Sorin
Arabella came first, squalling at the top of her lungs, and although she fit in one hand, I was terrified to hold her. I was brave for Aliana’s sake anyway. Amalie was surprisingly chilled, following much faster.
But the one we almost lost was Ayla.
The smallest. The angriest.
Aliana blamed me.
How was it my fault that she got stuck up there?
Now, here they were, five months later, gaining weight at a steady pace while we fulfilled our life’s purpose by feeding our family. All of my trauma had been worth it for my girls.
The longer I spent with my family, the stronger I got.
Every day, a little more of my fear fell away.
Watching how Aliana handled our pups gave me the confidence I needed.
Malakh was utterly useless. The triplets could go off and commit mass murder, and he’d be ready to bury the bodies and organise a patsy for the crime.
Actually, Zira and Malakh were both in the same camp. We most definitely balanced them out.
Amalie cooed and slapped her mother’s name on my chest. I caught her tiny paw and blew a raspberry against it. We were rewarded with a giggle that warmed us both.
My girls’ names were inked there now, and there was plenty of space left for more.
Good luck with that. Our mate has put a kibosh on that plan, Malakh grumbled.
I grazed my fingers along Amalie’s plump cheek. She glowed bronze beneath the morning sun.
Sometimes I couldn’t breathe—so much love overwhelmed me, arriving in waves, always strongest when I was with the girls. They were all so different, and yet somehow all the same.
Hours. I spent hours and hours just watching them.
If it weren’t for our Luna and her delicious scent, I’d have been committed by now. Only the ones closest to me knew how far gone I truly was.
We were a well-oiled machine now—months of trial, error, and at least one memorable incident involving a diaper explosion had made us this efficient.
I whispered sweet nothings to Arabella as I settled her against my shoulder, one hand rubbing slow circles against her back, her small weight warm and solid through the thin cotton of her onesie.
She smelled of milk and lavender soap, that particular baby-scent that Malakh had gone half-mad over the first time he’d caught it.
Beside me, Amalie suddenly remembered how ravenous she was, her cries rising sharp and insistent, demanding, as always, immediate satisfaction.
Ayla’s face scrunched up in outrage at the noise, her tiny brow furrowing with the same fierce temper she’d had since the moment she was born.
I didn’t blame her. The audacity of Amalie’s crying disturbing her while she was busy suckling the royal nipple of creamy goodness.
You need help, Aliana interrupted, not even bothering to look up from where she’d settled Ayla back against her chest.
She could say anything she wanted, as long as she sat on her throne every night.
Her eyes flicked up to mine.
Bow lips tugged at the corners, that same small, secretive smile she’d worn since the day I met her.
The same plump lips our girls had, I realised—Amalie’s especially, pouting even in sleep.
Arabella let out a loud, satisfied burp against my shoulder.
We shared a smile over the chaos of it, warm and easy, the kind that needed no words.
Never had I imagined such a life when we broke down Gerald’s door.
Such a pity he belonged to the maggots now.
Arabella’s eyes began to droop.
I didn’t place her in her crib. I kept holding her instead, wanting to memorise every second of this—the weight of her, the softness, the trust of her small body going slack against my chest.
All four of my girls would shape the world we lived in. A world of mutual bonds and true respect. A better world for every Omega and Alpha still waiting to be seen.
A better world for my daughters.
The End