His Defiant Luna and the Secret Pregnancy

Joseline POV:

The morning sun sliced through a gap in the curtains, but I felt no warmth. I woke on the edge of Hayward's bed, still fully dressed, my body stiff from sleeping in an awkward position. The memory of the dream clung to me like cobwebs—the white mist, the black wolf with the silver moon pattern on its chest, its ice-blue eyes, the burning touch of its lips on my neck.

I sat up slowly, my hand instinctively moving to my abdomen. The dream had felt so real. Too real. But it was absurd. A dream. Nothing more. Yet something in my gut whispered that it was not just a dream. It was a warning. Or a prophecy. I didn't know which, and the not knowing made my skin crawl.

A soft knock came at the door. It was Martha, carrying a breakfast tray. "Good morning, Luna. The Matriarch of the Pack, Mrs. Beatrice Kennedy, wishes to see you."

Beatrice Kennedy. Hayward's grandmother, the true power of the Kennedy family. A knot of ice formed in my stomach. The real test was about to begin.

I changed into a simple, respectable dress and followed Martha through long, silent corridors to the manor's main dining hall.

At a massive mahogany table long enough to seat thirty, a single woman sat. Her hair was a crown of silver, her posture ramrod straight, her expression severe. That was Beatrice.

I approached and gave a small, respectful dip of my head. "Good morning, Madam."

Beatrice lifted a pair of sharp, intelligent eyes and surveyed me from head to toe. Her gaze was so penetrating it felt like it could see the secrets hidden in my soul. "Sit," she said, her voice cool and clipped.

The breakfast was a work of art, but the food tasted like ash in my mouth. The atmosphere was so heavy it felt hard to breathe.

Beatrice sipped her coffee with deliberate slowness. Only after she had finished did she dab her lips with a linen napkin and fix her gaze on me again.

"I don't care what family you come from, and I don't care about your past entanglements with Dangelo," she began, her tone devoid of any emotion.

"You are Hayward's mate now. The Luna of Sterling Pack. You have one job."

My hands, hidden in my lap, tightened into fists. I waited for my sentence.

Beatrice leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping to a low, intense command. "You will provide Hayward with an heir. An heir with his pure Lycan bloodline." The way she said 'Lycan' was with a reverence that underscored its supreme importance.

I looked up, shocked. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "But... his wolf soul is trapped. He's been in a healing sleep for one month."

"That is not your concern," Beatrice dismissed with a wave of her hand. "The Pack's medical center has its methods. They will extract what is needed from Hayward. The rest is your responsibility." The Pack had technology that could make this happen.

A chill went through me. They didn't just want me bound to a ghost; they wanted me to be an incubator. A breeding machine.

"Why?" I couldn't stop the question from escaping. "Why me?"

"Because you are the Mate the Moon Goddess chose for him. Only you have the highest probability of conceiving the strongest offspring," Beatrice stated, her tone leaving no room for argument. "And this Pack needs an heir to stabilize it. To put a definitive end to the ambitions of men like Dangelo."

I understood then. It was a political move. A child was the most powerful weapon they could wield to secure the Pack and fight off Dangelo's challenge.

My mind was a whirlwind of chaos. If I refused, I would be cast out immediately. My father's company would go under. I would be left with nothing, at the mercy of Dangelo and Chloe's cruelty.

If I agreed, I would be reduced to a vessel, my life forever chained to the bloodline of a man I didn't love, a man I feared.

But then I thought of the dream. The black wolf. The silver moon mark. The word "Mine." If that dream was real—if the Moon Goddess had already bound us in a way I didn't understand—then maybe this child was not just a weapon. Maybe it was my only hope.

I thought of Dangelo's greedy face, of Chloe's triumphant smile. If I refused, I would be handing them exactly what they wanted. They would celebrate my downfall and the Pack's instability.

A surge of defiance, of cold, hard resolve, rose in my chest. Why should I let them win?

I lifted my head and met Beatrice's imperious gaze. I made the most insane decision of my life.

"Fine," I heard myself say, my voice so calm it startled me. "I'll do it. But on one condition. I want my position as Luna recognized and protected under Pack Law. If the Alpha wakes and tries to harm me or the child, the Elder Council will intervene."

A flicker of surprise crossed Beatrice's features. Then her eyes narrowed. "You are in no position to bargain."

"I am the Luna," I said. "If I am to carry the heir, I want it in writing."

She had clearly prepared a long speech to persuade me, and now it was useless.

I saw my stepmother, Jordan, and my father emerge from a side door. They had been waiting in the wings, ready to apply pressure if I refused. The looks on their faces shifted from prepared intimidation to utter astonishment.

Beatrice quickly regained her composure, a nod of satisfaction. "Good. You are smarter than I thought. Martha will arrange for your appointment at the bloodline continuation ceremony at the medical center tomorrow."

I didn't say another word. I simply stood, gave her a slight bow, and turned to leave, feeling the weight of their shocked, complicated stares on my back.

I didn't go back to my room. I walked to Hayward's.

I pushed open the door and walked to his bed, staring down at his sleeping face. My hand, trembling slightly, came to rest on my flat stomach. This body would soon carry his child—if it didn't already. My weapon. My chains. And my only hope.