My Triplet Alphas

Nesting amongst wolves

Cassidy’s Point of View

They call it the pack house.

I still catch myself calling it a mansion—it has the tall ceilings, the gleaming floors, the endless hallways that echo your footsteps back like whispers from another life. But to them, it’s home. It has been for generations. And now, somehow, it’s mine too.

It was easier to breathe here than in the hospital. There, I was the broken girl being put back together under fluorescent lights and soft voices. Here… I was still broken, yes, but I was also rebuilding. Bit by bit. Day by day.

The nursery was nearly finished.

Zarina had picked out the color scheme herself—sky blue and soft gray, with wolf paw prints stenciled along the bottom of the walls. “So your baby will know he’s strong like us,” she’d said matter-of-factly, her tiny chin tilted up proudly. I hadn’t argued. I didn’t have the heart to. She had painted it with Zavier’s help, her ponytail streaked with a line of blue by the end.

Zaylen had donated a stuffed bear he’d had since he was four, pressing it into my arms with a shrug that didn’t quite hide the softness in his eyes. “He’ll probably like it better than I did anyway,” he mumbled before running off with Ellie.

Ellie, my sweet 18-month-old girl, was adjusting better than I could have dreamed. She’d fallen into pack life like she was born for it. Maybe she was. Maybe, in some way, this place—these people—were always going to be a part of our story.

She followed Zarina everywhere like a shadow. I caught her once trying to howl like a wolf, her tiny mouth forming an “O” as she let out a high-pitched squeal that made Zayden laugh so hard he snorted. Zarina immediately howled back, and the two girls collapsed in giggles.

My heart had never ached and healed at the same time like it did in moments like that.

“Cassidy?”

I turned, brushing my hair out of my face. Zander stood in the doorway of the nursery, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised as he took in the sight of me trying to move a rocking chair by myself.

“I’m pregnant, not made of glass,” I said, not unkindly.

He gave me that soft look again. The one I’d learned meant he was worried but trying not to crowd me. “You’re pregnant and stubborn. Terrible combination.”

I huffed but let him take the chair from me. He adjusted it slightly so it faced the window that looked out onto the forest.

“There,” he said. “Now you can rock him to sleep and watch the moon rise.”

Something in my chest squeezed. I didn’t reply, but I sat down slowly, placing a hand over my belly. The baby kicked gently under my palm, like he knew we were talking about him.

Zander’s eyes followed the movement. “He’s strong,” he said quietly.

“I’m scared,” I admitted before I could stop myself.

Zander crouched in front of me, his voice a murmur. “You don’t have to do any of this alone. Not anymore. We meant it, Cassidy. All of us. We’ll love him. Raise him. Protect him.”

“He’s not even—” I started, but he cut me off with a shake of his head.

“He is ours. Yours. Ours. No matter how he got here, he’s a part of you. That makes him family.”

I didn’t cry. But I wanted to.

Later that night, Zayden brought a box of newborn clothes to my room.

“Found these in storage,” he said, holding up a tiny onesie with a howling wolf on the front. “They were Zaylen’s. I figured we’d pass them down.”

I turned the fabric over in my hands, marveling at how small it was. “Thank you.”

Zayden shrugged like it was nothing, but I could see the tension in his shoulders. “You’re letting us in,” he said finally. “That’s not nothing. And we see you, Cass. Not just as our second chance… but as you. You’re more than what happened to you.”

And again, I didn’t cry. But my throat ached.

Zavier came in last, just before bed. He helped me set up the bassinet in the corner of my room.

“You’re sure he should stay in here? With me?” I asked.

Zavier tilted his head. “He’ll want to be near your heartbeat. He knows you already, Cassidy. He’s going to feel safest with you.”

“I’m not sure I’ll know what to do.”

He smiled then. “None of us do. You figure it out one sleepless night at a time. But you won’t be doing it alone.”

That night, I fell asleep surrounded by softness—pillows, the warmth of the blanket Zayden had tucked around me earlier, the steady thump of the baby’s kicks against my ribs. I dreamed of lullabies and pine trees, of cherrywood and vanilla, though I couldn’t smell my own scent.

I dreamed of a pack that was becoming a home.

And in the quiet hours before dawn, when I awoke to a sharp ache low in my belly, I didn’t panic.

I pressed a hand to my stomach.

He was almost here.

he’d be born into love.