After My Mate Poisoned Our Pup

The numbers didn't add up.

I sat in the small office off the pack house library, five months pregnant and determined to finish the quarterly resource audit before my belly made sitting at a desk impossible. Luna duties didn't pause for pregnancy. If anything, the pack expected more—more visibility, more warmth, more proof that their future Alpha heir was being carried by someone worthy of the title.

I was happy to give it. I loved Ironveil. I loved its people. I loved the life Tate and I were building together.

But the ledger in front of me had a problem.

I ran my finger down the column again, checking my work. Substantial funds—enough to fund a new training facility or a full medical wing upgrade—had been routed through an authorization code I didn't recognize. The notation read: "Private Alliance Investment – Scott, Ashwood."

Scott. Ashwood Pack.

I frowned. Tate had never mentioned an alliance with Ashwood. We'd talked about alliances constantly in the early months of our bond—which packs to strengthen ties with, which relationships needed careful handling. Ashwood had never come up.

My wolf stirred uneasily in my chest. Not a warning exactly. Just... awareness. The way you feel when you walk into a room and realize the conversation stopped the moment you arrived.

I pulled out my phone and photographed the pages. Three separate transfers over the last eight months. All substantial. All authorized by the same code.

I closed the ledger carefully and stacked it with the others. My hand drifted to my belly—an unconscious habit I'd developed lately, as if touching the swell could reassure both of us that everything was fine.

Everything was fine.

I was Luna of a strong pack. I was carrying the future Alpha. My mate was devoted and attentive. The Moon Goddess had blessed me with exactly the life I was meant to live.

So why did my wolf keep circling that unease like a scent she couldn't place?

I found Tate in our shared study that evening, reviewing patrol reports at his desk. He looked up when I entered and smiled—the warm, easy smile that had made me fall for him in the first place.

"Hey," he said, setting the reports aside. "How's our little warrior?"

He always asked about the baby first. It made my heart soften every time.

"Active," I said, moving to stand beside his chair. "I think he's training for Alpha challenges already."

Tate laughed and reached out to place his hand on my belly, his palm warm through the fabric of my dress. "That's my boy."

I let the moment settle before I spoke again. Casual. Just a question.

"I was finishing the resource audit today," I said. "There's a line item I didn't recognize. An alliance investment with the Scott family from Ashwood?"

Tate's hand stayed exactly where it was. His expression didn't change. He looked up at me with steady, warm eye contact—the kind of eye contact that said he had nothing to hide.

"Oh, that," he said easily. "Long-term pack investment strategy. My father set it up before I took over as Alpha. It's been running in the background for years."

His voice carried no hesitation. No defensiveness. Just calm explanation.

"I don't remember you mentioning it," I said.

He squeezed my belly gently, affectionately. "Because it's boring infrastructure stuff, love. The kind of thing that happens on autopilot. I should have briefed you on it when you took over the Luna audits—that's on me."

He stood, wrapping his arms around me from behind, his chin resting on my shoulder. His scent—pine and rain—wrapped around me like it always did. Familiar. Safe.

"I'll pull the full documentation tomorrow," he murmured against my hair. "Walk you through the whole structure. I want you to understand every piece of how this pack runs."

I leaned back into him. "Okay."

"Okay," he echoed, pressing a kiss to my temple.

I said nothing more. I accepted his explanation outwardly, let him hold me, let the moment feel like what it was supposed to be.

But inwardly, I noticed something I had never noticed before.

His eye contact had been slightly too steady. Slightly too deliberate. Like someone who had learned that looking away reads as guilt and had overcorrected.

My wolf circled that observation carefully, quietly, the way you circle a scent that doesn't belong.

I said nothing.

But I began to watch.