Free Web NovelChapter 140: Chapter 140
I stared at my phone screen, reading the message for the third time. My blood felt like ice water.
Christian’s entire body had gone rigid beside me, his Alpha energy practically crackling in the air. "I’m going to find whoever sent this and—"
"Christian." I placed my hand on his arm. "Look at the message again. It’s vague. Generic. Someone’s just trying to scare us after we won at the council."
"They threatened our baby."
"They made a creepy comment about hoping our baby is healthy. That’s not really a threat, it’s just... gross and intimidating." I took a breath. "We will show this to Marcus and Diana tomorrow, implement some security stuff, and then we won’t let it steal our joy. Okay?"
Christian looked like he wanted to argue but finally nodded tightly. "Okay. But if anything else happens—"
"Then we deal with it. Together."
The next morning, Marcus and Diana reviewed the message in Christian’s office. Marcus suggested security upgrades. Diana reminded everyone that stress was bad for the baby. And I firmly stated that I refused to live in fear over some anonymous coward’s attempt at intimidation.
We agreed on basic precautions and moved on.
A week later, with no further incidents, Christian and I stood in the empty room next to our bedroom. The future nursery.
"So this is happening," I said, looking at the space currently full of random boxes and old furniture.
"This is happening." Christian had a measuring tape and looked slightly terrified. "We need a crib, changing table, rocking chair..."
"And we’re doing this ourselves?"
"As much as possible." His jaw set stubbornly. "I want to build things for our baby. With my hands."
My heart melted a little. "Okay. But first, we need paint."
The hardware store paint section was overwhelming. Hundreds of tiny color squares, all with ridiculous names like "Meditation Moss" and "Whispering Wheat."
Christian kept gravitating toward blues and greens. I pushed for more neutral options.
"We don’t know whether it’s a boy or girl yet," I argued, holding up a soft yellow swatch.
"So? Boys can like yellow."
"And girls can like blue. That’s my point. Let’s do something we both love regardless of the baby’s gender."
We debated for thirty minutes. I’m pretty sure the store employee was considering banning us.
Finally, Christian held up a soft sage green. "What about this?"
I looked at it. Peaceful. Calming. Perfect. "Yes. That one."
Back at Shadow Ridge, Marcus helped Christian move furniture while Diana and I taped off trim and laid drop cloths. Elder Margaret appeared with sandwiches and lemonade, fussing over me like I might collapse at any moment.
"I’m pregnant, not dying," I told her, accepting the food anyway.
"You’re carrying precious cargo." She patted my barely-there bump. "Let the boys do the heavy work."
When the room was finally empty and ready, I felt a surge of excitement. This was real. We were making a space for our baby.
Christian and I painted together, both wearing old clothes that quickly became covered in sage green splatters. He was careful and methodical with the roller. I did the detail work around the windows.
"What do you think they’ll be like?" I asked, painting around a window frame.
"Hopefully they get your personality and not mine."
"What’s wrong with your personality?" freeweɓnovel.cѳm
"I’m broody and overprotective."
"You’re loyal and caring." I turned to look at him. "Our kid would be lucky to have your—"
A paint-loaded brush dabbed my nose.
I stared at Christian in shock. He was trying not to smile.
"Oh, you’re dead." I dipped my brush and went for his face.
We ended up in a paint fight that left us both covered in green splatters and laughing like idiots. The nursery looked good, though, slowly transforming into a peaceful space.
While the paint dried, Diana arrived with an armful of books.
"Luna pregnancy guides," she explained, stacking them on the floor. "Werewolf child development. What to expect when your baby might have supernatural abilities. Light reading."
I looked at the stack, feeling slightly overwhelmed. "There’s a lot to learn, huh?"
"You’ll be fine. Just take it one Chapter at a time."
That evening over dinner, Marcus started telling embarrassing stories of Christian that he told him.
"He was five," Marcus said, grinning. "Trying to shift for the first time. Got stuck halfway and ran around the pack house looking like a weird wolf-boy hybrid, howling for his mom."
I nearly choked on my water from laughing.
Christian’s face was bright red. "Marcus, I swear to God—"
"And when he was sixteen? Tried to be all mysterious and brooding. Just looked constipated most of the time."
"I hate you," Christian muttered, but I could see him fighting a smile.
"More stories," I demanded. "I need to know everything."
Marcus obliged. By the end of dinner, I’d learned about Christian’s awkward teenage years, his failed attempts at looking cool, and the time he got his head stuck in the stairway railing at age seven.
Christian looked mortified. I was in love with every story.
The next day, Christian set up a workspace in the garage with wood and tools. He was building the baby furniture himself—all of it.
"Are you sure you don’t want help?" Marcus asked.
"I need to do this myself." Christian’s voice was firm. "For my kid."
I watched him work from the doorway and saw the intense focus on his face as he measured and cut wood. This was how Christian showed love—through actions, through creating something with his hands.
A few days later, Diana announced parenting classes.
"Several pack members are expecting or want to learn," she explained. "Basic baby care, werewolf-specific issues, first shift preparation."
My stomach flipped nervously. "What if I look stupid in front of everyone?"
