Todos los capítulos de The Alpha's Forgotten Luna: Capítulo 11 - Capítulo 20

The real labor began two weeks after the false alarm, in the deep hours of the night, and it left no room for doubt about what was happening this time. Wren woke to pain unlike anything she'd felt before, sharp and cresting in waves that stole the breath from her lungs. She had barely managed to call out before Ronan was through the door, and within minutes the entire pack house seemed to wake around her, lamps flaring to life down every hallway, voices calling for Callum, for hot water, for every experienced healer Silverpeak had within its walls. "This is it," Callum confirmed, hands moving with brisk efficiency even as his old face carried a tension Wren hadn't seen from him before. "The real thing, and moving fast. Given the multiples, I expect this won't take as long as a usual labor, but I also expect it to be considerably harder on your body. I need you to trust me, and I need you to fight." "I can do that," Wren

By the time the quadruplets turned five, they had grown into four distinct small people, each carrying pieces of the family that had raised them so fiercely. Elara was, as everyone had predicted from her very first furious cry, utterly fearless — the first to climb the tallest tree, the first to demand a turn at sparring with her uncles, the first to declare, at the tender age of four, that she intended to be Alpha of something someday, though she hadn't yet decided what. Magnus, her twin, was quieter and steadier, the one who noticed when his siblings were upset before anyone else did, already showing flashes of the same calm, careful leadership his grandfather and uncle Ronan carried so naturally. Vera remained determined to the point of stubbornness, refusing help with anything she believed she could manage herself, though she managed remarkably many things for a five-year-old through sheer persistence alone. And young Callum, gentle and endlessly curious, ha

The trouble started on the second day of the summit, during the formal trade negotiations, when a Beta from one of the smaller northern packs collapsed mid-sentence at the long central table, his body seizing violently before anyone could reach him. Chaos erupted instantly. Healers from a dozen different packs surged forward at once, shouting over each other, none of them quite agreeing on what they were looking at. Wren was three seats away, deep in quiet conversation with Ronan about grain tariffs, when the commotion reached her — and some old, sharpened instinct, honed over five years of healing work, had her moving before her conscious mind had fully caught up. "Move," she said, and something in her voice carried enough authority that the crowd of panicking healers actually parted for her. She dropped to her knees beside the convulsing man, pressing two fingers to his throat, feeling for a pulse that stuttered and raced beneath her

"You told him," Ezra said, pacing the length of their private summit quarters like a caged animal, "that there are four of them. Four, Wren. After everything he did." "I told him the truth," Wren said, exhausted, sinking into a chair by the cold hearth. "He was one servant's careless comment away from finding out regardless. I would rather control how he learned it than have him piece it together on his own and show up at Silverpeak's gates uninvited." "She's right," Ronan said quietly, arms crossed, though the tightness in his jaw betrayed how little he liked the situation either. "Better this way. On our terms, in a place we control, surrounded by family. Not at home, where he could arrive with an army at his back and call it a diplomatic visit." "He wouldn't," Wren said, though even she heard the uncertainty in her own voice. "You don't know what he would or wouldn't do anymore," Ezra snapped, the

Kane arrived at midday, freshly dressed but visibly exhausted, dark circles under his eyes that spoke of a sleepless night spent, Wren suspected, turning over every possible way this meeting could go wrong. He stood at the entrance to the small private garden Wren had chosen for the occasion — neutral ground, away from the nursery's lingering unease, somewhere the children could run and play without the weight of the previous night's violence pressing too close. "You came," Wren said, watching him hover uncertainly at the garden gate like a man unsure whether he'd actually been invited or simply hadn't been told to stay away. "I said I would," Kane said. "I meant it." Ronan stood a few careful paces back, arms crossed, present but deliberately quiet — Wren had insisted on that much, at least, a compromise between her brothers' protective instincts and her own desire to let this meeting unfold without an audie