Far from the quiet safety of Adrian's home, Damien prowled through the shadows of the forest, his breath steaming in the night air. His eyes glowed with an unnatural hunger, his claws dragging across the bark of an old oak as his mind raced.
"The first hybrid in centuries…" he murmured to himself, a cruel smile curling his lips. "History thought them extinct. The packs swore never to allow it again. And yet, Adrian, you broke the sacred line. You gave me what I've been waiting for."
He closed his eyes, and in his mind he could almost see the unborn child—a spark of power not yet realized, but already pulsing with promise. Damien's pulse quickened.
"An Alpha's bloodline combined with human spirit… strong, untainted, unpredictable. That child will be more than an heir. He will be a weapon, a key to dominate both wolves and humans alike."
Damien's claws pierced the bark, leaving deep gouges as his voice dropped to a growl. "And you think you can protect him from me, Adrian? From destiny itself? No. That child belongs to me. His strength will flow into my veins, and when it does… every pack, every city, every life will kneel before me."
A cold wind swept through the trees, but Damien only laughed—a sharp, chilling sound that echoed through the forest like a curse.
"Sleep while you can, little mother," he whispered to the night, his eyes glinting. "Because soon, I'll come for you… and for the life you carry."
Adrian—always alert, always steady—was already moving before she finished the sentence. He crossed the room in two long strides, gentle authority in every motion, and gathered Celine into his arms as if the world could only be right when she was held.
She folded into him, pressing her face into the hollow at the base of his throat. "Hug me tight," she whispered against him, voice trembling. "I can't sleep. I'm scared of this power inside me. Hold me."
Adrian tightened his embrace, one hand cradling the small of her back, the other resting protectively over the curve of her belly. He breathed slowly—deep, even breaths that matched the steady thrum of his heart and, beneath that, the soft, comforting thud of Shadow's paws as the dog settled at the foot of the bed.
"You're safe," he murmured, voice low and warm. "I'm here. I've got you. I won't let anything happen to you or our child." He pressed his lips to the crown of her head, then let his forehead rest against hers. The world outside their walls seemed to hush, as if the apartment itself leaned in to listen to the rhythm of their breathing.
Celine drew strength from the firmness of him—the sense that someone built for wildness could be gentle when it mattered most. She let out a shaky breath and began to mirror his slow inhalations. In through the nose, hold for a count, out through the mouth. He counted softly under his breath so she could follow: one—two—three. One—two—three.
"Tell me about the baby," she said, voice small, needing a tether. "Tell me something good—something to hold onto."
Adrian smiled, a tired but true curve at the corner of his mouth. "He already has your stubbornness," he said. "And my terrible sense of direction." She laughed, a sound that broke some of the tightness in her chest. "He's stubborn and stubbornly loved. That's a good start."
He hummed quietly, an old, wordless melody he'd heard as a child, and Celine imagined tiny lungs in her belly matching that silent refrain. The steady pressure of his hand over hers felt like a promise: protection, presence, refusal to let fear take root.
After a few minutes, she felt the buzz of adrenaline finally ebb. Her eyelids grew heavy. "Stay," she whispered.
"Always," Adrian answered, sealing the word with a soft kiss to her temple. He shifted until she was comfortable, tucking a blanket around them both. Shadow rested his muzzle on her feet, the animal's warmth a final reassurance.
Celine's breathing slowed further, matching Adrian's cadence. Sleep—real, recovering sleep—wrapped around her like a shawl. Before she slipped away she heard him, barely audible: "Dream of the life we'll give him. I'll be here when you wake."
And in the safety of his arms, with his heartbeat and Shadow's gentle breathing as a lullaby, she let sleep take her.
After some while he also fell asleep and he had a strange dream,
Adrian awoke in a cold sweat, heart pounding. Even though he had read the prophecy countless times, even though he had explained it to Celine, the dream felt different—more urgent, more alive.
He was standing in a forest under a blood-red moon, mist curling around his feet. Shadow sat silently beside him, ears alert, eyes glowing faintly. Then, a voice echoed through the trees—a voice deep and ancient, carrying the weight of centuries.
"From the union of wolf and human shall be born a child…
Marked by the ancients, touched by fate…
The balance of worlds shall rest in their hands.
Heed this warning, for power will awaken,
And those who seek to claim it shall clash with destiny."
Adrian turned sharply.Thewords repeated, over and over, but this time, the air around him shimmered, and he could feel a surge of energy—the hybrid's power awakening even before birth.
Then a figure appeared in the distance: Damien. His eyes glowed crimson, and a cruel grin stretched across his face. "So… the child is coming. Soon, everything will be mine."
Adrian's claws instinctively flexed, his wolf senses flaring. "Not while I breathe," he growled into the night, voice echoing through the forest.
Suddenly, the wind howled, and the child's faint cry reached him, piercing and commanding, carrying a power he had never felt before. Adrian's eyes widened. Even knowing the prophecy, even prepared, he felt the weight of destiny pressing down on him.
He woke up gasping, hands trembling, and knew one thing with certainty: the Chosen One's arrival would change everything… and the battle had already begun, even in dreams.
The first light of dawn slipped quietly through the curtains, brushing the room in soft gold. Adrian stirred before the world had fully woken, careful not to disturb Celine's sleep. He eased himself from the bed, his movements silent, and padded toward the kitchen.
A few minutes later, the soft clink of glass echoed as he poured fresh milk, letting it warm just enough to soothe her. He carried it back to the bedroom and set it gently on the nightstand.
He looked at her then—still curled beneath the blanket, her face peaceful but faintly tired, the weight of their secret carried even in sleep. His chest tightened with a fierce tenderness. He bent and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, whispering, "Rest a little longer, love."
Moving again, he slipped into the bathroom. He turned the tap until the water was just right—warm, comforting, not too hot. The sound of the water filled the quiet apartment, steady and calm, as steam curled softly into the air. He tested it with his palm, nodding to himself with quiet satisfaction.
When everything was ready, he returned to her side and knelt, his voice low and gentle. "Celine… wake up, sweetheart. I've brought you some milk, and your bath is ready. Warm water to ease the morning."
Her eyes fluttered open slowly, adjusting to the light, and when she saw him kneeling there with that mixture of strength and softness, a small, sleepy smile curved her lips. "Adrian…" she whispered, touched by the care in every detail.
"Come," he said, helping her sit up carefully and passing her the glass. "You need to keep your strength. Both of you." His hand brushed her belly as he said it, and she felt that same protective warmth that had carried her through the night.
Celine took slow sips of the warm milk, letting its calm settle her nerves. When she finished, Adrian set the glass aside and scooped her gently into his arms.
"Adrian, I can walk," she protested softly, though her head rested easily against his shoulder.
"I know," he replied with a small smile, carrying her toward the bathroom, "but you don't have to."
The bathroom was already filled with a delicate mist, the faint scent of lavender rising from the warm water he had prepared. Adrian set her down carefully by the tub and steadied her as she stepped in. The warmth enveloped her instantly, drawing a sigh from her lips.
"Feels good?" he asked, crouching at her side, golden eyes watching her with quiet devotion.
Celine leaned back, her hands smoothing across her belly as ripples danced in the water. "Yes… it's perfect," she whispered. "Sometimes it's hard to believe you think of every detail."
Adrian chuckled softly, dipping a cloth into the warm water and wringing it out before running it gently across her shoulders. "It's not hard. Taking care of you is the only thing that matters to me."
She closed her eyes, letting the warmth soak into her skin, but her thoughts didn't stay quiet for long. "Adrian," she said hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Do you ever… imagine what it will be like? When the baby is here?"
Adrian stilled, then his hand rested over hers on her stomach. "Every day," he admitted. "I imagine holding him for the first time. I imagine him growing strong, running through the forest, unafraid because he'll know we're always there. I imagine you smiling, watching him… our family whole."
Tears pricked Celine's eyes, but they were warm tears, filled with longing and love. "That sounds beautiful," she said softly. "I want that future."
Adrian leaned closer, pressing a kiss to her damp forehead. "It will be ours," he whispered, steady and sure. "No matter what Damien tries, no matter what shadows come—we'll protect that future together."
Celine nodded, her heart swelling with both hope and fear, but in that moment, wrapped in warmth and Adrian's quiet strength, she believed him.
After her bath, Celine wrapped herself in a soft robe. Adrian helped her back to the bedroom, then guided her to sit by the window where the sunlight had begun to spill across the floor.
"Stay here," he said gently. "I'll bring breakfast."
Before she could protest, he was gone, moving with that quiet, purposeful stride of his. The sounds of the kitchen soon followed—clattering dishes, the faint crackle of something sizzling. Celine smiled faintly to herself, brushing a hand over her belly.
When Adrian returned, he carried a small tray: slices of fruit arranged neatly, scrambled eggs, warm bread, and another glass of milk. He set it before her with care, then sat down at her side.
"You didn't have to make all this," Celine said, though her eyes softened as she reached for a piece of apple.
"I did," Adrian countered with a smirk. "You're carrying my child. You deserve better than just a glass of milk."
She laughed lightly, the sound filling the room with something warmer than sunlight. "You're spoiling me."
"Good," he replied simply, watching her eat with quiet satisfaction. "Get used to it."
They ate together, and for a few moments, the heaviness of Damien and his threats faded away. It was just the two of them, sharing food, exchanging smiles.
Between bites, Celine tilted her head curiously. "Adrian… do wolves even eat scrambled eggs?"
Adrian gave her a mock-offended look. "I live among humans, don't I? I've learned to adapt. Besides"—his lips curved into a teasing grin—"it's you I enjoy watching eat."
Her cheeks warmed, and she swatted at him with a laugh. "You're impossible."
He caught her hand midair and kissed her knuckles softly. "Maybe. But I'm yours."
The words hung between them, simple but carrying a promise deeper than any vow. For that morning, at least, the world outside didn't matter. There was only the warmth of food, laughter, and the fragile but fierce love growing stronger between them.
When they had finished eating, Celine leaned back against the chair by the window, her hand resting gently over her stomach. The sunlight caught in her hair, and for a moment Adrian just sat there, watching her as though she were the most breathtaking thing he had ever seen.
She noticed his gaze and gave him a small, playful smile. "What are you thinking about?"
Adrian tilted his head, his eyes soft but serious. "Names."
"Names?" she repeated, brows lifting in surprise.
"For the baby," he clarified. "I've been thinking about it. He deserves a name with meaning. A name that carries strength, but also peace."
Celine's lips curved into a thoughtful smile. "You've really been thinking about this?"
"Every night," Adrian admitted, his hand covering hers on her belly. "Do you want to hear the one I keep coming back to?"
She nodded eagerly.
"Aric," Adrian said softly. "It means strength, authority, and enduring leadership — someone who leads not only with power, but with wisdom and steadiness."
Celine's heart swelled at the tenderness in his voice. She repeated the name quietly, as though testing how it felt in her mouth. "Aric…" A smile bloomed on her face. "It's beautiful."
Adrian's eyes searched hers. "And you? Do you have a name in mind?"
Celine hesitated, then laughed softly. "I was thinking of something simpler. Like Valen. But Aric… it feels special."
Adrian leaned in, his forehead brushing gently against hers. "Then Aric it will be."
Her chest tightened with emotion. "You already sound so certain, Adrian. What if… what if it's a girl?"
He chuckled softly. "Then I'll be completely lost. You'll have to choose."
Celine laughed, the sound bubbling with warmth. "I'll hold you to that."
For a moment, silence settled between them again—but it wasn't heavy this time. It was warm, filled with possibilities.
"Adrian?" Celine whispered.
"Yes?"
She turned her head to look at him, her eyes shimmering. "Do you ever wonder… what kind of life we'll have after all of this? If Damien disappears, if the fighting stops… what will our future look like?"
Adrian's eyes softened, his thumb stroking the back of her hand. "I think about it every day. I imagine us in a quiet home, far from the city. Woods close enough for me to run when I need to, a garden for you to sit and read in. And Aric—or our daughter—playing between us. No shadows, no fear. Just us. Just family."
Celine leaned against him, tears pricking her eyes but her smile soft. "That sounds perfect."
Adrian kissed her hair, holding her close. "It will be. I'll make sure of it."