Stopped My Delivery, Alpha’s Mad Regret Chapter 08
POV: Alpha Mirko
News of the tragedy spread like wildfire across the
Werewolf Continent.
The Alpha of the Blackbloom Pack had locked his
Luna in an observation room solely to reserve a
priority delivery slot for his mistress. One life lost,
one unborn life perished.
The pack’s reputation lay in complete ruins.
The young nurse–the one who had pleaded for Celia–finally stepped forward.
“I warned them,” she told the crowd, voice shaking.
“She kept screaming that the pup was coming.
They called her crazy. Said she was causing a
scene.”
“I knew she was our Luna. But I’m just a nurse. I
couldn’t stop the Alpha. Or the former Luna.”
Public outrage erupted instantly. Wolves across
the realm demanded we be burned alive.
I felt nothing.
I sat among Celia’s things, folding her clothes.
In her bag, I found a pregnancy journal.
Page one: Felt the baby’s heartbeat today. Mirko cried.
Page two: He said if it’s a boy, he’ll teach him to play ball.
Page three: He bought the ugliest pair of baby shoes. I kept them all the same.
I flipped to the final page, and my movement froze.
If I’m gone, take the pup to the ocean.
I want him to see the place I loved most as a child.
I bowed my head. My shoulders shook.
Beta Paul stepped in with a grim expression. “Alpha Mirko, the situation is critical. But if we plead this was a terrible misjudgment, not deliberate harm, we can contain the fallout.”
I looked up. “It was intentional.”
Paul froze. “What?”
“I knew she was in danger. I saw the blood. I heard her desperate pleas.“And I still stopped everyone from saving her.”
Paul’s voice sharpened anxiously. “Sir, if we claim
Luna Celia was mentally unstable, we can at least
preserve the pack’s honor-”
I stared at him, hollow–eyed.
“She’s dead.”
“The pup is dead.”
“And you want me to smear her name?”
Shame flitted across Paul’s face, and he switched tactics. “But think of the pack. Think of Sofia and her pup.”
Her pup.
A sharp memory crashed over me–the day at the hospital, the choking incident, Sofia’s hysterics, me rushing with the infant in my arms.
The pup had been tiny, tightly swaddled. Not a single feature on his face resembled mine.
But the driver–the one who was always hovering near Sofia’s room–had looked terrified.
I had never questioned it then. Celia’s suffering had consumed every inch of my thoughts.
Now, details surfaced.
Sofia’s prenatal checkups had always been
accompanied by that driver.
“I hate hospital smells,” she’d said. “He’s discreet.
Reliable.”
I’d praised her for being undemanding.
Late one night, when I went to bring her medicine, I
caught the driver slipping out of her private room.
“Stomach cramps,” Sofia had whispered, eyes red.
“He went to get me pills.”
The driver had kept his head down. Clutching her
shawl.
I’d accepted it. Believed her.
Every ignored moment now felt like a slap..
A bitter laugh escaped me.
Paul frowned. “Alpha Mirko?”
My voice was quiet. “Don’t mention that pup.”
“But he’s yours-
I lifted my head. My gaze was ice.
“That pup? He might not even be my blood.”
Paul paled. “You mean…”
