Olivia’s POV
*THREE YEARS LATER*
“Diego, finish your breakfast.”
“But, Mama, the porridge’s cold!”
“Then eat faster next time.”
He pouted. “You always say that.”
“And you always forget.”
Maria laughed from the doorway. “He’s got your attitude.”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s your fault. You taught him sarcasm.”
“I taught him survival,” she said, winking. “Big difference.”
Diego giggled. “Auntie Maria says sarcasm’s an art.”
“Then eat your art, little wolf,” I said, setting a cup of warm milk beside him.
He grinned, showing his small, sharp canines. “When will I shift, Mama?”
My heart skipped. “Not for a long time.”
“Why not?”
“Because your wolf’s still sleeping.”
“Will it look like yours?”
I smiled faintly. “Maybe. Mine’s white.”
“I want a black wolf,” he said proudly.
Maria
