Page 9 of Lycan Prince's Secret Baby

Is she stealing something from me?

The realization clawed its way through my mind. Fire seared through me. I clenched my fists tightly as a burst of vindication surged within me. The moon goddess had surely heard my prayers, delivering this night to expose how treacherous Leah was. I’d been right to keep Leah close. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have this opportunity.

I followed her silently under the blanket of darkness. My step was precise and measured. She was in human form, moving lithely. I crouched low and kept to the shadows every time she paused. Her audacity stoked the flames of my rage. All of her diligence and gentleness was about to be proved an act. I clenched my jaw, fisting my hands, my entire body a coiled spring ready to snap.

Leah veered away from the Moonlight buildings, heading straight toward the Blood Moon quarters. A grove of trees loomed ahead, a living wall separating our territories. Their gnarled branches stretched out, shadowing Leah and thickening the darkness around her. I narrowed the distance between us, my instincts telling me to get closer in case she deviated into the trees. The breeze brought her sweet scent to me, and Ithanked the goddess I was downwind of Leah. She wouldn’t trace me nearby. The aroma of food still clung to her clothes, and my mouth moistened again as I scented the faint odor of beef and stock. But beneath that, it was her own floral scent that ignited a fire in my blood. My wolf rose up, the same energy sparking through me as when we hunted, but this time with the unmistakable primal urge that it was hismatehe was hunting.

I struggled to dampen the rush climbing through me.

Leah paused at the edge of the woods, glancing around. The shadows seemed to cling to her. Her watchful glances and strained body language indicated she sensed watchful eyes. I hung back until she moved on.

What have you taken from my house?

Whatever Leah was involved in, I needed to catch her in the act. My heart hammered with anticipation.

My hunter’s instinct soared dangerously close to the surface. I felt my beast mistaking the anticipation running through me for the primal one that dominated him—to catch Leah and make her ours.

His hunger and heat tangled with my own desire to catch her. My focus sharpened, and I stalked Leah onward through the night. I was determined to root out the Blood Moon rot tonight, no matter the cost.

Chapter 5

Leah

I carefully wove around the fallen pine cones, conscious of each step and trying to avoid crunching them underfoot. The scent of yellow cedar and mountain hemlock mingled in the cool night air, a fragrant reminder of the approaching fall.

Behind me, the Moonlight area, lit up like a Christmas tree, felt like a searchlight on my back. A chill crept down my spine. I crept closer to the Blood Moon quarters, my pulse quickening.

Surely my luck is wearing thin.

The thought clutched at me, but my promise to my people kept me moving onward. For two weeks, I had slipped out of Kyle’s home each night; each excursion a small rebellion against the servitude binding me and my people. With each step closer to the wooden cluster of buildings that was our home, my tension eased, yet I remained cautious, painfully aware of the Moonlight patrol roaming the lands. I flitted from one dim corner to the next, minimizing my exposure to the pale glow of the lights.

Our structures had always been built from wood out of respect for the land and the forest’s gifts. Each log had been prepared with gratitude—a connection to Igaluk, who we believed lived on in the walls of our homes. But now, the huts stood indisrepair, the neglect reflecting a community that mirrored its crumbled shell. Since we had been enslaved, the Moonlight Pack had relegated us to these remote structures—close enough to be watched but far enough away that we weren’t an eyesore. Many of these buildings hadn’t even been designed as houses but rather as workshops and storage sheds.

Finally, I approached the cabin I sought. With a glance over my shoulder, I pushed open the weather-beaten door, careful not to linger. The damp, musty scent hit me first, an unwelcome reminder of how little care these quarters received. The confined space held five rickety beds and flimsy mattresses, old bedding, and a few tatty rugs—nowhere near enough to disguise that this place was nothing more than a hovel. Coming from Kyle’s clean, well-kept house, the contrast was jarring.

Yet, as the dim lantern light revealed the familiar faces of the Watson grandparents, my heart lightened. Amanda and Tom were nestled in separate beds, their expressions weary until they recognized me. In the beds opposite, their three grandchildren lay asleep.

“Leah, dear,” Amanda whispered, her blue eyes sparkling. Tom smiled gently, his voice hushed. “I’ll wake ’em.”

A smile crept across my face, knowing that news had reached them that I was coming. My gaze shifted to the sleeping children, and a sharp pang of sorrow shot through me. This was a typical Blood Moon family these days—fractured. Amanda and Tom’s daughter and son-in-law had been lost to the war, leaving the elderly couple to raise their grandchildren. At this moment, my parents’ absence felt like a raw wound that not even the rarest Silver Moon herbs would ever heal me of. But it was this pain that drove me to fight for our people.

The little girl was the first to stir, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Tom cautioned her. “Remember to keep quiet. There’s someone here with a surprise for you and your brothers.”

I hurried over, anxious for the children to stay warm beneath the blankets. In a heartbeat, the three of them were sitting up—two boys, aged nine and seven, and the little girl, who was four. I felt a twinge of guilt as I distributed the meager rations, a handful of chunks of meat each.

The girl took a bite. “Tastes like chicken.”

The younger boy chuckled. “Don’t be a doofus, Mia. That ain’t chicken.”

The older boy’s solemn expression contrasted sharply with his siblings. His face, already thin and worn, reflected a seriousness well beyond his years. I sensed that he was all too attuned to why we adults didn’t know whether to smile or cringe at the girl’s comment. Chicken was the only meat she’d ever tasted because the Moonlights only gave us the cheapest off-cuts. She’d never experienced life any other way—she had only known the life of a slave.

“And does a chicken go oink oink?” Her grandfather joked, coming to the rescue. Tom’s lined face seemed to carry the weight of despair while his eyes tried to impart hope to the children.

Mia’s eyes lit up. “Like the three little pigs?” she enthused, her eyes brightening at discovering something new.

“That’s right, dear. Just like the three little pigs,” Amanda said.

All the children tucked in with gusto. The youngest boy whispered around a mouthful. “This is like a midnight snack.”

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