The Alpha's and Their Assassin Mate

Chapter 4

Jason’s POV

Zane kissed Asher’s tiny head, then brushed a gentle kiss to Kelly’s cheek before handing her — reluctantly — to Luke, who took her with a quiet, smug little triumphant smirk.

I started to lower Asher into the bassinet, but Max reached for him. I settled him into her arms, and the way she looked at him made me smile.

She drew him close, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. Asher melted against her chest, tiny fists curling into her gown like he already knew exactly where he belonged.

I leaned in and kissed her, lingering. Her warm lavender scent wrapped around me, grounding me in a way nothing else ever had.

“Damn, we don’t deserve her,” I told Ajax.

“I agree,” he said, surprisingly soft. “But she is ours because she chose us. And I will guard that choice until her heart says otherwise.”

I looked over at Luke, who was smiling down at our sleeping daughter, like she was the only thing in the world worth looking at.

Ajax muttered again, “Lucky bastard.”

“Yeah,” I agreed.

And with that, we finally slipped out of the room — three alphas on a mission to bring back food for the woman who’d survived hell and still managed to love us.

We slipped out of the room at last, the door clicking softly behind us, and we walked in silence at first, our footsteps echoing down the long corridor. Dean and Zane were already talking about rebuilding the barracks — the old ones were half‑rotted and barely usable. We’d poured everything into this pack for years, brick by brick, sweat and blood and stubbornness. And now here we were, three alphas on a food‑fetching mission for the woman who’d given us our son and daughter.

Ajax stirred in the back of my mind. “If she asked us to burn the world down…”

“We’d ask if she wanted it rare or well done,” I finished.

He hummed, pleased.

We reached the elevator, and the doors slid open with a soft ding. Inside, the air was colder, humming with that faint metallic scent hospitals never managed to hide. The doors closed, sealing us in.

For a moment, none of us spoke.

Hospitals had always felt like empty halls and pain, places where hope went to die. I’d spent too many nights in places like this, waiting for someone to tell me whether the people I loved were going to make it.

Ajax’s presence warmed. “Historically, your experiences here have been negative.”

“Yeah,” I murmured under my breath. “But… it feels different now.”

“Different how?”

I exhaled slowly. “The pups. Even in a place like this, they make everything feel less bleak.”

Ajax hummed in agreement. “Life alters perception. Even in places tied to loss.”

Exactly.

The elevator dinged again, and the doors slid open. Dean scrubbed a hand over his face, letting out a long breath.

“f**k,” he muttered. “I still can’t believe they’re here.”

“Believe it,” Zane said, stepping out. “I’ve already changed three diapers today.”

I huffed a laugh. “Asher poops like a champ. Why do you think I handed him to Dean after burping him?”

Zane grinned — an actual grin — and I almost checked for signs of the apocalypse. “Who knew something that tiny could produce that much?”

Dean groaned. “I hate both of you.”

Zane’s mouth twitched — the closest he got to a full smile. “You’re the one who said you wanted to be ‘more involved.’”

“I meant emotionally,” Dean snapped. “Not… whatever that was.”

I slung an arm around both their shoulders. “Admit it. You love them.”

Zane shoved me off, but there was no heat in it. “Course I do. They’re ours.”

I grinned. “Don’t go soft on me now. Who am I supposed to run to when Max goes full Dragon Queen on my ass?”

“You probably deserved it,” Dean muttered.

Ajax barked a laugh. “Dean and I agree.”

Zane rolled his eyes. “I’m surrounded by idiots.”

We laughed — the kind of laugh that lived in scars and shadows. The kind forged in the underground hell we’d survived together. Tortured by the same hands. Escaped by the same blood‑soaked determination. Brotherhood built in darkness, hardened and softened in all the right places.

We’d spent years searching for our destined mates, wandering from country to country, pack to pack, until we stumbled into the Dark Wing Pack — a place barely surviving under a cowardly Alpha. We’d saved them from rogues, dethroned Neo, and rebuilt everything from the ground up.

Now we had a family of our own.

Ajax’s voice softened. “We earned this. After everything… we finally have something worth living for.”

Yeah. We did.

And I wasn’t going to let anything take it from us again.

The cafeteria was mostly empty when we walked in, the kind of quiet lull that happens after the lunch rush dies and before the dinner crowd drifts in. Warm air rolled out from behind the counter, carrying the scent of fresh bread, burnt coffee, and something fried that probably wasn’t good for any of us. My stomach growled anyway.

Dean grabbed a tray first. I followed, snapping mine off the stack with a loud crack — on purpose. Dean jumped, swearing under his breath.

I bit back a grin. “You’re welcome.”

“Asshole,” he muttered, but there was no heat in it.

“What should we get her?” I asked, scanning the options. Max’s appetite had been unpredictable for weeks — cravings that changed by the hour, sometimes by the minute. No telling what she’d want now.

“A little of everything,” Dean said, already loading a plate with grilled chicken, mashed potatoes, and steamed vegetables — the safest bets.

“Good idea,” I said. “She’ll eat what she wants, and we’ll finish the rest.”

Zane grabbed another tray and immediately stacked it with fruit, yogurt, and a slab of chocolate cake big enough to feed a small army.

I chuckled and continued to move down the line, grabbing anything that looked remotely edible. I tossed in a couple of rolls, a bowl of soup, and a side of mac and cheese because Max had inhaled an entire pot of it last week and then cried because it was too cheesy.

Dean slowed near the end of the counter. His expression shifted, softening and tightening all at once.

“Do you think…” He hesitated, glancing between us. “Do you think they’re them? The ones she lost?”

Zane and I exchanged a look. Kelly had the same stubborn tilt to her chin as the little girl in Max’s photos. Asher’s quiet, watchful eyes mirrored his namesake’s. The resemblance was impossible to ignore.

“Does it matter?” Zane asked quietly.

Dean swallowed. “No. I just… hope they’re happy. That they know she’s okay now.”

Zane clapped him on the shoulder. “They know.”

I clapped the other. “And if they don’t, we’ll tell them.”

Dean snorted. “Just don't dance.”

“Agreed,” Ajax said dryly. “Your dancing is offensive.”

“What? I’m a great dancer,” I protested.

“Against a toddler,” Dean said. “Maybe.”

Ajax added, “Actually, the toddler would win.”

Our laughter echoed down the hall as we carried the food toward the elevators, the trays warm in our hands, the weight of everything we’d survived — and everything we’d gained — settling around us like a second skin.

We were bringing food back to our mate. Our Luna. The mother of our children.

And for the first time in a long time, the world didn’t feel like a place waiting to take something from us.

It felt like a place we were finally allowed to keep something.

We were halfway back to Max’s room when we passed the small gift shop tucked into the corner of the hallway. Warm light spilled through the open doorway, soft and golden, cutting through the hospital’s harsh fluorescent glare. It looked out of place here — too gentle, too warm — like a pocket of calm carved out of chaos.

I slowed, nudging Dean with my elbow. “Let’s grab something for Max and the pups.”

Zane arched a brow, already suspicious. “Like what?”

“No idea,” I said. “Something soft. Something cute. Something that says ‘we survived childbirth and all we got was this candle.’”

Dean snorted. “The phrase is ‘all we got was this t‑shirt.’”

“Tomato, potato,” I said. “Mine’s better.”

Zane muttered, “I’m surrounded by idiots,” but he followed us inside anyway.

The shop smelled like lavender, cedar, and vanilla — a welcome break from antiseptic and metal. Shelves lined the walls, filled with plush toys, candles, blankets, tiny clothes, and enough pastel‑colored nonsense to make even the toughest Alpha question his masculinity.

Dean made a beeline for the plush toys. He trailed his fingers over them before choosing two matching teddy bears — one pink, one blue. Something soft flickered across his face as he held them, a quiet ache that lived in the shadows of his past.

I drifted toward a display of chocolates and spotted Max’s favorite bars — dark sea salt caramel. I grabbed a handful. “If we’re spoiling her, we’re doing it right.”

Dean added a candle labeled Alpha Musk with a grin that promised trouble. “For irony.”

“If it smells like wet fur and ego, I’m blaming you,” I said. “Max will sniff it once, call it ‘aggressively male,’ and throw it out the window.”

“If it smells like Zane after a workout, we’re tossing it,” Dean added.

Zane grunted. “You wish you smelled this good.”

I blinked. “Holy s**t. He made a joke.”

Dean snorted. “Mark the calendar and check if hell froze over.”

Zane ignored us, drifting toward a display of tiny knitted booties. He picked up a cream‑colored pair, turning them over in his hands like they were fragile armor. His expression softened — barely, but enough for me to see it.

“They’ll outgrow the others fast,” he said quietly. “These might fit longer.”

Something warm tugged at my chest. Zane didn’t talk about feelings. He didn’t need to. Moments like this said everything.

We checked out looking like a Pinterest board exploded — plush toys, chocolates, candles, tiny booties, a cashmere blanket draped over Zane’s arm like tactical gear. The cashier gave us a look that said she wasn’t sure whether we were adorable or unhinged.

We stepped back into the hallway, the bags rustling softly as we walked. The weight of them was nothing compared to the quiet buzz of contentment humming between us.

We were bringing gifts back to our mate. Our Luna. The woman who had changed everything.

Ajax murmured, “She will like these.”

“Yeah,” I said. “She will.”

And for the first time in a long time, the world felt like a place we were allowed to keep something good.