Chapter 188
**TWO YEARS LATER**
If someone had told me two years ago that I’d be this happy—this safe—I probably would’ve laughed. Or snarled. Maybe both. Life back then was a mess of blood, betrayal, loss, and confusion. My heart was in tatters, and the world I once trusted had turned on me.
But now… now I was glowing.
Literally and figuratively.
I was full-term pregnant, waddling around the packhouse like a sleepy bear, and yet, I had never felt more beautiful, more powerful, more at peace. My hands instinctively rested over my swollen belly as I walked through Alpha Jeremiah’s garden. The warm breeze brushed my cheeks, carrying the familiar scent of pine, lavender, and home.
Jeremiah’s pack—our pack—had welcomed me with open arms. Not as a threat. Not as someone dangerous. But as their Luna. Their Alpha female.
Jeremiah made sure of it.
And gods, that man… he had changed.
He still carried the weight of loss in his eyes, especially when he looked at Alexander. That grudge hadn’t faded—and I didn’t expect it to. Forgiveness takes time. Sometimes, it never comes. And Jeremiah had lost too much at Alexander’s hands to simply forget. But he’d formed a surprising bond with my mother, Lucy. They spent hours together—talking, laughing. Sometimes sitting in comfortable silence. A shared respect, a deep understanding. Two ssurvivors. My baby brother was two 3 years old now and I loved babysitting Alaric he was our little Prince. I couldn't wait for him to meet his little niece.
And Anna—sweet, fierce, brilliant Anna—was now my best friend.
We had started off on uneven ground, but she had become the closest thing I’d ever had to a sister. She was now the lead pack doctor, working under Jeremiah’s protection and guidance. He treated her like family. And when I told her I was pregnant, she was the first one to squeal and cry and start writing out names for baby showers.
It was surreal—having people. Having friends. Having love.
Jeremiah came up behind me in the garden, slipping his arms around my waist and resting his hands gently on my belly. His touch always calmed the baby, always grounded me.
“She’s been kicking more lately,” he murmured against my neck.
“She’s impatient. Wonder where she gets that from.”
He chuckled, low and deep. “Definitely her mother.”
I turned in his arms and looked up at him, my eyes tracing the lines of his face. “Can you believe it? We’re really here. We made it.”
Jeremiah leaned down and pressed his forehead against mine. “I believe in you. Always have. And now she’s almost here. Irene.”
Her name still made my heart swell. Irene. Our little peace. A name that meant something in a world that once tore us apart.
“She’s going to change everything,” I whispered.
He kissed me. “She already has.”
The night it happened, I woke up drenched.
At first, I thought I was sweating. But then the pain hit—sharp and low, like my entire body was trying to pull apart.
I gasped. “Jeremiah…”
He jolted up like a shot. “What? What’s wrong?”
“My water broke.”
There was a three-second pause where I watched every expression cross his face: panic, confusion, realization, sheer horror, and then love.
“Okay. Okay. We’ve trained for this. I mean—not trained, but you know, talked about it,” he said, already tossing on his shirt and grabbing my slippers. “Clinic. Right. Shoes. Wait, do you need to pee? Do you want tea? Who drinks tea during labor? Oh my goddess—”
“Jeremiah,” I wheezed, trying not to laugh while dying from another contraction. “Just get me to the damn clinic!”
He scooped me up in his arms with that Alpha strength and started running. “On it!”
When we burst into the clinic, Anna was already waiting at the entrance, gloves on, hair tied back, eyes sharp and focused.
“Let’s go, mama!” she called. “We’ve got this!”
The next hour was a blur of pain, swearing, screaming, more pain, threats of murder, and gripping Jeremiah’s hand so tightly I might’ve cracked a bone or two.
“I hate you!” I yelled during one contraction.
He winced but smiled. “I know, baby.”
“This is your fault!”
“Completely.”
“I want you to suffer!”
“I’m pretty sure I already am,” he said, eyes filled with love.
Anna coached me through every moment. “You’re doing great, Astrid. Just breathe. One more push, okay? One more, and she’s yours.”
I closed my eyes.
And then—I pushed.
And pushed.
And then I heard her cry.
A piercing, perfect wail that shattered my heart and pieced it back together.
Anna smiled. “She’s here.”
They laid her on my chest, and time stopped.
Red curls. Green eyes, squinting. Soft, perfect little hands reaching up.
“Irene,” I sobbed. “My baby.”
Jeremiah smiled—as he leaned over me, touching her tiny cheek.
“She’s beautiful,” he whispered. “Just like her mother.”
He kissed my forehead, then our daughter’s. “Thank you. For giving me this. For giving me her.”
I pulled him close. “We gave each other peace.”
That night, the three of us lay in the recovery room, wrapped in soft light and even softer silence.
Irene slept in her little bassinet beside me, swaddled and snoring softly. Jeremiah lay beside me, hand in mine, his other fingers tracing circles on my wrist.
“I never thought I’d feel like this again,” he said quietly. “Whole.”
I turned my head. “You are whole.”
He smiled faintly. “Because of you.”
I kissed his shoulder. “And because of her.”
Jeremiah turned toward me, his face suddenly serious. “Marry me.”
I blinked. “What?”
“I mean it. I don’t want to wait. I don’t want to waste another second pretending like we’re not already each other’s everything. I want you to be my wife. Officially. Luna, mate, partner. Forever.”
I stared at him, tears rising again. “You know I already said yes once.”
“Say it again.”
I nodded, voice thick. “Yes. A thousand times, yes.”
He leaned down and kissed me—soft and slow, like every part of his soul was in it. And I kissed him back, clinging to him, to this moment. Werewolves didn't really prioritize marriage because we had mates once you find your mate that's it his yours just like she is his. So it was actually so adorable that Jeremiah wanted to actually marry me a lot of people could find it unnecessary or so human but to me this was special.
Our past was written in scars.
But our future—our future was Irene.
\--- ---- ----
Weeks later, I stood on the porch with her in my arms, her red curls shining in the morning light. Jeremiah was wrapping his arms around me from behind, his chin resting on my shoulder.
“She’s already got the pack wrapped around her finger,” I murmured.
“She’s a born Alpha,” he said proudly.
“And spoiled.”
“She deserves it.”
I looked out across the field, where Anna and Lucy were setting up blankets for a picnic. Laughter drifted on the breeze.
“This,” I whispered, “is what peace feels like.”
Jeremiah kissed my cheek. “And it’s ours now.”
I held our daughter tighter, my heart full.
For the first time in my life—I wasn’t surviving.
I was living.
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