A Broken Kitten Figurine, A Broken Unborn Pup Chapter 11

A Broken Kitten Figurine, A Broken Unborn Pup Chapter 11

Zoe threw her tiny body across my chest, shielding me completely. “Mommy! Don’t hit her!”

“I ate it myself! She had no idea!”

Seeing her daughter defend me, Wendy’s rage boiled over completely. I had never seen her look so utterly unhinged; her voice shook with raw, ugly hysteria.

“Zoe!” she screamed, her voice cracking. “Are you going to keep taking her side and breaking your mother’s heart?”

“Did I not tell you? The only way we can move back into the Pack House permanently is if we get rid of her!”

“The second she births a new pup, your title as Alpha heir will be ripped away, and you’ll be left with absolutely nothing! You’ll be driven out of the Pack House! Exiled from the Stagford Pack!”

Zoe flinched violently against me, her shoulders trembling.

I reached back, pulling the little girl completely behind my body. “What kind of horrific poison have you been feeding this pup?”

“She is five years old, Wendy. You are filling her head with terror, making her believe she’s entirely disposable. Do you have any idea how deeply you are destroying her?”

Wendy let out a sharp, ugly laugh. “What does it matter to you? She is my daughter. You stole my mate, and now you want to steal my pup too?”

She reached out, violently ripping Zoe from behind my back by her wrist. “We are leaving! And you are never to lay eyes on her again!”

Wendy stormed down the hallway, dragging Zoe behind her so fast the little girl was practically airborne, her tiny feet scrambling to keep traction on the slick floor.

Terrified Wendy might take her rage out on the pup physically, I stepped

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forward to give chase.

But Zoe turned her head back toward me, as if sensing my panic.

She raised a small, trembling hand, her lips moving silently to form the words:
Don’t worry, I’m okay.

Later that evening, my phone buzzed with a call from Zoe’s smart-watch.

I answered immediately, asking if Wendy had struck her.

“No,” Zoe whispered into the receiver. “But Mommy called Daddy. She told him you deliberately poisoned me with peanuts to kill me. Did Daddy yell at you?”

Blake hadn’t returned to the house in days, and it was highly unlikely he would show up tonight either. Frankly, I no longer cared about his interrogation.

I softened my tone, offering gentle reassurances before giving her a strict reminder. “You have an extreme allergy to peanuts, Zoe. You cannot touch anything containing them ever again. Avoid mangoes too—you have a minor sensitivity to them. And never drink milk on an empty stomach, or you’ll get a terrible stomach ache. Do you understand me?”

A long silence stretched over the line before her small voice returned, laced with pure disbelief. “You… you remember all of that?”

“Of course I do,” I said with a light laugh. “Those are vital things. We lived together for over a year, Zoe. How could I ever forget?”

“Mommy still doesn’t remember my mango allergy,” she murmured, her tone dropping into a dull, flat quietness. “There were mango slices in the fruit bowl tonight, and I had to pick them out myself. And Mommy always cooks with peanut oil. She says Daddy loves it, so I just have to be extra careful not to eat it.”

Blake liked peanuts, but they were hardly a necessity in his diet. The kitchen staff at the Pack House had banned them entirely from the main menu the moment Zoe’s allergy was diagnosed.

Wendy wasn’t stupid. She simply prioritized Blake above all else.

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Hearing the profound loneliness in the little girl’s voice, I offered softly, “That doesn’t mean your mommy doesn’t love you, sweetie.”

“I know,” Zoe replied, her voice eerily calm for a pup. “She just loves Daddy more.”

I fell silent, unable to find a single word to counter the painful truth.

Zoe made a big yawn, her words slurring slightly as sleep claimed her. “On my next birthday, I’m going to make a special wish. I’m going to wish for someone who loves me best of all.”

“Lily’s grandma loves her best, and Steven’s parents love him best. I wonder who will love me best?”

Her breathing smoothed out into a deep, steady rhythm. She was asleep.

“Goodnight, Zoe,” I whispered into the quiet room. “That person will definitely appear.”

Even if, in the end, that person turned out to be her future self. I thought that would be a beautiful thing anyway. Loving yourself enough meant you never had to hand the keys to your survival over to anyone else. It was a lesson I had only recently mastered.

Downstairs, the heavy front door groaned open, followed by the crisp salutes of the guard wolves. “Alpha Blake!”

Blake had returned, draped in moonlight and smelling of road dust.

No doubt, he had listened to Wendy’s frantic accusations and had driven through the night to put me on trial.

My inner wolf and I sat in the darkness, perfectly calm.

We were entirely ready for the storm. We were ready for the Alpha’s interrogation.