Page 29 of Pregnant, Rejected and Exiled By the Lycan King (Forbidden Alpha Kings #45)

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Rhea

Sunday evenings at the Millbrook Diner had become sacred time, the kind of routine that made exile feel almost bearable.

I sat across from Wayne and April in their usual booth.

The chicken and dumplings April had insisted on ordering steamed in front of me, comfort food I could actually keep down despite the twins’ increasing demands on my digestive system.

“Found a crib at the thrift store yesterday,” April announced, pulling up photos on her phone with the excitement of a woman who’d waited thirty years to be a grandmother. “Real maple, just needs some refinishing work. Wayne’s already planning to sand it down this weekend.”

Her weathered fingers swiped through images of a wooden crib that had seen better decades but showed good bones beneath layers of scratched paint.

The enthusiasm in her voice made my chest tight with emotions I couldn’t afford to examine too closely.

These people had known me for mere weeks but spoke about my unborn children like treasured grandchildren already claimed.

I forced another spoonful of dumplings past the emotion lodged in my windpipe. The thick gravy coating my tongue tasted like safety, like the kind of nurturing I’d grown up taking for granted. Before exile taught me how precious such simple kindness could be.

“You don’t have to do all this,” I managed, though the words came out rougher than intended. “The expense, the effort...”

“Nonsense,” April waved away my protest with flour-dusted fingers that spoke of a lifetime spent feeding people. “Babies need things. Good, solid things that will keep them safe and warm. That’s what family does.”

Family. The word hit like a physical blow, beautiful and painful in equal measure.

These people had absorbed me into their small unit without question, without demands for my history or explanations for my scars.

They’d simply seen need and moved to fill it, creating space in their childless lives for the pregnant woman who’d stumbled into their orbit.

Wayne caught my expression and his own softened with understanding. “April’s been collecting baby items since she found out. Got a whole nursery’s worth of supplies in our spare room.”

The image of April Garrett, a woman I’d known for less than a month, quietly accumulating infant necessities in preparation for children she’d never birthed made tears threaten.

I blinked them back, focusing on the practical warmth of dumpling broth instead of the emotional warmth these people offered so freely.

She’d avoided asking about gender, about paternity, about any of the details that would have satisfied normal curiosity. Instead, she’d focused on the practical necessities of new life, preparing for grandchildren she’d claimed through choice rather than blood relation.

“There’s a changing table too, solid oak. Wayne reinforced the safety straps last weekend.” Her voice carried pride in her husband’s handiwork, the kind of comfortable partnership that came from decades of shared projects.

I watched Wayne nod along, adding commentary about corner guards and outlet covers, and felt the familiar pang of loss for the mate who should have been having these conversations.

Damon should have been the one researching safety standards, planning nurseries, preparing for the children he’d unknowingly created.

Instead, strangers filled the role he’d abandoned through political necessity and personal choice.

The diner around us hummed with activity. Families finishing dinner, workers grabbing coffee before night shifts, teenagers nursing sodas and dreams of escape from Millbrook’s limitations.

Millie refilled my water glass with practiced efficiency, her comfortable bulk moving between tables with the grace of someone who’d worked these floors for decades. She’d stopped asking if I needed anything else, having learned that pregnant women changed their minds about food every five minutes.

“Drink up,” April commanded gently. “You need the fluids, especially carrying two.”

The twins had become real to these people in ways they sometimes didn’t feel real to me. April spoke about them like individuals already, planning for their separate needs and distinct personalities. Wayne had measured twice for crib placement, accounting for the space requirements of dual infants.

I pressed a hand to my belly where movement rippled beneath skin grown tight with their growth. Twenty weeks had brought increasing activity, little flutters that reminded me constantly of the lives developing inside.

“They’re active tonight,” I murmured, feeling the familiar tap-tap-roll pattern that had become their evening routine. For these precious moments, I wasn’t an exiled murder suspect carrying forbidden children. I was just an expectant mother surrounded by people who cared about her well-being.

That’s when I felt the presence behind me.

The sensation started as wrongness, like atmospheric pressure dropping before a storm. My wolf stirred beneath my skin, growing sensitive with pregnancy, recognizing the threat in ways my human senses hadn’t yet processed. The hair on my arms rose despite the diner’s warmth.

Wayne’s entire posture changed. His glass of water froze halfway to his lips, eyes going sharp and alert in a way that reminded me he’d survived forty years in a town that ate the weak. His gaze fixed on whatever stood behind my booth, and the color drained from his weathered features.

“Rhea,” a voice said, and my world tilted sideways.

I knew that voice. Had heard it in dreams and nightmares, had felt it rumble against my skin during the brief time when he’d been mine. Deep and commanding, carrying authority that made lesser wolves bare their throats in automatic submission.

Damon.

My mate stood behind me, close enough that his scent wrapped around me like smoke and cedar, rain and dark coffee, all the markers that had once meant comfort. Now they meant danger, discovery, the end of everything I’d built from nothing.

“Let’s go,” he said, voice rough with what might have been exhaustion or barely leashed control.

I couldn’t turn around. Couldn’t face him yet. Couldn’t process that the man who’d carved me from his life was here, in my sanctuary, demanding compliance like he had any right to make requests.

“No.” The word came out steadier than I felt.

Wayne moved then, shifting to block whatever path Damon might have to me. His beta frame looked fragile compared to the power radiating from behind my booth, but his courage was absolute. April’s hand found mine under the table, her fingers intertwining with mine in silent support.

“You need to leave,” Wayne said, his voice carrying the authority of someone defending their territory. “Now.”

I felt rather than saw Damon’s response, the way predatory energy filled the space around us. The entire diner had gone quiet, conversations dying as patrons sensed danger without understanding its source. Silverware stopped clinking.

“This doesn’t concern you, old man.” Damon’s voice held the kind of casual threat that promised violence if pushed. “Step aside.”

“Like hell.” Wayne remained planted, though I could see the tremor in his hands. Fear and determination warred in his scent, but he didn’t budge from his protective position.

That’s when I realized what this confrontation might cost. Wayne and April, who’d offered nothing but kindness, could be destroyed simply for standing between me and my mate. Their small, precious life could be shattered because they’d chosen to help someone too dangerous to help.

“Fine, just stop,” I said, the word scraping past the glass lodged in my throat. “I’ll go with you.”

“Rhea, no,” April whispered urgently. “You don’t have to...”

But I did have to. Not because Damon had any right to command me, but because these people I’d grown to love couldn’t pay the price for my choices. I’d brought disaster to their door simply by existing in their orbit.

I turned slowly, finally meeting the eyes that had haunted my dreams for months.

Damon looked exactly as devastating as memory painted him, all sharp angles and controlled power wrapped in expensive clothes that couldn’t hide the wildness beneath.

But something was different. Haggard lines around his eyes, a gauntness that spoke of weight lost and sleep missed.

His gaze dropped immediately to my stomach, to the curve that the passing weeks had made impossible to hide. The shock that crossed his features would have been comical if the situation weren’t so dire. He stared at my belly like it contained mysteries he couldn’t solve.

“Wayne,” I said, forcing my voice to remain calm while my world collapsed around me. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The lie tasted bitter, but it was kinder than the truth. We all knew tomorrow was unlikely, that whatever happened next would end with me disappearing from their lives as suddenly as I’d entered them.

Wayne’s jaw worked silently, decades of careful survival warring with the desire to fight for someone he’d claimed as family. “Rhea...”

“It’s okay,” I lied again, sliding from the booth on legs that threatened to buckle. The turn of events left me unbalanced, making movements that once felt natural require conscious thought.

April’s hand squeezed mine one final time before releasing me to whatever fate waited outside. Her eyes held tears she was too strong to shed in front of predators, but her love wrapped around me like armor I didn’t deserve.

“Outside,” Damon commanded, not a request but an imperial decree that expected immediate compliance. “Now.”

“I heard you,” I replied, reaching for dignity I wasn’t sure I possessed. “I’m moving as fast as I can.”

Behind me, I heard April whisper fierce instructions to Wayne, probably planning how they’d help if escape became possible. The knowledge that they’d risk themselves for me made each step toward the door feel like betrayal.

Damon followed close enough that his body heat warmed my back, but he didn’t touch me. Didn’t grab my arm or force my pace, though the restraint felt more ominous than aggression would have. Control that tight suggested consequences if it snapped.

The diner door chimed as I pushed through, cold January air hitting my face like a slap. I’d made it three steps onto the sidewalk before I saw them.

Three black SUVs surrounded the building in perfect formation, positioned to block every exit route. Tinted windows hid their occupants but couldn’t disguise their purpose. Professional vehicles with government plates, the kind of transportation that didn’t appear by accident.

My stomach dropped as understanding crashed over me. Damon hadn’t come alone. Hadn’t made some impulsive decision to track down his ex-mate. This was an operation, planned and coordinated, with backup and contingencies and probably surveillance I’d never detected.

He’d brought an extraction team.

The warmth of the diner, the safety of Wayne and April’s protection, the illusion that I could build something lasting in Millbrook, all of it had been temporary. A brief respite before the inevitable reckoning with choices made in heat and rage.

As I stood on the sidewalk, pregnant and surrounded, I realized my quiet life had just ended with military precision.