Page 27 of Alpha's Heir

The room was silent again, save for the soft rustle of leaves outside—a reminder of the forest that might soon be lost to us. I reached out, taking her hand in mine, needing the connection, the shared strength.

Cora squeezed back, her grip fierce. "Okay," she breathed out, a tremor in her voice. "Okay, we'll do it your way. We'll survive."

And in that moment, I felt the shift, the reluctant acceptance mingling with the iron resolve. We would leave, but we wouldn't be broken. We'd take our heartache, our rage, our memories, and we'd use them. We'd forge a new path, one that would lead us back to victory, or to a new home, a new life.

Chapter thirteen

Cora

Thememberofourpack who'd have been up for the task of checking on the life growing inside me was lying in a makeshift infirmary, bandaged and bruised from the battle. It was a stark reminder of our vulnerability. So, it was up to Weston and me to venture into the unknown, beyond the borders of our territory and into Philadelphia, where skyscrapers replaced trees and the scent of nature was drowned out by exhaust and asphalt.

As Weston drove, his gaze lingered on the passing cityscape, a landscape he once knew as well as the back of his hand. "I wish we could bring the pack here," he said, a distant look in his eyes, one that spoke of memories and days long gone.

I reached over and squeezed his hand, offering silent support. "It's just wishful thinking," he continued, the ghost of a smile flickering on his face. "We need to go farther to escape the Unseen Pack's reach."

I nodded, a lump forming in my throat at the thought of leaving everything behind. "Not to mention," I added, trying to find a hint of levity in the grimness of our situation, "our wolves have always had the forests, the freedom to roam, to be wolves when the urge strikes."

He chuckled, a sound that was more resigned than amused. "Yeah, that's a bit hard in a city."

The truth hung between us, unspoken but understood. Our pack was not made for city life; our very essence was tied to the wilderness, to the untamed expanse where our paws could touch the earth, not concrete.

We pulled into the doctor's office, a nondescript building nestled between a bustling coffee shop and a laundromat. The city sounds were a cacophony compared to the symphony of the woods. It felt alien, intrusive.

"We're a long way from home," Weston murmured, his hand resting on the ignition for a moment longer than necessary before he turned off the car.

I didn't reply because what was there to say? We were far from home and moving farther still. All because of the Unseen Pack.

Weston's hand found mine again, his grip steady and sure. "We'll find a new home, Cora. One where we can all be safe."

I nodded, swallowing back the fear and uncertainty that threatened to choke me. "We will," I agreed, because I had to believe it—not just for me, but for the tiny life that depended on us now.

We sat there, the weight of our decisions, our future, pressing down on us. The city moved around us, oblivious to the war we were fleeing, to the losses we had suffered. To the rest of the world, we were just another couple going to a doctor's appointment, not a pair of wolves on the brink of losing everything.

Weston's hand left mine as he reached for the door, the simple action marking the end of our brief respite. "Let's do this," he said, his voice steady, giving me strength.

"Let's," I echoed, and together we stepped out into the city, into the unknown, carrying our hopes and fears with us as we moved toward the doctor's office, toward the future.

The door to the doctor's office clicked shut behind us, muffling the cacophony of city life. The sterile scent of antiseptic hit me first, so different from the earthy fragrances of the forest. I instinctively took a deep breath, trying to find a hint of something natural, but there was nothing.

Weston's hand found the small of my back, a reassuring presence. "You okay?" he whispered, his breath warm against my ear.

"Yeah, just not used to... all of this," I murmured back, gesturing vaguely at the sleek furnishings and the fluorescent lighting.

We didn't have to wait long. A nurse called us back, her smile bright but her eyes missing that genuine warmth I was accustomed to within the pack. "Cora and... Weston, is it? Right this way, please."

The exam room was small, clinical. I hopped up onto the table, the paper crinkling under me. "So, twenty weeks, right?" the nurse asked, flipping through the chart.

"That's right," I confirmed, trying to sound more confident than I felt. I caught Weston's eye and he gave me an encouraging nod.

"Let's check on this little one, then," she said, and her professionalism was a comfort in its own way. She squeezed some cold gel onto my belly, and I couldn't help but flinch. Weston's hand found mine again, and I squeezed it, grateful for his strength.

The screen flickered to life, and there it was—our baby. It was surreal, seeing the little figure moving inside me. The nurse pointed out the heartbeat, a rapid drumming that was the sweetest music I'd ever heard. "Do you want to know the sex?" she asked.

I looked at Weston, who shrugged. "It's up to you, Cora."

I turned back to the nurse. "Yes, we want to know."

"It's a girl," she announced after a moment's inspection.

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