wow’ ahead of us.”

“Mmm,” I murmur, a sleepy, satisfied sound. “I can’t wait.”

“Me neither,” he murmurs, his arms wrapping around me, pulling me closer.

And with the moon overhead and the candles flickering softly, we lie wrapped in each other’s arms, the stars shining down on us and a future of possibility stretching out before us.

Epilogue - Alec

Eight Months Later

There are a few things that make me want to run from a council meeting—Gray’s “big announcements” among the top of that list—but right now, there’s only one reason I’d actually leave in the middle of one: Isadora.

I’m sitting at the council table, only half-listening as Gray clears his throat with the kind of self-important air that usually means he’s about to drop some earth-shattering news on us. I glance around, taking in the slightly bored expressions of the other alphas who’ve had to endure this formality just as long as I have. Damien’s practically dozing off beside me, but my mind’s only half here, anyway.

Isadora’s been complaining about feeling heavy and uncomfortable for weeks now. ”I swear I’m about to give birth to a were-basketball,” she muttered just this morning.

Well, at nine months along, I’m not sure how she expects to feel, but I value my head and decide to keep that comment to myself.

Gray’s voice drones on, something about the border territories or resource allocation, but the words barely reach me. My focus is already slipping to thoughts of her, of the life we’re building. And while things have stayed relatively calm in the packs, there’s this quiet contentment I never expected to feel.

But right as Gray’s getting to the part that has the whole room leaning forward, my phone vibrates. I look down, and the message flashing on the screen from my mother-in-law makes my stomach drop in the best way possible.

“Isadora’s in labor.”

The council’s still waiting on Gray’s “big reveal,” but there’s no way I’m missing this. I’m out of my seat before the chair even hits the ground.

“Where are you going?” Damien asks, his brows lifting.

“Isadora,” I explain, already moving to the door.

He just grins and nods. “Go get ‘em, Alpha.”

I’m in my truck before anyone can say another word, barreling down the road toward our place. We’d decided on a home birth weeks ago, knowing it would keep her surrounded by the familiar, by pack members who are as close as family, and give her the peace of her own space. Hospitals aren’t exactly designed for shifter births, anyway. A few of the bigger ones have some of our kind working for them, but none of them are close enough for our comfort, so we decided to stick with a healer.

My heart is pounding with a mix of excitement and nerves. Every mile between us feels like a weight pressing down, urging me to go faster, the hum of the engine matching the rapid beat of my pulse.

The drive itself is a blur—nothing but the flash of trees, the distant peaks of the mountains, and the narrow, winding road that somehow feels longer than it ever has. All I can think about is getting to her, being there for the moment we’ve been waiting for. My hands grip the wheel, knuckles white, and the anticipation builds with every turn.

Finally, the house comes into view, and I’m out of the truck before I’ve fully stopped it, barely remembering to shut the door. Inside, the house is buzzing with activity; wolves and healers move about with purposeful energy, and their eyes light up when they see me. But I don’t stop for greetings or updates,just take the stairs two at a time. My focus is singular as I head straight for our room.

Isadora’s lying there, looking every bit the fierce luna I know and love. As she glances up at me, her face softens, lighting up even through the discomfort. “So you ditched Gray’s announcement, huh? I told Mom it could wait.”

“Can’t think of anything I’d rather hear than our baby’s first cry,” I comment, moving to her side and taking her hand. The strength in her grip tells me everything I need to know—she’s got this. We’ve got this.

Time blurs as we settle into the waiting. Maren, our healer, moves quietly around the room, checking in every now and again to see how far along Isadora is. She’s got a few herbs and warm rags at hand, stuff I don’t know much about but seem to help Isadora settle between contractions.

Between waves of pain, Isadora glances at me and asks, “So, think we’re having a future alpha or luna in there?”

We’d both agreed not to find out beforehand, even though the pack was dying to know. There was just something about the wait—something about the mystery of not knowing—that made the whole experience feel even more real. Isadora had said it was one of the few surprises we could let happen, and I’d agreed. For all our plans and defenses, this felt like one thing we could let be a surprise. Something that would remind us what we’re fighting for, day in and day out.

And right now, that feels like the best decision we’ve ever made.

“I think,” I say, brushing a damp strand of hair from her forehead, “that whoever they are, they’re going to be trouble if they take after their mom.”

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