"I feel so bad for her. Seven moons along... she probably can't bring herself to terminate under moon-sanction."

The poster responded to every single comment.

"So what if she sees it? She's weakened. Seven moons pregnant. If she terminates now, her womb may never quicken again."

"Don't worry about it. My intended says she stepped down from her pack duties for bed rest. Once the pup is past nursing age, he's filing for bond rejection."

"The rejection will be easy. She's got this thing about mate-bond purity—can't stand betrayal. Add the moon-sickness after whelping to the mix, and she'll be the one begging to sever the bond."

The smugness dripped from every word.

She was right about one thing. I did have that devotion to mate-bond purity.

And because my late-term symptoms had been so severe, I'd had to withdraw from my duties within the pack. The strain on our territory resources alone was crushing me.

Moon-sickness after birth? Almost guaranteed.

"Stop being jealous, everyone. The only reason she couldn't conceive for five heat cycles? My intended wasn't done having his freedom yet."

"All those fertility herbs she took? He swapped every single dose for heat-suppressants."

I yanked open my bedside chest and stared at the leftover herbs from my last conception cycle.

Could it be true? Were these laced with suppressants?

I sent word through the pack runners to have the herbs rushed to the nearest healer-den for testing.

Then I sat there, eyes fixed on the glowing marks, waiting for her next reply.

Maybe it was the evening hunt. The poster went quiet.

No matter how viciously pack members attacked her, she didn't respond.

I rested my hand on my swollen belly.

For this pup, I'd endured countless healer interventions. My feet were so swollen I could barely walk across my own chambers.

Because of one unverified mark-thread, I was supposed to—what? Seek moon-sanctioned termination at seven moons?

I couldn't. I wouldn't.

My mind buzzed with chaos, thoughts tangling into knots.

If I confronted Kael now—

Without evidence, he'd just accuse me of pregnancy-madness, the paranoia that sometimes gripped expecting she-wolves.

Then a new comment appeared.

"Stay jealous, she-wolves My intended just prepared me an entire fresh hunt. He slipped away from his Beta duties to share a meal with me. He doesn't have time for you bitter ones."