The Alpha's and Their Assassin Mate

Chapter 5

Dean’s POV



The walk back to Max’s room carried a warmth that had nothing to do with the hospital’s heating system. Jason was in the middle of tormenting Zane again, needling him with some nonsense that didn’t matter in the slightest, but Zane couldn’t hide the faint murderous glint in his eye. Jason lived for that twitch.

I shook my head at them. The man really needs to laugh more, but I don’t think it’s in his vocabulary. Fortunately, Max completing our little family has started to crack Zane’s hardened exterior. We’ve even caught a few budding smiles.

As Jason tried to get Zane to smile, our laughter echoed down the empty corridor, filling the sterile space with something alive. We quieted as we reached her door in case Max or the pups were sleeping. I pushed the door open and Luke was stretched out on the narrow bed beside her, Max tucked against him as if she had grown there. Her head rested over his heart and his arm curved around her. They were speaking softly, their voices low and warm. When she heard us enter, she turned her head and offered a small smile that I live for.

The twins lay curled together, their breaths soft and steady, their bodies already bigger than they should be. Barely a day and a half old, and they looked like they’d been here for weeks. Dragon pups grew fast — faster than any other shifter race — but seeing it with my own eyes was something else entirely. It made my heart ache in a way I wasn’t prepared for. If this was the pace they were starting at, they’d be shifting before we could baby‑proof the house. Then again, nothing about their birth had been normal. For all I knew, they might turn into frogs just to keep us humble. At this point, nothing would surprise me.

“They just ate and went to sleep,” she whispered.

I leaned down and kissed her gently. “Dinner delivery, Little Star.”

Her eyes brightened with a spark of hope. “Please tell me there’s no Jello.”

Titan stirred in my mind, amused. “She really does hate it.”

“She’s had nothing but Jello and ice chips for two days,” I murmured back to him. “You would be sick of it too.”

“Then she deserves a feast,” he replied, “and we’re here to deliver.”

“No Jello,” I promised aloud, setting the tray on the rolling table. “Real food… or as close as this place can manage.”

Zane added his tray beside mine. “And cake. Because you earned it.”

Max laughed softly, the sound tired but genuine, and something in my chest loosened. She hadn’t been eating or sleeping well so that laugh felt like a small victory.

Luke helped her sit up while I checked on the twins, brushing a thumb over Asher’s tiny hand. In his sleep, he curled his fingers around mine, and warmth spread through me in a slow, steady wave. Fatherhood still felt unreal, like I was holding something too precious to belong to me.

Jason handed her a fork. “Eat before I do. I’m starving.”

“You’re always starving,” Luke said.

Jason pressed his hand to his chest in fake offense. “I’m a growing boy.”

Max snorted and took a bite. Her eyes fluttered shut. “This is incredible.”

“It’s just chicken,” Zane said.

“It isn’t Jello,” she replied, and that was enough to make all of us laugh.

Max ate until her eyelids began to droop, her movements slowing as the warmth of the meal settled into her bones. Luke shifted beside her, steadying her when she leaned into him. She blinked up at him, a soft crease forming between her brows.

“You’ve been in the office a lot lately,” she murmured. “More than usual.”

Luke’s hand paused on her shoulder. “Have I?”

She nodded, her voice quiet. “If you need help… you can ask. I don’t want you carrying everything alone.”

A faint smile tugged at his mouth, the kind that held gratitude more than amusement. “I know. And I appreciate it. But it’s just an embezzling case I’m working on.”

Her eyes sharpened with concern. “Is it bad?”

“It’s… involved,” he admitted. “But nothing you need to worry about right now.”

She studied him for a moment, clearly wanting to press but choosing not to.

“You will tell me if you need help,” she finally said, more of a command than suggestion.

“Yes, ma’am.” Luke brushed a thumb along her arm, a silent thank‑you for letting him keep the details to himself.

We finished the rest of the food in a quiet that felt comfortable, familiar — the kind of silence shared by people who no longer needed to fill it.

Jason broke the stillness first. “Before we all pass out from a food‑coma, we got you something.”

Max blinked, surprised. “You did?”

Zane crossed to the pile of bags near the door and lifted the cashmere blanket he’d chosen, holding it with a care that didn’t match his usual severity. “For warmth. These hospital blankets are thin and don’t keep you very warm.”

Max ran her fingers over the fabric, her expression softening. “I love you.”

Titan hummed in my mind. “Is she talking to Zane or the blanket?”

I bit back a smile. “Titan wants to know who you’re professing your love to Zane or the blanket?”

“Both,” she said without hesitation.

Zane’s mouth twitched. “I bought it so I get credit for both.”

Jason rolled his eyes and dropped her favorite chocolate bars onto the bed. “Because you need all the chocolate.” He leaned down for his kiss next, and she chuckled against his mouth. When she doesn’t feel good that’s what Max always says.

I placed two small teddy bears beside the twins. “For their first night.”

Her eyes shimmered, full of something tender and overwhelming. “You guys…”

Jason grinned. “We know. We’re awesome.”

She swatted at him, but her smile lingered until a yawn stole it away.

We took the hint.

Luke eased out from under her, smoothing the blanket over her legs. Zane stretched out on the long couch, settling into a position that looked like he intended to guard the entire room. Jason claimed the extra couch with a smugness that suggested he’d won something. I pulled a chair close to her bedside, checking the twins one last time.

When everything settled, I leaned down and kissed her goodnight. “Sleep, Little Star. We’re right here.”

Her fingers curled around mine for a moment, a silent thank you, before slipping away as sleep pulled her under.

Jason dimmed the lights. The room softened. Peace settled over us like a warm, fragile veil.

For a moment, I simply watched them, my mate, my pups, my brothers, and let gratitude fill the quiet and soon, sleep followed.

I woke before the others. The room was dim, washed in the soft gray of morning slipping through the blinds. Everything felt still, suspended in that quiet space between night and day where the world hadn’t quite decided to wake.

The air held the faint warmth of last night’s dinner and the lingering heat of four exhausted Alphas who had collapsed wherever gravity claimed them. Zane hadn’t moved at all. He lay stretched across the couch, one arm draped over his eyes, boots still on as if he’d fallen asleep mid‑watch. Jason looked worse, twisted into a position that defied both comfort and anatomy, yet somehow he wore an expression of smug victory, as if he’d conquered the couch through sheer stubbornness. Luke had clearly worked long after the rest of us surrendered to sleep. He was slumped in the recliner, arms crossed, chin tucked to his chest, his laptop balanced precariously on his knees.

A quiet smile tugged at my mouth. These were the same men who could level a battlefield without breaking a sweat, undone by fried chicken and chocolate cake.

Titan stirred in my mind, amused. “Jason snores like a dying moose.”

I swallowed a laugh, careful not to wake anyone. Moving slowly, I crossed the room and eased the laptop from Luke’s lap before it could slide to the floor. The screen dimmed as I closed it, leaving the room in a soft hush.

My phone buzzed. The sound was small, but in the quiet it felt loud enough to echo. I winced and checked the screen. It was a message from the supply company letting me know the remaining metal drying racks for Evelyn’s shop would arrive tomorrow.

Maple & Sage had been part of the pack longer than any of us. It’s a crooked little apothecary that smelled of lavender and old wood, run by Evelyn and her granddaughter, Marla. The place had survived rogue attacks, harsh winters, and time itself, but it needed several repairs. The porch sagged, the roof leaked and half the wooden drying racks collapsed last month. Evelyn waved it off with her usual stubbornness, insisting she’d fix it when her knees stopped betraying her. Marla tried to keep up, but she was stretched thin between caring for her grandmother, running the shop, and finishing her degree.

So, I offered to help.

The lumber was delivered yesterday and I paid the youth to stack it neatly behind the building. New cabinets and shelves waited in the back room and Bobby carved a new sign that looked beautiful, the letters curling like vines. Everything was ready and we were supposed to start today. But our pups had other plans.

Guilt tugged at me as I opened a quick mind‑link to Evelyn.

“Good morning, Evelyn.” I said knowing she wakes up at the crack of dawn.

“Good morning, Alpha Dean. How is Luna today?” She asked with genuine concern. She may be one of my favorite pack members. She is honest, caring and willing to smack the back of your head to knock sense into it.

“She is doing well, thank you for asking. The pups decided they wanted to come early, so we’ll need to push construction back a few days.”

“Congratulations, please let Luna know I will stop by if she’s up to it,” Her response came warm and immediate. “Oh, and don’t you worry about us, Alpha. Enjoy your babies. Family bonding time is more important. The shop will still be here when you’re ready.”

Some of the tension eased from my chest as I thanked her and closed the link.

“You’ll get to it after our mate and pups are released,” Titan murmured. “I knew Evelyn would understand.” He was right.

I turned toward the bed, expecting to see Max still asleep.

She wasn’t there.