DEREK
The sun hadn’t even fully cleared the tree line when I was up, boots on, keys in hand. I’d barely slept—not because I was restless, but because I was… eager.
Which was new.
I’d never been a morning person. I wasn’t the guy who whistled while putting on a shirt or drank black coffee with a grin. But today? Today I had plans.
Aiden had a physical therapy session at Moonstone, and he’d asked me—pointed at me with that serious little face of his—and said, “I want you to come, Dad.”
Dad.
Still floored me. Still hit with a kind of weight I didn’t know how to carry yet.
I was halfway to the door when a knock sounded behind me. A courier stood there with a pallet cart, a clipboard, and an industrial crate the size of a damn wolf.
“Delivery for Alpha Derek King,” he said, handing over
