LOGINMerriest Christmas and happiest holidays to each and every one of you amazing people! I hope you have the best time whether by yourself or with your loved ones. You deserve the world. ♡ Hope you enjoyed this chapter too hehe x
“Lia, no!” “I can climb it!” “You’re going to fall!” “I won’t!” “You said that last time!” “I didn’t fall that time!” “You literally cried–” “I DID NOT!” “YOU DID!” “Kids.” My voice doesn’t need to be loud. It never does. Three heads snap toward me instantly. And for a moment, there is silence. Suspicious silence. Because standing at the base of the old oak tree, one I specifically told them not to climb, are my three children. All very guilty. All very unapologetic. And all… very much their fathers’ children. “Explain,” I say, folding my arms. A beat. Then… “She started it.” Two fingers immediately point toward the smallest one in the group. Of course they do. I look at her. At the tiny, golden-haired menace standing with her hands on her hips, chin tilted up like she owns the entire Pack lands, and honestly, at this point, she probably does. Aurelia Moretti-Dane-Wilder. Five years old. And already ruling over two future Alpha
I wake up slowly. Not the kind of waking that comes from urgency or fear or pain, but the kind that feels like sinking upward through warmth, through softness, through something steady and safe. For a moment, I don’t move. I just feel. The warmth around me. The quiet rhythm of breathing that isn’t just mine. The weight of arms. One draped over my waist, another resting loosely across my legs, a third presence close enough that I can feel the heat of him without even touching. And the bond. The bond is… quiet. Not strained. Not pulling. Not aching. Just there. Whole. Complete. Alive in the most peaceful way I’ve ever felt it. My eyes open slowly. Sunlight spills across the room in soft gold, filtering through the windows and catching on everything it touches. Skin, sheets, and the edges of shadows that feel softer now than they used to
Graduation day begins quietly, but nothing about it feels small. The sky is still washed in pale gold when I step outside, the air cool against my skin, carrying that soft stillness that exists only in the space before everything changes. For a moment, I let myself stand there, barefoot on the edge of something that feels both like an ending and a beginning, my chest tightening with everything this day holds. We made it. After everything, the pain, the loss, the fear, the moments I thought I would lose them… I am still here. They are still here. And somehow… we are whole. The low rumble of an engine breaks through the quiet, grounding me. I don’t need to look to know who it is, but I do anyway, my lips curving slightly as Harley’s truck pulls up in front of me like it always has. Familiar. Steady. Unshakable. He leans across the seat, pushing the passenger door open without a word,
Walking back into Lakewood Elite feels nothing like the first time I stepped through its gates. The buildings are the same. Sleek, expensive, untouched by the kind of chaos we just survived. The pathways are still perfectly maintained, the air still carrying that quiet, curated stillness of privilege and power. On the surface, nothing has changed. But everything feels different. And I realize why the moment I take a few more steps inside. People notice. At first, it’s subtle. A glance that lingers a second too long. A conversation that cuts off mid-sentence. Someone nudging the person beside them, whispering just loud enough that my name slips through. Then it builds. Heads turn more openly now. Conversations don’t even try to hide themselves. Phones lift, some discreetly, some not at all. The attention spreads outward in waves, following us as we move deeper i
The hall feels too quiet for what it holds. Not peaceful. Not calm. Just… heavy. Like the air itself is waiting. I stand just behind them, my fingers curled tightly together in front of me as I try to steady my breathing, but it doesn’t quite work. Every inhale feels shallow, every exhale unfinished, like my body hasn’t decided whether this is relief or something worse. Because I don’t know how this ends. That’s the part no one says out loud. Not Lance. Not Frederik. Not even the boys. We all know what Salvatore and Gustavo did. We saw it. Lived through it. Survived it. But knowing something is wrong doesn’t mean the world punishes it the way it should. Power has a way of protecting itself. Connections. Influence. Legacy. All the things those men built their lives on. And now Now everything comes down to whether that matters
For the first time in what feels like forever, no one is screaming. No alarms. No collapsing structures. No blood pooling where it shouldn’t. Just the quiet hum of equipment and the steady rhythm of the ocean somewhere beyond the temporary walls of the seaside facility. It should feel like relief. It almost does. But I don’t trust it. Not yet. Not after everything. Not after how close I came to losing them, how close I did lose them, if only for seconds that still feel carved into my chest like something permanent. So I stay busy. It’s easier that way. Easier than sitting still and letting my mind replay every moment where their breathing faltered, where their bodies gave out, where I thought… No. I don’t go there. Instead, I focus on what’s in front of me. On them. Luca is the first one to notice.
ALPHA LUCA I didn’t realize how much I missed her until I saw her name on the resort’s guest list. Alessandra Noone. One line on a clipboard. One little signature scribbled in her messy handwriting. But my heart had practically thrown itself out of my chest when I spotted it. She was here.
After discovering something important and terrifying at the same time about our bonds then running off without a word, telling the boys that I was once again leaving was another story. I thought they would yell, you know, out of shock or frustration, or both. But it didn’t come. Then I thought t
ALPHA GAVIN I knew something was off when I found out Alessi had collapsed out of nowhere. Sure, she could have just been tired, too, but I wanted to make sure it wasn't connected. I needed to. This made me realize that I had been so focused on fixing the bond that I didn’t stop to think what i
It was a dream. But it didn’t feel like one. I was standing in a forest. It was bare, wintry, and quiet. The trees stretched high and skeletal, their branches like cracked fingers against a gray sky. A hush blanketed everything, not peaceful, but heavy. It was still. Too still. My breath c







