Alessia:
A week later, I was finally on my feet.
Slowly.
Painfully.
Every step felt measured, like my body was reminding me that it had not forgotten what it had been through. I kept my hand near the wall as I walked, not because I was weak, but because I was learning my limits all over again.
And though I didn’t say it, even the idea of my baby being a week old felt surreal to me.
The pack grounds felt different now.
Not hostile.
Not warm either.
Just… aware.
Eyes followed me as I passed, some curious, some respectful, some uncertain. I could feel it—the shift. I was no longer the woman who arrived broken and pregnant. I was the woman who had given birth to the Alpha’s child.
Hope.
She was still in the nursery, guarded, fragile, wrapped in layers of protection and care. I was
