LOGINTimothy's POVLiam called me on a Tuesday morning, which was unusual. We usually communicated through Ethan or formal pack channels; a direct call meant something was different."I need to tell you something before it gets out another way," he said.I leaned back in my chair. "Go ahead.""I asked Isla to marry me," he said. "Last night, she said yes."I stared at the ceiling for a moment, thinking about how impossible this would have felt a few years ago. Now, it just felt like something I should have seen coming."Congratulations," I said."I know how it sounds," Liam replied."It sounds like two people who figured things out."There was a pause. "Isla should be the one to tell Penelope," he said. "I just wanted to tell you first, out of respect."Knowing the weight of our history, I appreciated the gesture. "I think you’re a better man than you used to be," I told him."I'm trying," he said."We all are."Isla told Penelope that afternoon while Jasmine napped. From my office, I hear
Timothy's POVAround nine that night, a storm rolled off the mountains, turning the sky a bruised green-gray and rattling the window frames. Penelope had been restless all day, her movements careful and constant as she tried to find a comfortable position that didn't exist. By seven, the book in her lap was just a prop; by eight, her focus had shifted entirely to the timer on her phone, tracking the rhythm of a storm of her own."Contractions," she said, when I asked."How far apart?" I asked."Eight minutes," she said. "It's fine, we have time.""We're going now," I said."They said to wait until""Penelope," I said.She looked at me for a moment, then looked at the rain sheeting down the back window, then looked back at me. "Fine," she said. "Get the bag."The hospital was a fifteen-minute drive, but I made it in ten—a move Penelope later teased me for, though I have no regrets. The staff were ready for us, moving her through intake and the initial exams with practiced speed. The mi
Penelope's POVNobody warned me that the first trimester would feel like being slowly poisoned.I’d read the books and talked to my mother, who called pregnancy "uncomfortable but manageable." I now suspected that was a lie told by survivors. I was nauseous all morning, exhausted by the afternoon, and hit by intense, specific cravings by evening.In week seven, I wanted pickles and cream cheese on toast. By week nine, it was plain cold rice. At week eleven, I sent Timothy out for a specific orange juice; when he returned with a different brand because mine was discontinued, I just stared at the bottle and cried."I know," he said carefully, setting the juice on the counter. "I'm sorry, I tried four stores.""It's fine," I said, crying."Okay," "It's not fine, that juice is terrible and nothing tastes right and I'm exhausted and I don't know why I'm crying," I said, still crying."I know," he said again. He hugged me and let me cry for a few minutes about the orange juice and the she
Timothy's POV Our third anniversary fell on a Thursday, which meant Penelope had a council subcommittee meeting in the morning and I had two territory calls in the afternoon, and we'd agreed a week earlier to do the actual celebration on Saturday when neither of us would be busy. That morning, I woke up early and watched the light filter through the curtains—a habit I’d kept since the second year. There was no crisis; I just wanted to appreciate the peace. She slept facing me, looking younger than her years. I got up quietly, made coffee, and checked the morning report. Twelve territories were now using the democratic model, three more were discussing it, and trade revenue was climbing. Even the hockey franchise had a new deal that I knew would make Penelope happy. Soon, I heard her moving around.She came out in sweatpants and one of my old Frostfang practice shirts that she'd claimed months ago and never given back. "Coffee," she said. "Counter," I said. She poured a cup and
Timothy's POVTwo years after the kidnapping, I stood in a conference room in neutral territory with eleven other Alphas and watched them vote to adopt the Frostfang democratic model for their own packs.It wasn't just a trial; it was a permanent, binding shift toward accountability.I stayed professional through the vote and the handshakes, giving Elena the quotes she needed for the press. When I finally got to the car, I sat in silence for a full minute. Ethan, who was driving, didn't say a word—he just let me process it."Years ago," I said finally, "Viktor told me the only thing that mattered was strength. That philosophy was just a decoration for power.""I remember," Ethan said."Twelve packs," I said. "Twelve packs just voted to share power with their own councils.""He was wrong," he said simply."Yeah," I said. "He was."Over the following months, we built the actual foundation for this change. We moved beyond ideas and created real infrastructure: leadership training at Fros
Penelope's POVThe hardest part of recovery was the days that looked fine from the outside. I could smile across a council table and follow the agenda and make good arguments about trade policy, and then drive home afterward with my hands gripping the steering wheel too tightly because a truck had pulled up alongside me at a red light and the driver had gray hair and for one fractured second my whole nervous system had screamed Viktor. It wasn't Viktor. It was a man in his sixties with a grocery bag on the passenger seat.I didn't tell Timothy about that one instead I told the counselor on Thursday."You're managing," Dr. Osei said, in the measured tone she used when she meant something more than the words. "But managing isn't the same as healing, are you letting people see the hard days?""Timothy sees them," I said."Your husband isn't a therapist," she said, not unkindly. "He's a resource, not a treatment. The people around you can support you, but they can't do this for you.""I k
Penelope's POVMy phone rings at two in the morning.Selene's name flashes across the screen. I already know what this call means before I answer it.Timothy is worse."He's crashing." Selene doesn't even say hello. "Penelope, his heart stopped again. They got him back but Dr. Reeves says this is i
Penelope's POVI can't sleep.The grainy image from the community rink burns behind my eyelids every time I close them. That figure in the stands. The timing. Ten months ago."We need to stop obsessing," Lyra says, but her tone lacks conviction."Something's wrong." I sit up in bed and grab my lapt
Penelope's POVPractice that morning is torture.Every time I look at Liam across the ice, my stomach turns over itself. He keeps trying to catch my eye. I refuse to look at him, focusing instead on the scrape of my blades against the ice, the burn in my thighs."Focus, Hale!" Coach Reeves barks. "
Penelope's POV "He created the opportunity." The realization makes me feel sick. "He showed up at the rink pretending it was chance, filmed me. Sent the footage to Coach Reeves. Arranged the scholarship. " "And you were vulnerable." Isla's voice hardens. "You'd just been rejected by Timothy in fr







