The Professor's Mate Clause novel Chapter 126

Share

Chapter 126

ADRIAN’S POV

Freya is twelve weeks pregnant when the death threats start arriving.

The first one appears slipped under our door, written in crude block letters on torn paper: “Abomination breeds abomination. Your hybrid spawn will die before it draws breath.” 1

I find it before Freya does, early morning when I’m the first one awake. The words make my blood run cold, protective instincts roaring to life so fiercely that Kael pushes against my control, demanding we hunt down whoever dared threaten our mate and unborn child.

I burn the letter before Freya wakes.

The second arrives three days later, this time mailed to our official address. More of the same poisonous rhetoric, detailed descriptions of violence against Freya and the baby, promises that the old ways will not tolerate this corruption.

Chief Winters brings it to me directly, her expression grave. 1

“There have been four more,” she says quietly. “All intercepted before reaching Luna Freya. All containing similar threats.”

“Six total?” My hands curl into fists. “From the same source?”

“Unknown. Different handwriting, different methods of delivery. Could be one person trying to disguise their identity, could be multiple actors.” She hesitates. “Alpha, we need to increase security. These threats are credible.”

“Do it. But quietly. I don’t want Freya panicking.”

“With respect, she should know. She’s Luna. She has a right to be informed of threats against her.”

I know she’s right. Keeping this from Freya is both protective and patronizing, exactly the kind of decision -making we fought against. But the thought of her seeing those words, reading those threats against our

child…

“I’ll tell her,” I say finally. “But I want security measures in place first. Show her we’re handling it, not just dumping problems in her lap.”

Chief Winters nods, satisfied. “I’ll have recommendations by end of day.”

I watch her leave, the intercepted letter still burning a hole in my consciousness.

Someone out there wants my mate dead. Wants our child dead. And they’re bold enough to put it in writing.

That evening, I tell Freya.

We’re in our quarters, her curled on the couch reading reports while I review training schedules.

Domestic, peaceful, normal. I hate shattering it.

“We need to talk,” I begin.

She looks up, immediately sensing my tension through the bond. “What’s wrong?”

“We’ve been receiving threats. Against you. Against the baby.” I pull out the letters Chief Winters gave me, watching her face as she reads.

Her expression hardens with each word, but she doesn’t cry, doesn’t panic. When she finishes, she sets them aside carefully.

“How many?”

“Six that we know of. Chief Winters believes there will be more.”

“And security?”

“Being enhanced. Additional patrols, better screening of visitors, electronic surveillance of key areas. move to sit beside her. “I should have told you immediately. I was trying to protect you, but that’s not fair. You deserve to know what we’re facing.”

She takes my hand. “Thank you for telling me now. And for already having a plan in place.” She touches her stomach, the small bump just starting to show. “They’re not going to hurt our baby.”

“No,” I agree fiercely. “They’re not.”

The enhanced security takes effect within forty-eight hours.

More wolves patrol the compound perimeter, working in coordinated shifts. Visitors are screened more thoroughly, required to check in with security before approaching pack leadership. Our quarters get reinforced doors, better locks, a panic button that connects directly to Chief Winters.

Freya tolerates it with surprising patience, though I can feel her frustration through the bond. She doesn’t like being caged, even when the cage is for her protection.

At fourteen weeks, we attend our first joint diplomatic meeting since announcing the pregnancy.

Alpha Chen hosts, gathering allied pack leaders to discuss coordination and resource sharing. Freya and I arrive to curious stares and carefully worded congratulations that don’t quite hide underlying concern.

“How are you feeling, Luna Freya?” Alpha Maria asks during a break, her tone gentle.

“Pregnant,” Freya replies with a wry smile. “Tired, nauseated, constantly hungry. The usual.”

“And the baby? Everything progressing well?”

“Perfectly. Dr. Chen monitors us closely.”

What Maria doesn’t ask but we can all feel hanging in the air is the real question: What will this child be? Full wolf? Hybrid? Something new entirely?

We don’t have answers yet. Won’t until the baby is born and we can see what they’ve inherited

That uncertainty makes some Alphas uncomfortable. I can see it in the way they avoid direct questions the careful distance they maintain. They support us publicly, but privately they’re waiting to see if th experiment in equality produces something dangerous.

The meeting concludes without incident, but on the drive home, Freya is quiet

“What are you thinking?” I ask.

“That our child is going to grow up with people questioning their right to exist.” Her hand rests on her stomach. “Just like I did. And I hate that we can’t protect them from that.”

“We can give them the tools to handle it. Confidence. Self-worth. Community that accepts them regardless.” I reach over to cover her hand with mine. “They won’t be alone the way you were. They’ll have us. Have the pack. Have proof that different doesn’t mean wrong.”

She leans her head against my shoulder. “I hope that’s enough.”

“It will be.”

At sixteen weeks, Freya starts showing in earnest.

The gentle curve of her stomach becomes unmistakable, her body changing to accommodate our growing child. I find myself constantly distracted by it, by the visible evidence of the life we created together.