The peace at the lodge lasted exactly twelve hours.
We were in the kitchen making breakfast. Or rather, I was making pancakes, and Caleb was "supervising," which mostly involved him stealing blueberries and pressing kisses to the back of my neck every time I tried to flip a cake.
"You’re distracting the chef," I scolded, swatting his hand away with a spatula.
"I’m the Alpha," Caleb mumbled against my skin, his arms wrapped tight around my waist. "I’m entitled to taste-test the goods."
"The goods are for the baby," I laughed, pointing to Leo, who was happily smashing a banana in his high chair.
For a moment, it felt like a normal life. No wolves. No Council. Just a family on a Sunday morning.
Then, the perimeter alarm blared.
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
Caleb went from "Playful Husba
