MasukRILEY
The whole apartment turned into a zoo in like two seconds flat. Damien was yelling about lawyers and trespassing and calling it assault, while waving his phone around like he was gonna call the cops right there. Guests were whispering and filming and some lady actually started live-streaming.
Knox was still holding Harley and Hunter like he was never gonna let go, water dripping off him, fangs half out, looking like he was two seconds from murdering somebody. The twins were confused and crying because Mommy and Daddy were screaming and they didn’t understand why.
I was losing my mind.
“Put my kids down right now Knox!” I screamed, trying to grab Harley but she just hugged his neck tighter and wailed, “No Mommy I wanna stay with Daddy!”
Hunter started crying too, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. “Mommy stop yelling at Daddy!”
That hit me like a truck. My babies were crying because of me. Because of us. Again.
Damien kept going off. “Security!Somebody call security! This man broke in and he’s holding children hostage.”
Knox didn’t even look at him. Just stared at me with those stupid silver eyes that still made my stomach flip even after everything. “They’re not going anywhere,” he said super calm, but his voice had that scary Alpha rumble. “They’re mine. You know it. I know it. They know it.”
I wanted to slap him. I wanted to cry. I wanted to disappear.
“Give me my babies,” I said again, quieter this time, voice shaking so bad. “Please Knox. Not like this. Not in front of everyone.”
He looked down at Harley wiping her snot on his wet shirt and Hunter hiding his face in Knox’s neck and something in his face just… broke. Like actually cracked open. His arms tightened around them and he whispered “I just found them Riley. I didn’t even know they existed five minutes ago.”
Damien stepped closer, all red in the face. “I’m giving you ten seconds to put those children down and get out of my fiancée’s apartment before I—”
Knox finally looked at him and Damien shut up real quick. Like mouth snapped closed like a cartoon.
I couldn’t take it anymore. The crying, the phones, the whispering, Damien acting like he owned me. I just wanted everyone gone.
“Everybody get out!” I yelled so loud my throat hurt. “The party's over!! Get out. Get out. Get out!”
People started moving real fast after that. Some grumbled, some kept filming, but they left. Damien tried to stay, saying stuff about ‘we need to talk Riley’.
But I just pointed at the door and said, “Out. Now.”
He looked like he wanted to argue but one look at Knox holding the twins like a mama bear and he left too, slamming the door behind him.
Then it was just us.
Me, Knox, and the twins who were still sniffling and clinging to him.
The apartment was dead quiet except for rain hitting the windows and the twins’ little hiccup cries.
Knox was staring at me like I was about to vanish. “Riley…”
“Don’t,” I cut him off. My voice was all shaky and gross. “Just don’t.”
He took one tiny step closer, kids still in his arms like they belonged there. “I didn’t know,” he said again, voice cracking. “I swear on my life I didn’t know they existed. If I had known—”
“You would’ve what?” I snapped. “Come running? You rejected me Knox. You left me bleeding in a wedding dress in front of five hundred people. You don’t get to just walk back in and play daddy now.”
Harley lifted her head. “Mommy, why are you mad at Daddy?”
Hunter peeked out too. “Daddy said he’s sorry.”
My heart broke all over again.
Knox looked like he was dying inside. “I know I don’t deserve this,” he said quietly. “I know I don’t deserve you or them. But I’m not leaving them Riley. I can’t.”
I laughed but it came out all wet and broken. “You think you get to decide that? After everything?”
He didn’t say anything for a long time. Just stood there holding our babies while they played with his wet hair.
Then I said the only thing I could think of that might make him leave without taking them.
“Sixty days,” I hissed, stepping closer so only he could hear. “You get sixty days to know them. You can see them every day. Then you leave. You sign whatever papers you have to. You disappear forever. Or I swear to god Knox I’ll take them so far away you’ll never sniff us out again. I did it once. I’ll do it again.”
His whole body went stiff. The bond between us was buzzing like a live wire, making my skin hurt. I hated that I could still feel him. Hated that he could probably feel me too.
He looked down at the twins, then back at me, eyes all shiny.
“Sixty days,” he said immediately. “I’ll take every single second.”
I thought that was it. I thought he’d leave after that.
I was so wrong.
Later that night after I finally got the twins calmed down and into bed. They kept asking where Daddy went and if he was coming back tomorrow. I was cleaning up broken glass and spilled champagne when my phone buzzed.
Text from the building manager: “Miss Harper, just letting you know the entire property was purchased this evening. The new owner takes possession immediately.”
My stomach dropped. Another text. This one from an unknown number.
“It’s me. The penthouse is mine now. I’m right upstairs if they need me. Night, little red.”
I looked at the ceiling like I could see through it.
That night I tucked Harley and Hunter in. They were already half asleep, cuddling each other like always. But they were both clutching these tiny black leather vests that definitely weren’t there this morning. Little patches on the back that said “Property of Daddy’s Alpha Pups.”
Harley yawned huge and whispered sleepily, “Night Mommy. Daddy’s upstairs. I can smell him. He smells like safety.”
Hunter nodded, already snoring a little. “Love you Mommy. Tell Daddy night too.”
I stood in their doorway for a long time just crying quietly so they wouldn’t hear.
Sixty days. He had sixty days.
And I already knew I was screwed.
Saturday evening I had a work commitment — a check-in with Yolanda about the preventive work documentation that had been scheduled weeks in advance and that I'd decided not to reschedule, partly because the work genuinely needed the time and partly, I admitted to myself, because I was curious what would happen if I left the two of them alone.They'd been easy with each other at coffee, but coffee was a structured occasion. An evening with no particular agenda was something else.I came back two hours later to find them in my apartment, which I hadn't entirely expected — I'd assumed they'd separate and reconvene when I returned. Instead they'd gone to get food and come back, and were sitting at opposite ends of my kitchen table with the remains of what appeared to have been a genuinely good dinner between them and an ongoing conversation I'd evidently interrupted."Don't stop on my account," I said, getting myself a glass of water."We were talking about the network," Hunter said. "And
Hunter came on a weekend that had been in the diary for two months, which was, in his case, the appropriate lead time for a visit to somewhere he'd never been — he needed to have the trip organized well in advance or he found himself booking it the night before, which produced a different quality of arrival.He arrived on a Friday evening, tired from the journey in the easy way of someone who'd traveled enough to manage travel well, and stood in my apartment with the particular stillness of a twin in a space that has been described but not yet seen."It's exactly like you described it," he said, "and also nothing like I imagined.""It never is," I said.We had dinner at a place I'd grown fond of that had the quality of somewhere good without being somewhere anyone talked about extensively, which was usually the sign of a place worth knowing. He ordered without much deliberation, the way he did when he trusted the person he was with to have done the work of knowing the menu ahead of ti
The question arrived on an ordinary evening, the kind that had become the dominant texture of our life together — dinner at one apartment or the other, the comfortable back-and-forth of two people who'd built genuine ease alongside the genuine depth, neither of us having to manage anything in particular.We were at his apartment, the small sparse space that had softened slightly over the months of our relationship, not through any deliberate redecorating but through the simple accumulation of things — a book he'd borrowed and kept meaning to return but hadn't, a small jar of something from the market that had ended up in his kitchen rather than mine, the particular quality of a space that had been shared enough to carry the sharing in its atmosphere.He was washing up, I was at the small table with the remains of the evening between us, and the question arrived not as a declaration or a formal ask but in the way that things arrived between us when they'd been carried quietly for long
He told me he was going on a Thursday, with the quiet, considered directness that characterized how he told me most significant things."I've been thinking about it for a while," he said. "She's declining faster than I expected. I want to see her while seeing her is still something she can receive."I didn't press for more detail about their relationship, which had always been something he held carefully. I'd understood, from the fragments he'd shared across the months of our conversations, that it was complicated in the specific way that relationships complicated by old harm were complicated — not without love, but not simple, and carrying the weight of things that had happened between them that had never been fully addressed and probably couldn't be, now, with a person whose capacity for address was diminishing."How long?" I asked."A week, maybe ten days. Depending on how it goes."He left on Saturday. I drove him to the station, which was a small and ordinary thing that nonethele
The preventive work began in the fifth week of the season, and what I found in the first sessions reoriented something in my understanding of my own capacity that I'd been carrying incorrectly for years.The pack — small, northern, its formal recognition eighteen months old — had gathered twelve of its central members for the initial sessions: not all in one room, nothing I'd have been able to manage safely even with the new discipline fully in place, but in small groups of three and four, over two weeks of carefully scheduled conversations. Not sessions in the mediation sense. More like extended conversations with a practitioner who happened to be able to feel the undertow while she listened.What I found in those conversations wasn't what I'd expected.I'd anticipated the fault lines — the tensions the pack's leadership had described in their request, the three small disputes they'd identified as worrying, the sense that something was accumulating underneath the community's surface
The case Yolanda brought me in the third week of the new season wasn't a dispute.It was, on paper, a consultation — a recently established pack in the northern region, young in terms of its formal recognition, asking for a read of its own internal dynamics. Not a conflict between this pack and another. A request from inside a community to understand itself better, to identify the tensions and unspoken patterns that its own members were too close to fully see.I read the brief twice, then went to Yolanda."This isn't mediation," I said."No," she agreed. "It's not. It's preventive work. They've had three small disputes in the past eight months — none of them serious enough to require formal council involvement, all of them resolving throughinformal means. But the pattern concerns them. They're asking for a read before the next one is too serious to resolve informally."I sat with this, the shape of the request landing somewhere new."I've never been asked to do this before," I said. "
KNOXOur eyes met, and the desire that I had convinced myself for the past five years that it wasn't there any more, suddenly surged in. Her mouth hung open, tears on the brim of rolling down her eyes.She tried closing the door, but I was faster and used my powers to rush in before she was able to
RILEY*FIVE YEARS LATER* I stared at the new masterpiece I had just finished working on, unable to take my eyes off it and continued grinning from ear to ear. It had taken me just an hour to lain the wolf claw marks onto the Harley engine, but each minute was worth it.Then a familiar memory hits
RILEYMy smile widened with each anticipating moment. Today was the day I would tie the knot with my childhood sweetheart—Knox. Despite all odds against us, we fought through and our love only became stronger. I was looking forward to spending the rest of my life with him.The Blackthorn estate. Th
RILEYDaria came on a Thursday. She was thirty-four, taller than me, with the particular quality of stillness that I recognized because I had it too — the kind you develop when you've been operating without a pack for most of your adult life and have learned to read rooms instead of relying on them







