Chapter 22
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Lina
Day two in Noah’s house felt like prison with better furniture and werewolf guards. The twins were going stir-crazy, and honestly, so was I. Being trapped in a stranger’s house in a town full of actual werewolves wasn’t exactly my idea of a relaxing vacation.
“Mama, can we go outside?” Thea whined for what had to be the hundredth time, pressing her face against the window until her nose left smudges on the glass. “Please? We’ll be good!”
“Not yet, baby,” I said, trying to sound reasonable instead of paranoid.
Outside, two wolves trotted down the street. Just another day in Ravenshollow where werewolves grabbed their mail in wolf form and nobody blinked twice.
My phone buzzed again, adding to the symphony of notifications I’d been ignoring all morning. With a sigh, I finally checked the damage.
Sarah: “Emergency??? Is everything okay?? The kids?? LINA ANSWER YOUR PHONE”
Mika: “Boss, the shop is fine but WHERE ARE YOU? Also Mrs. Patterson says if you’re dead she’s switching to the inferior coffee place on Main”
Vivi: “Lina this isn’t like you. Call me!!! Also I stress-baked twelve dozen cupcakes please come back before I drown in buttercream”
Sarah again: “Tyler’s mother is telling everyone you ran off with a man. I told her to mind her business but CALL ME”
Great. Just great. Pine Valley’s gossip mill was working overtime.
I typed back carefully, crafting lies that tasted bitter: “Family emergency upstate. Kids are with me. Back soon. Shop is in good hands.”
To Sarah specifically: “Not dead. Not eloping. Will explain when I get back.”
My own senses were driving me insane, flickering between normal and supernatural like a broken radio.
One second I could hear someone’s TV three houses down playing what sounded like a cooking show where someone was dramatically failing at making soufflé, the next I was back to normal human hearing, then suddenly I could detect a bird I couldn’t even see.
No control, just random bursts of too much information that made my head spin.
Knox hovered nearby, pretending to read a book while actually watching me. He’d been doing this all morning, maintaining a careful distance while somehow always being within arm’s reach. It was annoying and weirdly comforting and I hated that I noticed.
“The twins need to run,” he said carefully, setting down his book. “Their wolves are restless. We could go outside and let them-”
“There are literal wolves walking down the street,” I cut him off.
“Those are pack members. They won’t hurt-”
“What happens when your people smell them?” I interrupted, voicing the fear that had been growing since yesterday. “When they realize these outsider kids are yours? That you had cubs with a human? What then?”
His silence spoke volumes.
“That’s what I thought.” I turned back to my phone, pretending his lack of answer didn’t scare me.
The twins had found ways to entertain themselves, at least. Thea was building a fort out of couch cushions while Rowan played with blocks on the floor, constructing elaborate towers with the focus of an architect.
That’s when he did it.
One of his blocks rolled under the heavy bookshelf, too far for his little arms to reach. Instead of asking for help like a normal child, Rowan simply looked at his hand, concentrated for a second, and then...
His hand shifted. Just his hand. One moment it was a normal four-year-old hand, the next it was a tiny wolf paw complete with gray fur and claws. He hooked the block with one claw and pulled it out, then shifted back to human like he was changing socks.
Normal as breathing, practiced as walking.
I must have made a sound because he looked up at me, block clutched in his definitely-human-again hand.
“Baby,” I managed, dropping to my knees beside him and gently taking his hand. “What... how did you do that?”
“I just changed it,” Rowan said simply, as if I’d asked him how he’d tied his shoes. To demonstrate, he held up his hand and shifted it again. Fur sprouted, fingers shortened into a paw, tiny claws extending. Then back to human. Smooth as breathing.
“Thea can too,” he added helpfully.
My world tilted on its axis. Again.
“Can we show you our paws?” Thea asked excitedly, abandoning her fort to join us. “We’ve been practicing!”
What followed broke my brain a little bit. Both my children held up their hands and, smoothly and easily, transformed them into wolf paws. Gray fur sprouted across their skin, their fingers shortened and thickened, claws extended. Not painful or scary or monstrous. Just... natural.
“We practiced lots,” Thea said proudly, flexing her claws with the same delight she’d show off a new drawing. “At night when you were sleeping. We didn’t want to scare you.”
The confession hit me in the chest. My babies had been hiding parts of themselves to protect ME. They’d been sneaking practice sessions like other kids snuck cookies, all because they didn’t want to frighten their mother.
“Change back,” I whispered, and they did instantly, giggling at my stunned expression.
“Are you mad?” Rowan asked, a note of worry creeping into his voice.
“No, baby. Not mad. Just... surprised.”
Noah chose that moment to enter with lunch, taking in the scene with raised eyebrows. “Ah. They showed you the partial shift.”
“Partial shift,” I repeated numbly. “That’s what it’s called when my four-year-olds turn their hands into paws?”
“That level of control at their age is remarkable,” Noah said, setting down sandwiches. “Most wolves can’t even partial shift until puberty. Your bloodline,” he nodded to Knox, who’d moved closer during the revelation, “it’s stronger than most. Alpha genetics.”
“So they’re... advanced?” I asked weakly, watching Thea examine her perfectly normal hand like she was checking her manicure.
“Exceptionally. Which means they need training even more. Untrained power is dangerous.”
“We’re not dangerous!” Thea protested. “We’re careful! We only practiced when Mama was sleeping and we never broke anything. Well, except that one lamp but that was an accident and we cleaned it up.”
“You broke a lamp?” I stared at her. “When?”
“Last month. But we fixed it with glue!”
My life was insane. My four-year-olds had been having secret werewolf training sessions in our apartment while I slept, apparently breaking furniture and developing supernatural abilities like other kids developed preferences for dinosaurs or princesses.
“Can we practice more?” Thea asked innocently, looking between me and Knox with hopeful eyes. “It feels good to not hide.”
The words gutted me. It feels good to not hide.
“You hid this to protect me,” I said softly, pulling both twins close. They came willingly, snuggling into my sides with the trust that only children could show. “I’m sorry you felt you had to.”
“You’re not scared?” Rowan asked hopefully, peering up at me.
“Of you? Never. You’re my babies, paws and all.”
They beamed at me, and I felt my heart crack and reshape itself to accommodate this new reality. They were still my children. Just... more. More special, more powerful, more than I’d ever imagined when I’d held them as newborns and promised to protect them from everything.
Knox watched from across the room, naked longing on his face as he observed our little family moment. The raw want in his expression made my skin prickle with awareness I resented.
“I could teach them,” he offered quietly, voice rough with emotion. “Control, safety, how to-”
“We’ll see,” I cut him off, not ready to give him that yet. But I was considering it. If they were really that advanced, that powerful, they’d need more than a mother who’d just learned werewolves existed. They’d need someone who understood what they were.
Even if that someone was the man who’d shattered my heart.
My phone rang, interrupting my spiral into acceptance. Sarah’s name flashed on the screen. I had to answer this one or she’d probably drive up here herself.
“Lina Winters, you better be dying or I’m driving up here myself,” Sarah’s voice was part worried grandmother, part scolding matriarch. “And I’m bringing my baseball bat.”
“I’m okay, Sarah. Really. It’s just... complicated family stuff.”
“Since when do you have family upstate?” Sharp and knowing, Sarah had been around long enough to spot my flimsy lies.
“It’s a long story. I’ll explain when I get back.” If I could figure out how to explain ‘surprise, werewolves are real and I accidentally had puppies with one’ in a way that didn’t sound completely insane.
“The kids okay?” Her voice softened. “They’re not sick, are they?”
“They’re... they’re good. Learning about their heritage.” Not entirely a lie. They were literally learning about their wolf heritage while I watched and tried not to have a breakdown.
“Heritage,” Sarah repeated skeptically. “Lina, honey, you know you can tell me anything, right? If you’re in some kind of trouble-”
“No trouble,” I lied smoothly. “Just some unexpected family business. We’ll be home soon.”
“You better be. That Tyler won’t stop coming by the shop asking when you’ll be back. Boy needs a hobby.”
I glanced at Knox, who was now helping Rowan rebuild his block tower with careful concentration.
“Tell Tyler I’m not interested,” I said. “And that he should really stop listening to his mother.”
“Already did. Multiple times. Boy’s more persistent than a summer cold.”
If only she knew about the persistent werewolf currently teaching my son architectural principles with wooden blocks.
After I hung up, I looked around Noah’s living room at my new reality.
My twins practicing their paw shifts with delighted giggles.
Knox watching protectively from his corner, trying to respect my boundaries while clearly dying to be closer.
Noah making sandwiches like this was all perfectly normal.
Three days. I’d given myself three days to figure this out, to understand what my children needed, to decide if we could really go back to Pine Valley and pretend none of this had happened.
It wasn’t nearly enough time.
“Mama, look!” Thea had shifted both hands now and was attempting to pick up blocks with her paws. “It’s harder with paws but I’m getting better!”
“That’s... great, sweetheart.” What else could I say? Good job on your supernatural ability development?
Noah cleared his throat gently. “There’s a pack meeting this weekend. Knox wants to formally announce you and the pups to everyone.”
I froze mid-reach for a sandwich. “Announce us?”
“The pack needs to know,” Knox said quietly. “That I have a mate and cubs. That you’re under Alpha protection.”
“I didn’t agree to-”
“It’s for your safety,” Noah interrupted. “Once the pack knows you’re Knox’s mate, no one will dare threaten you. It’s protection, not ownership.”
“Feels like the same thing from where I’m sitting,” I muttered.
“There’s a pack meeting this weekend,” Noah repeated. “We’re planning on letting everyone know about you and the pups.”