Chapter 1

Maggie sauntered into the dimly lit bar, her hips swaying with each step she took. She wore a tight-fitting black dress that accentuated her curves, and her long blonde hair flowed down her back like a waterfall. 

Maggie lived in a small town in New York City and was a popular figure as she always partook in the town’s shows and lived a very simple life.

The air was thick with the scent of alcohol and sweat, and the sounds of raucous laughter and clinking glasses filled the room.

As she made her way to the counter, she glanced around the room, taking in the sight of the werewolves and humans mingling together. 

Some were dressed in leather jackets and ripped jeans, while others wore elegant suits and ties. Maggie didn't care about their appearances or their identities; all she wanted was a good time.

The bartender, a grizzled old werewolf named Hank, greeted her with a toothy grin. "What'll it be, darlin'?" he asked.

Maggie leaned against the counter, letting her cleavage spill out of her dress. "Surprise me," she purred.

Hank chuckled and poured her a shot of whiskey. Maggie downed it in one gulp and slammed the glass back onto the counter. 

"Another," she demanded.

Hank obliged, pouring her another shot. Maggie took her time with this one, savoring the burn as it slid down her throat. 

She glanced around the bar again, her eyes settling on a tall, dark-haired werewolf sitting in the corner. He caught her gaze and flashed her a smouldering grin.

She had heard stories about the werewolves in town, how they were fierce and passionate, and she couldn't help but feel a little curious.

She had never slept with a werewolf before, but the thought of it excited her. 

Maggie felt a thrill of excitement course through her body. She downed her third shot and sauntered over to him, sliding into the seat next to him. 

"Buy me a drink?" she asked, batting her eyelashes.

The werewolf chuckled and ordered two shots of tequila. 

Maggie downed hers and licked the salt off her hand, then took the werewolf's hand in hers and sucked on the lime. 

Maggie settled into the seat, crossing her legs and leaning in close. 

"What's your name?" she asked, twirling a strand of hair around her finger.

"Raphael," he replied, taking a swig of his beer. "And you?"

"Maggie," she said, running her tongue over her lips.

The werewolf leaned in closer, his hot breath tickling her ear. "You're wild," he murmured.

Maggie grinned and pressed herself against him, feeling his muscles ripple under her touch. "So are you," she whispered back.

"So,do you dance?" Maggie said feeling a spark of attraction between them

Jake raised an eyebrow. "I'm not much of a dancer, to be honest."

Maggie leaned in closer, her lips brushing against his ear. "That's okay," she whispered. "I can teach you."

With that, she took his hand and led him onto the dance floor, moving her hips to the beat of the music. 

Soon enough, they were swaying together, lost in the moment.

As the night wore on, they continued to flirt and dance, their bodies pressed close together. 

Maggie didn't know where this would lead, but she didn't care. For now, all she wanted was to enjoy the moment, and lose herself in the wild abandon of the night.

The rest of the night was a blur of alcohol, music, and passion.

Maggie didn't care about anything else; all she cared about was the moment, the raw energy between her and the werewolf.

She was free, wild, and alive, and nothing else mattered.

It’s been 3 weeks since Maggie last visited the bar. She woke up feeling strange. She was nauseous and dizzy, and her body felt heavy and sluggish. 

Maggie stumbled out of bed and made her way to the bathroom, where she leaned over the toilet and retched.

After a few minutes, she straightened up and looked at herself in the mirror. Her complexion was pale, and her eyes looked sunken and tired. She brushed her hair out of her face and took a deep breath.

Something was off, she realized. She couldn't put her finger on it, but she just didn't feel like herself. A nagging thought crept into her mind: what if she was preg…?. ‘No’ she shook off the thought.

It can’t be. It seemed impossible, of course. She had always been careful, using protection and taking precautions. But still, the thought wouldn't leave her alone.

Maggie went to the drugstore and bought a pregnancy test, her hands shaking as she tore open the packaging. She followed the instructions carefully and waited anxiously for the results.

When the test came back positive, Maggie's world turned upside down. She sat on the bathroom floor, staring at the little pink line, unable to comprehend what it meant.

She was going to be a mother.

Maggie didn't know how to feel. Part of her was excited, thrilled at the prospect of having a child of her own. 

But another part of her was scared, overwhelmed by the responsibility and uncertainty that lay ahead.

Maggie tried to come to terms with the reality of her situation. She visited a doctor and confirmed the pregnancy to a set of twins, learning how far along she was and what changes to expect in her body.

Days turned to weeks, Maggie still couldn’t recall who the father was. She had several sexual encounters over the past few weeks.

Maggie had always been a free spirit, but now that she was visibly pregnant and single, the small town she lived in saw her as something else entirely.

Whispers followed her wherever she went, and she could feel the eyes of the townsfolk on her as she walked down the street. 

She knew what they were thinking: that she was a slut, a harlot, a woman who had no shame or morals.

The worst part was that she didn't even know who the father of her child was. It could have been any number of men she had been with during her wild weeks at the bar. 

She had always been careful, but mistakes happened, and now she was paying the price.

Maggie tried to hold her head high, to ignore the snickers and stares, but it was hard. She felt like an outcast, a pariah, someone to be avoided at all costs.

She knew that the town would never accept her, never understand her. But she had to keep going, for her own sake and for the sake of her unborn child.

It wouldn't be easy but she was ready to take on the challenge of motherhood.

Raphael sat at his usual spot at the bar, nursing a beer and listening to the chatter around him. 

It was a small town, and news travelled fast. Everyone in town knew who Maggie was, including him even before they had that passionate night together. 

He had heard whispers about Maggie but he hadn't paid much attention to them.

But tonight, something caught his ear.

Two men at the other end of the bar were talking in hushed tones, their eyes flicking toward Raphael every now and then. 

He pretended not to notice, but he could feel their gazes on him.

"...heard she's pregnant," one of the men said, taking a swig of his beer.

Raphael's ears perked up. “Pregnant”? 

Raphael’s mind was racing. He was an alpha leader of his pack, but there was one thing he had always wanted that he couldn't seem to have: a child.

He had tried everything, from visiting doctors to consulting with other alphas, but nothing seemed to work. He had almost given up hope, resigned himself to a life without children.

But now, there was a possibility that he might have a child after all.

Maggie was pregnant, and she didn't know who the father was.

Raphael felt a mix of emotions. He was excited at the thought of having a child, but he also wondered if he was the father. 

He knew Maggie was well known as being carefree and he definitely wasn’t the only one she had sex with over the past months.

Raphael knew he would detect from a distance from her if the child was his and he wouldn’t need to worry. He was also excited by the possibility and couldn’t wait to meet Maggie again.

Maggie was one of the regulars at the bar, always up for a good time and a few drinks, but she hadn't been seen in weeks. They had tried calling and texting her, but she didn't respond. Some of them even went to her apartment to check on her, but she wasn't there

But “Where would Maggie be”? Raphael said in a low tone while holding his bottle of beer.