Mighty Female Alpha, Fearless of Betrayal Chapter 04
The next morning, Vivian looped her arm through mine like nothing had happened.
“Aurora, let’s go! Prenatal checkup, I want to see how your pup’s doing!”
At the pack clinic, the doctor pulled up Vivian’s ultrasound and her expression shifted fast.
“Miss Vivian, you’re carrying ten pups. We haven’t seen a litter this large in decades. The fetal readings are extremely concerning.”
“You need to be admitted today for selective reduction.”
“Your blood sugar is dangerously high. No alcohol, no fried food, not a single exception from here on out.”
Vivian barely registered any of it. She grabbed the doctor’s arm. “What about Aurora? How’s Aurora’s pup?”
The doctor turned to me, her voice settling into warmth. “The Alpha’s pup is in perfect health. Strong heartbeat, right on track for size. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”
Vivian lit up like she’d won something. She actually clapped her hands.
The doctor’s frown deepened. “Miss Vivian. Ten pups. Critically compromised. If you don’t admit yourself today—”
“They’ll be fine.” Vivian cut her off with a breezy wave. “They’re not like Aurora’s. Hers is special, needs everything. Mine are tough. They’ll manage on their own.”
She slid a look at me. Smug. Satisfied.
“If a few don’t make it?” She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”
The room went dead silent. The nurses stared. The doctor looked like she’d been hit.
I watched Vivian’s barely-hidden glee and felt something cold and sharp settle inside me.
She thought the hex had already done its work. She thought my healthy pup was already inside her womb, wearing her name.
What she’d never stopped to think about: no normal she-wolf carries ten.
Back home, Vivian stopped pretending to care about anything.
Raw oysters. Cocktails. Foie gras. Unpasteurized cheeses.
She ate everything. She ballooned fast, face swollen, double chin, stretch marks spreading up her sides. She stopped looking like herself.
Meanwhile I kept up my runs, did yoga every morning, ate clean. At every checkup the doctor said the same thing: “Your pup is thriving.”
One evening I overheard Vivian pulling at Ethan’s sleeve, her voice gone thin. “You haven’t touched me in weeks. Are you sick of me already?”
Ethan pulled back from her with barely disguised disgust. “Look at yourself. I don’t exactly feel inspired.”
Vivian’s voice sharpened instantly. “Ethan. If you keep shutting me out, I’ll tell Aurora everything. See how long she wants you around after that.”
A silence. Then his voice came back tight and grinding. “Fine. Just don’t do anything stupid.”
Afterward, Vivian suddenly curled in on herself, a choked sound escaping her. “Something’s wrong. I’m bleeding. A lot.”
Ethan barely glanced over. “You bled last time too. Just lie still. It’ll stop.”
But her voice came out higher this time, ragged. “This is different. I can’t stop it. It won’t stop.”
Ethan finally scrambled up, hands useless at his sides.
I pushed the door open and made my voice go sharp with alarm. “Oh my God, look at that. We need to get her to the clinic right now. Vivian, I think you’re going into labor.”
Vivian’s head snapped up, white-faced and shaking. “That’s impossible. I’m only three months along. Wolves don’t deliver at three months.”
I looked at her steadily.
“Wolves don’t. But cats do.”
