Chapter One

Tyson

Eighteen months changed the sound of Nightward.

Not completely.

The pack still woke early. Patrols still moved before sunrise. Wolves still crossed the central paths with reports, supplies, children, and problems they thought required my attention.

But beneath all of it, Nightward had gained a new sound.

Toddlers.

Three of them belonged to me.

That meant no room in my house was safe.

Not the sitting room.

Not the kitchen.

Not the office I had once believed belonged to me.

Especially not the office.

Hazel stood in front of my desk with both hands planted on the polished wood, staring at the stack of reports I had been reading before she entered with purpose.

At eighteen months old, my firstborn daughter had learned how to walk, climb, point, say no, and look deeply offended when anyone denied her access to something she had already decided was hers.

Konan loved it.

Strong pup.

“She is about to destroy three patrol reports.”

Alpha work.

“Yes.”

Daughter learns.

“She does not need to learn by eating the corner.”

Hazel picked up the top page.

I took it before she could put it in her mouth.

Her dark little brows pulled together.

“No.”

I stared at her.

She stared back.

The resemblance to Nika was unfortunate.

The resemblance to me was worse.

“No,” she repeated.

Konan’s amusement rolled through my chest.

Daughter commands.

“She is not in command.”

Hazel slapped one hand on the desk.

“No.”

From the doorway, Nika laughed.

I looked over my shoulder.

She stood there with Beau on her hip and Amaya holding one of her hands. Beau had his cheek pressed against Nika’s shoulder, still half-asleep, dark curls flattened on one side of his head.

Amaya was wide awake.

That was rarely good.

She wore one shoe.

I looked down at her feet.

“Where is the other one?”

Amaya smiled.

“Koda.”

“That does not answer me.”

Nika sighed. “It means she gave it to Koda.”

“Koda is not here.”

“She knows.”

Amaya tugged free of Nika’s hand and toddled toward me with both arms lifted for balance.

At eighteen months, she walked like the floor had personally offended her.

“Koda,” she said.

“He’s training.”

“Koda.”

“He is still training.”

Her mouth turned downward.

Konan immediately rose inside me.

Get young wolf.

“No.”

Nika gave me a look.

“You too?”

“She’s upset.”

“She’s one and a half.”

Small eclipse pup.

“She is not manipulating you.”

Amaya reached my leg and grabbed the fabric of my pants.

“Koda.”

Hazel heard the name and abandoned the patrol reports.

“Koda.”

Beau lifted his head from Nika’s shoulder.

“Koda?”

I closed my eyes.

This was how it started.

Every morning.

Every afternoon.

Every time Luka left the house for more than thirty minutes.

Amaya adored him.

More accurately, she adored Koda.

Luka insisted that was unfair.

Koda considered it correct.

Nika moved closer, her free hand brushing over Amaya’s curls.

“They’ll be back soon.”

“Soon” meant nothing to Amaya.

She reached for me instead.

I picked her up before she could begin crying.

She immediately leaned against my chest, then looked at the door as if expecting Koda to appear because she had been inconvenienced.

Hazel reached up next.

“No.”

Her eyes narrowed.

I lifted her too.

Konan was deeply pleased.

Daughters.

“Yes. I have arms.”

Nika smiled and shifted Beau higher.

“You said you wanted a family.”

“I did not say I wanted to conduct pack business while holding two toddlers.”

“You should have been more specific.”

The front door opened.

A small body ran in first.

Tatum Raines, seven years old, fearless, windblown, and carrying Scout’s jacket instead of wearing her own.

Scout followed behind her at two, running with both arms out and shrieking with laughter.

Axel appeared in the doorway next.

He looked tired.

That was satisfying.

Tatum stopped in the entryway and looked at the toddlers in my arms.

“Why do you have both girls?”

“Because they were staging a rebellion.”

Tatum nodded seriously.

“That happens.”

Scout ran straight for Nika.

“Beau!”

Beau looked at him.

Then hid against Nika’s shoulder.

Scout did not take the rejection personally. He simply turned toward Hazel and Amaya.

“Mine?”

“No,” I said.

Scout blinked up at me.

“No.”

At least someone listened.

Then Koniah Rourke walked in carrying Amaya’s missing shoe.

Three years old.

Dark curls.

Bright eyes.

A smile that had caused more damage to Nightward than several border conflicts.

Shayne followed her with the expression of a man who had lost a battle before entering the room.

Koniah held the shoe up proudly.

“Mine.”

Amaya gasped.

“Shoe!”

Koniah clutched it to her chest.

“Mine.”

Shayne pointed at her. “No. We discussed this the entire walk here.”

Koniah looked at him.

Then at me.

“Ty.”

Konan stirred.

Small pup asks Alpha.

“Do not involve me.”

She walked to my desk and placed the shoe beside my reports as if submitting evidence.

“Mine.”

Amaya immediately tried to climb down my body to get it.

Hazel tried to follow because Hazel believed she should be part of all conflicts.

Nika took Hazel from me before I dropped both girls.

Beau leaned away from Scout and looked toward Koniah with concern.

He could sense trouble the same way he sensed pain.

Nika’s healing warmth shifted around him.

Quiet now.

Controlled.

Mostly.

Over the last eighteen months, she had learned to hold the power the triplets awakened in her. Not perfectly. Some days, Nightward still healed around her without permission. A headache eased. A bruised hand stopped throbbing. A wolf hiding an injury suddenly found it gone before Maia could lecture them.

But Nika understood it better now.

Beau pointed her toward hurt.

Hazel strengthened the bond that carried her power.

Amaya balanced what neither side could hold alone.

They were still babies.

Toddlers.

Messy, stubborn, impossible children who spilled food and stole shoes.

But they were more than anyone had expected.

The door opened again.

Luka came in with mud on his boots, a training pack over one shoulder, and Koda close enough beneath his skin that his eyes were warm brown before he blinked them back to his own.

Twelve years old.

Almost thirteen.

Too tall already.

Too quiet sometimes.

Too young for the things he had survived.

He stopped when he saw the room.

Tatum.

Scout.

Koniah.

The missing shoe on my desk.

Three toddlers.

Several adults.

Me holding Amaya like she was a royal demand given physical form.

“No,” Luka said.

Amaya twisted so fast I had to tighten my grip.

“Koda!”

Koda surged forward in pure joy.

Amaya.

Luka closed his eyes.

“She knows I exist too.”

Amaya reached for him.

“Koda!”

“See?”

Koda pushed close enough that Luka’s eyes warmed completely. He did not take control. He did not shift. He only looked through Luka, careful and pleased.

Amaya stretched both hands toward his face.

I passed her over.

Luka accepted her with the tired resignation of someone who had lost the same fight every day for eighteen months.

The moment she reached him, she settled.

Koda wrapped calm around her.

Nika’s power steadied immediately.

Beau relaxed.

Hazel stopped glaring at Koniah.

Even Koniah looked briefly impressed.

Then she took the shoe off my desk and hid it behind her back.

Shayne saw her.

“Koniah.”

She smiled.

“No.”

Luka adjusted Amaya on his hip.

“How was your morning?” he asked, as if this room explained itself.

“You’re late.”

“I was training.”

“You were supposed to return after the east trail.”

“We did.”

“Then why are you muddy?”

He glanced down at his boots.

“Koda found water.”

Koda remained unashamed.

Good water.

“It was a ditch,” Luka muttered.

Nika moved toward him, Beau still on her hip.

“Any problems?”

“No.”

“With the shift?”

“No.”

“With the group?”

“No.”

“With Skye?”

He went still.

Koda went still too.

Tatum immediately looked interested.

“Who’s Skye?”

“No one,” Luka said too quickly.

Tatum’s eyes widened.

“Oh.”

“No.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were about to.”

“I was breathing.”

“That’s what adults say before they lie.”

Shayne coughed.

I looked at him.

He looked away.

Nika’s mouth curved, but she said nothing.

Good.

Skye remained a careful subject.

Not because she was part of Nightward.

She wasn’t.

She lived with her own pack and had her own life far from ours.

But there had been enough signs over the last year to make the adults quietly aware of the possibility.

A future possibility.

Not a claim.

Not a pressure.

No adult in Nightward would name that bond before Luka, Koda, Skye, or her sleeping wolf were old enough to understand it.

Konan agreed.

Let young ones grow.

Luka must have felt the edge of that thought because his shoulders lowered.

Koda stayed close without reaching for more.

That mattered.

The old fear between them had become something else over the last year and a half.

Not gone.

Remembered.

Respected.

Koda asked now.

Luka answered.

They argued.

They disagreed.

But they shared the body without one fearing the other would take it.

That was healing.

Not sudden.

Not clean.

Real.

A knock came from the open doorway.

Maia stood outside with one hand at her lower back and Nolan beside her carrying a medical bag she definitely had not allowed him to take without threatening him first.

Her pregnancy was not obvious yet to anyone who did not know.

Nightward knew.

Of course Nightward knew.

The healer was carrying the next child of our circle.

The first after ours.

Not the last.

Konan lifted his head.

Healer pup.

Maia stepped inside.

“If anyone says anything emotional, I’m leaving.”

Tatum immediately raised her hand.

“Is there a baby in there?”

Maia stared at her.

Axel covered his daughter’s mouth too late.

Nolan smiled.

Brave man.

Very brave.

“Yes,” Maia said finally.

Tatum pulled Axel’s hand away.

“Can it hear me?”

“Unfortunately, probably.”

Tatum leaned toward Maia’s stomach.

“Hi, baby. I’m Tatum.”

Maia closed her eyes.

Nika laughed softly.

Beau turned toward Maia.

His expression changed.

Nika noticed at the same moment I did.

“Beau?”

He reached.

Nika carried him closer.

Maia’s face softened before she could stop it.

“No tests.”

“This isn’t a test,” Nika said.

Beau placed one small palm against Maia’s stomach.

The room went still.

Moon warmth moved.

Gentle.

Small.

Recognition, not healing.

The life beneath Maia’s heart answered.

Barely.

A flicker.

A spark.

A tiny presence that made Nolan’s hand tighten around the strap of the medical bag and made Maia’s eyes shine before she looked away.

Beau smiled.

“Baby.”

Hazel turned in Nika’s arm.

Amaya lifted her head from Luka’s shoulder.

Koda watched through Luka’s eyes, warm and quiet.

Nika’s healing hummed through all three of our children, through the pack bond, through the room full of family that had grown far beyond what I once imagined.

Eighteen months ago, Maia had looked at me and said our children were only the beginning.

She had been right.

I looked around the room.

At Nika.

At Luka and Koda.

At my daughters, my son, the toddlers underfoot, the next child not yet born, the mates who had chosen Nightward, and the chaos that had replaced every quiet corner of my life.

This was the future now.

Not waiting.

Not theoretical.

Here.

Loud.

Sticky-handed.

Stealing shoes.

Calling for Koda.

Growing stronger every day.

Konan settled inside me, calmer than he had any right to be.

Family safe.

For once, I believed him.