Dawn came pale and cold through the nursery window. I stood between the cradles, one hand on each rail, and watched the sky shift from grey to that thin, watery blue that meant morning but didn't feel like it yet.

I hadn't slept. Didn't need to. My wolf was too close to the surface now, a steady hum beneath my ribs that felt like waiting and warning rolled into one.

Reuben stirred first. His small fist uncurled against his cheek, mouth working, the prelude to waking. I lifted him before he could cry, settled him against my shoulder, his warmth spreading across my collarbone. Maia followed a moment later, her eyes blinking open, dark and unfocused. I gathered her into my other arm and stood there in the grey light, holding them both, breathing them in.

The bond pulsed once. Caleb was close. Less than an hour now.

I turned toward the window and saw movement in the courtyard below.

Ethan Cole stood outside the suite entrance. Just stood there, one hand raised like he'd been about to knock, then frozen mid-gesture. He was holding something under his arm. A ledger, maybe. Something bound in dark leather.

I watched him through the glass. He didn't knock. He didn't move. He just stood there for what felt like a full minute, staring at the door like it might open on its own and spare him the choice.

Then he turned and walked away.

I tracked his path across the courtyard — slow, deliberate steps, shoulders tight — until he disappeared into the east wing. I didn't know what he'd been carrying. Didn't know what he'd come to say.

But I knew the look on his face.

Guilt. The kind that had been sitting in someone's chest for three years, growing heavier every day, until it finally got too big to carry alone.

I turned away from the window and pressed my cheek to Reuben's soft head. Whatever Ethan had been holding, whatever he'd almost said — it didn't matter. Not anymore.

The knock came at six.

Not Ethan. The Lycan Crown attendant, a quiet woman named Iris who'd been assigned to me the day I'd checked into the lodge. She opened the door without waiting for permission — protocol when delivering security alerts — and stepped inside, her face carefully blank.

"Alpha Duncan Pierce has entered lodge territory," she said quietly. "Four warriors. He invoked Alpha territorial authority at the gate. Loudly."

I didn't react. Just adjusted Maia's weight in my arms and met Iris's gaze. "How long?"

"Ten minutes. Maybe less. He's moving fast."

I nodded once. "Take the twins' travel bags to the secondary exit. Wait there."

Iris hesitated for half a second — the instinct to argue, to suggest I come with her now, to get out before Duncan reached the suite. Then she saw my face and swallowed whatever she'd been about to say.

"Yes, Luna."

She left. I heard her footsteps retreat down the hall, quick and light, the soft rustle of bags being lifted.

I turned back to the nursery. Set Reuben in his cradle long enough to adjust the wrap across my chest, then lifted him again and settled him against me, snug and warm. Maia went into the second wrap, positioned carefully so both twins were secure, their small bodies pressed close.

Then I walked to the center of the nursery and stood there. Facing the door. Not hiding. Not running.

Waiting.

My wolf stirred again, deeper this time, a low pulse that felt like claws flexing beneath skin. I closed my eyes and breathed through it. Not yet. Not until I needed her.

The bond flared hot. Caleb's presence flooded through, sharp and immediate, laced with something that felt like fury held on a leash made of spider silk.

*I'm here,* he said. Not a question. A statement.

*I know,* I replied.

I didn't close the link. I left it open, a thread of heat and certainty running between us, and stood in the grey morning light with my children against my chest and waited for Duncan Pierce to make his last mistake.

I heard him before I saw him.

His voice carried down the corridor, loud and sharp, the kind of volume that wasn't about being heard so much as being obeyed. He was invoking something — legal language, formal pack law phrasing, the bloodline-protection clause he'd probably rehearsed all night.

Footsteps. Multiple sets. Heavy boots on tile.

Then his scent hit the air. Silverfang Alpha, soured with desperation and something sharper underneath. Fear wearing anger's face.

I didn't move. Just stood there, centered, hands cupped protectively over the twins' small backs.

The door slammed open.

Duncan filled the frame, four warriors behind him, his face flushed and his eyes wild. He looked at me. At the twins. At the empty cradles.

His jaw worked. Then he stepped inside.

"You conspired with rogue wolves," he said, voice shaking. "You stole my heirs. Used black-market suppressants to hide my bloodline. You're a traitor. A thief."

I met his eyes and said nothing.

He took another step forward. "Those pups are mine. Fated bonds leave traces. You know that. Everyone knows that."

Still I said nothing.

His hand came up, reaching toward Reuben. "I'm taking them. Now. Under Silverfang law—"

"You have no authority here," I said quietly.

My voice was flat. Calm. The kind of calm that came from standing in the center of a storm and realizing the wind couldn't touch you anymore.

Duncan froze. His hand hung in the air between us, fingers splayed, trembling.

Behind him, the warriors shifted. One of them glanced toward the corridor. The other two blocked the exit, positioning themselves like this was a retrieval operation and I was the target.

I looked past Duncan. Past the warriors. Out into the hall where I could feel, more than see, the lodge staff gathering at a distance, watching, waiting.

Then I looked back at Duncan and smiled.

It wasn't a kind smile.

"You should have stayed in Silverfang," I said softly.

His face went white.

And in the corridor beyond, I heard the sound of boots. Lycan Guard boots. Heavy and deliberate and moving fast.

Duncan heard it too. His head snapped toward the door. His scent spiked — sharp, acrid, the smell of a wolf who'd just realized he'd walked into a trap he didn't know existed.

I stood in the center of the nursery, my children warm and safe against my chest, and waited for the Lycan Prince to arrive.