How Old Is Leo On Lab Rats Novels & Stories

At ten million and eighteen, my steps were very slow and careful, but my heart felt lighter than it had in the days when survival was all we knew. Leo sat beside me, his hand finding mine without looking. His hair was pure white, his face deeply lined with laughter and sun, yet his grip remained warm and sure — the same hand that had cut my zip ties in that warehouse so many lifetimes ago. Ten million years had deepened the lines on both our faces, but they were laugh lines, sun lines, the kind earned from choosing joy over fear every single day. “Ten million years,” he said softly, voice carrying the gentle rasp of great age. “And they still call this place home.”

Julian’s blood hadn't just saved us; it had grounded us. Leo was sitting on a thick, velvet rug, playing with a set of antique brass gears—scrap from his "workshop" that Nevan had polished for him. My son was three years old, yet he possessed a stillness that was unnerving. He hadn't spoken yet. Not a word. Vossen said his neural pathways were too busy processing the "Global Echo" to bother with the primitive mechanics of speech. "Leo," I whispered, reaching out to stroke his dark hair.

He pointed triumphantly. “See?” Sofia rolled her eyes. “You’ve been talking for three straight minutes.” “Only three?” “That’s the problem.” He looked completely unbothered. Meanwhile, Alberto had somehow decided Leo was interesting which was a very rare achievement. Usually my son took weeks to warm up to people but not today…Today he followed Leo around like a curious shadow. “How old are you?” Leo blinked. “Over Thirty.” “That’s old.” I nearly choke and Sofia doubled over laughing as Leo looked personally offended.

Watching Leo. Leo was currently explaining the dietary habits of the ankylosaur to a five-year-old named Marcus, who was not related to the other Marcus and who had the particular expression of a child who has asked one casual question and is now receiving considerably more information than he anticipated. Leo had a piece of cake in one hand and was gesturing with it during the explanation, which meant the information was being delivered with both conviction and structural risk to the frosting.

It warmed my skin as I sat in the window seat next to the open window, watching the two people I loved most in the world with a smile on my face. A small bundle of life with Zeke’s powerful aura and whose eyes were the same color as my fierce green ones was taking his first clumsy, determined steps across the polished wood floor. Leo—named for the lion’s courage we both felt we needed to find—was nineteen months old, a whirlwind of exciting curiosity. Over the past year, Zeke’s guard had considerably dropped. He no longer wore the cold expression of a man who trusted nobody. He laughed more now, his voice rich and unrestrained as he steadied our son’s wobbling journey.

“I do. He has never given me any reason to doubt him.” Atlas smiled. “I wouldn’t expect anything else from him. Do you see yourself being with him until the end of your life?” “That’s a morbid question to ask. I’m only 29,” Leo said. “I guess I do. Even though we’ve known each other for eight years, I don’t get bored with him. There is always something new to talk about and even when we don’t talk, it isn’t awkward. We have a cat together that he agreed to get even though he didn’t like cats at the time.”

Leo said, waving as we walked towards the door leaving the women's mouth wide open. "How did you know that it's a boy?" I asked. "I can sense it," Leo replied. "Weird Alpha stuff, innit?" "So this is the future Alpha," I said, placing a hand on my stomach. "In seventeen years and two months the pack will have a new leader," Leo said, squeezing my hand in affection. I didn't squeeze back, because I was still mad at him, remember? "You'll only be 40," I said. "That's older than most Alphas," Leo said as we walked through the mall. "We need diapers and all that fun stuff now," he added, leading me into another shop.

I just didn’t think that way about it. Leo was one of the other bartenders here. He worked nights to supplement his income while also dedicating his days to training warriors. At 25 years old, he had a tough, rugged exterior with short jet-black hair and piercing grey eyes. Though he was physically strong, his gentle and kind personality shone through in all that he did. Like me, he was a newbie in Midnight's pack, although he had been here for a decade, which made him more experienced.

Leon, who had been quiet, was already suited up in gloves, getting down to the nitty-gritty of dissecting the mice. The others pitched in to help. As key players on the experiment team, they had more than just Helma's trust—they had the chops to back it up. They cranked out the autopsy data in no time flat. The verdict was in: the lab rat had kicked the bucket due to a nasty Glacier flare-up.

"Most of the population of wolves finds their mate at a young age. The lowest is age fifteen but most of the time it is between the age of eighteen to twenty and no one goes past that when you are a normal wolf." I frowned at what he said. He said earlier that Leon should have found his partner last year. Jacob mentioned that Leon's already 24 now so he was 23 at that time. "So, Leon is not a normal wolf?" I turned to Jacob who was a bit confused. I wonder what was their basis for being normal and not normal.