Now You'll Never Be Safe

Maria’s POV

Something's wrong.

My wolf's voice echoed through my mind as I adjusted the crimson dress for the third time, her restless energy making my hands shake.

Stop it, I whispered internally, smoothing the silk fabric over my still-flat stomach.

Everything is perfect.

The dining room looked like something from a magazine. Forty-seven candles flickered across every surface, one for each month we'd been together casting dancing shadows on the walls. The scent of rosemary and garlic from his favorite osso buco filled the air, mixing with the vanilla candles and the roses I'd scattered across the table.

I'd spent hours preparing everything, down to the playlist of songs from our first date. Tonight, I would tell him about the baby. Tonight, we would start planning our future as a family.

He should be here by now, my wolf growled.

I glanced at the clock. Seven-thirty. He was only thirty minutes late, nothing unusual for an Alpha with pack responsibilities. But my wolf's agitation was infectious, and I found myself checking my reflection again, wondering if the dress was wrong, if I should have chosen the blue one instead.

The red one was his favorite. The way his eyes darkened when I wore it, the way his hands would find my waist before I could even finish greeting him. I needed that reaction. I needed him to see me, really see me, before I shared our news.

"Nothing is wrong," I said aloud, my voice echoing in the empty house. "He's just running late. He'll be here soon, and when he sees what I've prepared..."

But my words died as I moved toward the kitchen to check on dinner. There, scattered on the marble counter where I'd been preparing his favorite meal, were the contents of my purse. My phone, my wallet, my keys, everything I'd apparently dumped out while searching for something earlier.

That's when I saw it.

A cream-colored envelope, thick and expensive, with the Moonstone Royal Pack's seal embossed in gold. It must have fallen from Marcus's jacket pocket when I'd hung it up earlier.

My fingers trembled as I picked it up. The envelope was already open, the invitation inside elegant and formal:

The honor of your presence is requested at the Royal Gala celebrating the engagement of Alpha Marcus Blackwood to Lady Serena Caldwell, heir to the Capital Pack.

The words blurred as I read them again. And again.

Serena Caldwell. His ex-girlfriend. The one who'd broken his heart when she chose pack politics over love five years ago. The one he'd claimed to be over, the one he said meant nothing anymore.

I told you, my wolf whispered, her earlier agitation now making terrible sense.

The invitation was dated three days ago. Three days he'd known about this, and he'd said nothing. Three days while I'd been planning our romantic dinner, buying pregnancy tests, imagining his face when I told him about our child.

The mate bond in my chest, usually warm and