DARIAN POV
Stan cleared the kitchen like it was enemy territory. One sharp word, one glare, and every omega scattered—bowls clattering, aprons flapping, doors slamming in their hurry to get out.
I leaned against the counter, arms crossed, trying not to laugh. He looked like a general who’d just claimed victory, the fridge humming behind him like his personal war drum.
When the silence finally settled, I pushed off the counter with a grin. “I’m sharing this recipe with you only because we are brothers-in-law twice.”
He blinked, suspicious. “Twice?”
“Yes, twice!” I jabbed a finger at him like this was divine math. “Because I’m your mate’s brother *and* you’re my mate’s brother. Dub.”
Stan scoffed, the sound halfway between a laugh and a threat. “We’ll see about that. I can’t see a mark
