Reborn For A Mission

Tessa's POV

The house, once filled with laughter and love, now felt cold and empty. I sat on the edge of the bed, my hands resting in my lap, staring at the untouched breakfast Ian had prepared earlier. It was a typical gesture, something I'd once appreciated, but now it felt like a hollow offering.

My heart was heavy with confusion, frustration, and a gnawing sense of something I couldn't name. It wasn't always like this. Ian and I were once inseparable. We'd been mates since we were children, our bond undeniable. The mating ceremony had been a joyous occasion, filled with promises of forever. So, what had happened?

The bond we once shared now felt like a distant memory, fading with each passing day. There was a wall between us, invisible yet so thick that it felt as though we were strangers. Our conversations had become short, clipped. His smiles no longer reached his eyes, and I no longer recognized the man who used to be my world.

I rubbed my growing belly absentmindedly. It had been weeks since I'd discovered I was pregnant. I had hoped, prayed that this would bring us back together. But instead, every attempt to reconnect had been met with silence, indifference, or subtle withdrawal. I was no longer sure if he was even capable of loving me.

The sound of footsteps approached, pulling me from my thoughts. I looked up as the door opened, and Ian walked in. His expression was unreadable, his eyes cold. He was the Alpha-strong, confident, and seemingly impervious to the emotions that tore at me. He smiled, but it was forced, like he was doing it out of obligation.

"I made breakfast," he said, the words too smooth, too rehearsed.

"I'm not hungry," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. The words sounded strange even to me. It had been so long since I'd spoken to him without the bitterness in my tone.

He frowned but didn't say anything further. Instead, he moved toward the window, pulling the curtains shut with a flick of his wrist. The house grew even darker, more suffocating. He turned, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, his gaze softened, but only slightly.

"I'll be busy today," Ian said, glancing at the door. His eyes never quite met mine. "You should rest."

"Rest?" I echoed, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "You've been telling me to rest for weeks now, Ian. What do you think I've been doing?" My frustration bubbled to the surface, the weight of it pressing down on my chest.

Ian stiffened at my words. His jaw clenched, but he didn't respond. A tense silence stretched between us, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air like smoke. I wanted to shout, to scream at him, but all I could manage was a hollow, aching silence.

"You should get some fresh air," he muttered, his gaze flicking briefly to my swollen belly. "It might help."

He turned and left without another word, leaving me to stare at the empty door for what felt like an eternity. The cold emptiness of his words echoed in my mind.

I stood up slowly, my hand still resting on my belly. What was happening to us? To me? The joy I once felt about becoming a mother had turned into a gnawing dread, a dread that something was wrong- something I couldn't name. And every time I tried to reach out to Ian, the distance between us grew.

I walked to the window and gazed out into the pack territory, my heart sinking with each passing moment. The trees stood tall, their branches swaying gently in the breeze, but even their peaceful presence couldn't soothe the turmoil inside me.

Then, I heard it- a soft murmur from outside, a laugh. It was familiar, too familiar.

I froze. The sound wasn't coming from Ian. It was coming from the direction of the pack house. It was Rita's voice.

Rita? What was she doing here? She was my twin sister, someone I'd always trusted, someone I'd loved dearly. But there had been a strange tension between us lately, something I couldn't put my finger on. I tried to ignore the creeping unease that settled in my stomach as I peered through the curtains.