Claimed by My Bestie's Alpha Daddy novel Chapter 223

The Pack House had always been a center of activity, but over the next five months it transformed into something closer to a living organism, breathing with tension and anticipation as preparations unfolded.

Conversations overlapped in every hallway, deliveries arrived at all hours, and wedding planning threaded itself into the rhythm of the kingdom’s recovery. Staff, pack members, and a handful of volunteers moved through the halls carrying fabric swatches, marked-up guest lists, trays of pastries, and handwritten menus.

I hadn’t even processed the last round of council briefings when someone handed me a folder outlining the political implications of using bloodroot in the floral arrangements.

The resonance inside me still flared when I was overwhelmed, but there was a steadiness to it now, grounded by a second presence that I could feel gaining strength day by day. The baby had stopped being a distant possibility and become a constant presence. Even in silence, the baby stayed with me. My body shifted to make room, and every breath I took was shaped by the knowledge that I wasn’t doing any of this alone.

Simon caught me on my way to a fitting. His coat was half-buttoned and his expression was focused but tired.

“The baby’s healthy,” he said, skipping any greeting.”

Strong. But I still can’t get a clear scan.””Because it’s a hybrid?”

He nodded. “Yeah. They don’t map like wolves or vampires. The scan spells get scrambled, and the resonance is pushing back harder every time I try to go deeper.”

“What about the sex?”

“No way to tell. Not unless we develop something new,” he said, then softened. “But your body’s adapting fast.

You’re syncing with the pregnancy like it was always supposed to happen.”

When I stepped into the hallway, Richard was already there. He didn’t say anything. He just opened his arms, and I walked straight into them. His hand slid up to the back of my neck and stayed there.

“You good?” he asked.

“We are.”

He kissed my jaw and let his hand stay exactly where it was, not moving to guide me anywhere, just anchoring me.

Planning the wedding gave me strange flashbacks. The constant motion, the sideways glances, the sudden silence when I entered a room, it reminded me too much of the mate ball.

I remembered the way my heels cut into my skin, the borrowed dress that didn’t sit right, and the way I kept fiddling with my hair because I didn’t know what else todo with myself. I didn’t eat that night, didn’t want anyone. to think I was greedy. And I kissed Richard in the car before I had a clue what he meant to me, or what I might mean to him.

That night had been about getting through it. This one was about making something real.

We agreed from the beginning that we’d combine vampire and wolf traditions. It wasn’t for appearances. It was because that was who we were now. The colors we chose weren’t decorative. Red meant bloodline. Silver was the moon. Black meant strength. Green meant growth. It wasn’t about honoring customs. It was about building new ones that reflected the world we were trying to shape.

Our rings were engraved in both dialects with a phrase we’d written together: In union, not submission. It wasn’t for ceremony. It was a promise.

Trying on dresses was brutal. Some were stiff enough to make sitting impossible. One had too many layers and vines that tangled at my ankles. Another had mirrored moons lined across the bodice that made me look like | was preparing for battle. But one of them felt right. Silk on the inside, soft structure through the bodice, fitted just under the ribs. I turned in front of the mirror, and I felt it.

A push, low and deliberate.

I froze. My breath caught. I touched the spot with both hands and stayed comptetely still.

The seamstress said something I didn’t register. I just Lowered myself into the nearest chair, barefoot, one hand still pressed to the place where l’d felt the baby. I wasn’t nervous, wasn’t scared, I was stunned.

When the wave passed, Richard lay beside me and didn’t move. His hand covered my stomach, his thumb tracing slow circles. He didn’t talk. He just stayed right there until I could breathe evenly again.

By month five, the Pack House felt like a halfway point between a construction site and a political theater.

Vendors showed up before sunrise. Kids rehearsed ceremonial songs in one wing while florists argued over centerpiece placement in another. I stopped trying to control it all. I just stayed focused on the one part of this that actually felt solid.

The baby moved constantly now. They shifted when I worked too long. They kicked if I skipped meals. They settled when Richard curled around me in bed. I didn’tneed Simon to interpret anything. I could feel it in my spine, in the way my balance kept shifting, in how often I reached for something to steady myself without thinking.

One morning, I stood on the balcony with tea in hand. Fog clung to the garden. The arch wasn’t finished. The wind

– was light but cold. I put the mug down and held my belly.

“You’re already part of this,” I said. “People see me differently now. I see myself differently, too.”

I took a breath and let it out slow.

” don’t know who you’re going to be, but I want you to have space. You get to be weird or loud or soft. You get to take your time. No one’s going to make you earn your place.”

They shifted under my palm, steady and sure.

“This wedding belongs to you as much as it belongs to us.

Every decision we’ve made, every part of it, has been about creating a space for this family to exist. We didn’t inherit a path for this, we’re carving it ourselves. But what I know, without question, is that you were meant to be part of it.”