Chapter 5 — Two Heartbeats

POV: Aria

Ronan does not answer immediately.

His wolf's instinct, he says, is not a command. Recognition gives him no right to choose for me.

The restraint is unlike anything I expected from an Alpha. Perhaps my disbelief is obvious, because he almost smiles. The effort pulls at his chest, and pain crosses his face.

For a moment, the distance between us shifts. He is no longer only Blackridge's Alpha or the unconscious man whose life everyone arranged around him. He is exhausted, hurting, and trying not to frighten a woman who became his wife without his permission.

I still wait for his real answer.

Ronan wants me to stay, but he does not use the provisional marriage, the possible heir, or the mate bond as leverage. He wants to know me while he is awake. If the pregnancy is confirmed, whether it continues will be my choice. He will accept his responsibility without turning it into a chain around my neck.

He makes no promise about the Luna title either. A marriage certificate cannot make me Luna, and neither can fate. That would require my consent, his mark, and the Pack's recognition.

It is not a romantic declaration. Somehow, that makes it easier to believe.

The two-week wait is worse than the injections. My body gives me no reliable answer, so every cramp feels like a sign. At night, I count the days since transfer and force myself to close the search results on my phone.

Ronan does not ask for updates. He has the servants remove every unapproved supplement Eleanor sent to my room and orders the medical team to share nothing without my consent.

We are not intimate. During his physical therapy, I work through Quinn Tech emails by the window. Sometimes I look up and find him watching me. Neither of us explains it. Fated mates sound dramatic in stories. In practice, two strangers are left with caution, curiosity, and too much history that belongs to other people.

The blood test confirms pregnancy.

Doctor Revan says the hormone level is encouraging, but it is still early. The first ultrasound will be scheduled in several weeks. He gives the report to me and does not notify Eleanor.

At breakfast, she sees the envelope beneath my hand and guesses immediately.

She treats the result as Vale succession information. I say nothing. Ronan sets down his coffee and says only, “Mother.”

The table goes quiet.

Gavin gives a scornful laugh. “You truly intend to recognize this marriage?”

Ronan does not even look at him. “Since when does my marriage require your approval?”

Gavin's expression hardens, and he turns on me instead. “She has no wolf. How could she ever become Blackridge's Luna? I'm only saying what everyone here knows.”

I begin to answer, but Ronan's voice cuts across mine. “Apologize to her.”

Gavin insists he is only stating a fact.

His contempt no longer cuts the way it once did. They repeat my lack of a wolf because it gives them a convenient reason to exclude me. Whether I ever awaken does not truly matter to them.

Ronan informs the family that the marriage can be dissolved only by the two people in it. Any decision about the pregnancy belongs to me. Anyone who uses money, family rank, or the Luna title to pressure me will leave the estate.

Eleanor defends herself by invoking his bloodline.

“You activated my authorization early,” Ronan says.

Eleanor's mouth tightens. “The Council approved it,” she reminds him.

“The Council cannot become a father for me. And it cannot carry a child for Aria.”

The words land heavily across the table. Eleanor's face tightens, but she has no answer that does not expose what she did.

Adrian enters the dining room and stops when he sees Ronan sitting upright.

Ronan orders him into the study.

Before closing the door, he gives me the choice to attend. I do.

Cole plays the recordings. I once imagined this moment would feel triumphant. I thought I would enjoy watching Adrian and Celeste exposed. Instead, I am tired. My voice is absent from the first recording; there is only Adrian describing my stupidity as though I were property whose behavior he could predict.

Ronan listens without looking at me. His fingers tap once against the desk.

He does not raise his voice. “You used Aria to reach the center of Pack power. You planned to father a child with her and pass it off as my heir. When she refused, you bruised her. Which part of that is untrue?”

Adrian forces a smile. “It was talk. I never meant to hurt her. The mark on her wrist was a misunderstanding—I was trying to calm her down.”

It is the same method he used throughout our relationship—minimize the harm, then reframe my pain as a misunderstanding.

“But you did hurt her,” Ronan says.

He strips Adrian of every Pack position, bars him from the estate, and forbids him from approaching me.

Adrian turns on me. “Did you ask him to do this?” he demands. I do not defend myself. Every step that brought him here was his own. The years we spent together cannot be used as payment for betrayal.

“You never should have mistaken me for a fool.”

As Cole escorts him out, Adrian shouts that Ronan only wants the heir in my body and will discard me once the baby is born.

My hands shake after the door closes.

“Do you believe him?” Ronan asks.

I do not know whom to believe.

“Then don't believe me yet,” he says. “Watch what I do.”

Over the following weeks, he gives me exactly that chance.

Recovery is not effortless. The first time he walks from the bed to the window, sweat shines at his temples. He refuses the wheelchair until his knees nearly buckle. I kick a chair behind him before he falls, and we both pretend I did not help.

He also begins reclaiming control of the Pack. People wait outside his study until midnight, speaking quietly about the Council, territory, and succession. An Alpha waking after six months does not merely return a man to his family. It destroys positions other people built around his absence.

At roughly five and a half weeks pregnant, I wake in the middle of the night to warmth between my thighs.

There is blood on my clothes.

All the careful distance I kept from the pregnancy disappears. I am not thinking about the Vale heir or my father's contract. I am terrified that the tiny life I have barely allowed myself to acknowledge is already leaving.

I call Ronan's name.

He wakes instantly. He sees the blood, asks about pain, and calls Cole to prepare the car. Doctor Revan is hours away in the northern district and tells us to go to the nearest general hospital.

Ronan's legs are still unsteady, but he comes with me.

During the ultrasound, I grip the sheet and study the doctor's face. She finds a gestational sac in the uterus. The bleeding does not automatically mean miscarriage, but it is too early for a definitive prognosis.

Ronan closes his hand around mine. “Is there a heartbeat?”

The doctor keeps her attention on the monitor. “It is still early, and the image isn't clear enough. Let me check again.” She adjusts the probe, then suddenly stops.

“There may be another sac.”

I turn toward the screen. “Another?”

She cannot confirm it without a follow-up scan, but single-embryo transfers can occasionally split. If the second sac develops, the pregnancy may be identical twins.

Ronan's face goes completely blank.

Only one blastocyst was transferred. On the screen, however, two faint shapes sit in the darkness.

One child would already change the order of succession in Blackridge.

Two might tear the Vale family apart.