CHAPTER NINE: Breakfast With Wolves.
1660 Words
Aria’s POV
I wake up to war.
Not gunfire. Not screaming.
Sniffing.
Two hundred wolves, outside the bedroom door, all trying to scent the new Luna and her pups through three feet of stone.
Kieran is already awake. Sitting up. Shirtless. Scars and Blackwood crest on full display. He looks like he hasn’t slept. He looks like he spent all night memorizing the way Kade breathes.
Kai is sprawled across both of us. One leg on Kieran’s stomach, one arm over my ribs. Kade is tucked into my side, Mr. Woof still death-gripped in his fist.
For a second, it’s peaceful.
Then Kade coughs.
It’s small. Just a clearing of his throat. But Kieran is out of bed in a heartbeat, inhaler in hand before I’m fully sitting up.
“He’s fine,” I say. Doctor Voice, automatic. “Just dry air. Mountains.”
Kieran doesn’t relax until I check Kade’s pulse myself. Doctor + Mom. Double verified.
The bond hums. Worry. Fear. Five years of missed night-wakes hitting him at once.
“Mommy?” Kai’s voice is thick with sleep. “Why’s it so loud outside?”
Because the entire pack slept in the hallway, baby. Because you’re heirs. Because the Luna Who Doesn’t Kneel is in their territory.
“Breakfast,” I say instead. “They’re hungry.”
Kieran pulls on a shirt. Black. Soft. It stretches across his shoulders. “Ryker has the kitchen on lockdown. No one cooks unless Mara or I taste it first. Victoria poisoned my father once.”
He says it casual. Like “Victoria poisoned my father” is normal breakfast conversation.
Welcome to pack life.
I get the boys dressed. Kade picks a shirt with dinosaurs. Kai picks one with a wolf. Subtle, kid.
“Rules,” I tell them while I brush Kade’s hair. “We stay together. You don’t go anywhere without me or…” I glance at Kieran. “...Daddy.”
The word still feels like glass in my mouth.
“Daddy,” Kade tests it. Looks at Kieran. “Can I?”
Kieran drops to his knee. Again. He’s going to have permanent bruises at this rate.
“You can call me anything you want, Kade,” he says. Voice wrecked. “Daddy. Kieran. Hey you. I’ll answer to all of it.”
Kai snorts. “Hey you is dumb. He’s Daddy. He’s got your eyes.”
Gods help me.
A knock. Three taps. Pause. Two taps.
Ryker’s code.
“Enter,” Kieran calls.
Ryker opens the door. He’s in tactical gear. Knives visible. He takes in the scene — us, dressed, boys alive, no blood — and his shoulders drop 1%.
“Kitchen’s clear,” he says. “Pack’s in the Great Hall. 200. All ranks. They want to present.”
Present. Like we’re gifts. Like this is a debutante ball and not a political minefield.
“Are they armed?” I ask.
Ryker’s mouth quirks. “Luna, they’re wolves. They’re always armed.”
Fair.
“Fine.” I grab my go-bag. Inhaler. EpiPen. Scalpel — still in my scrub pocket from yesterday. I’m not stupid. “But if anyone raises a hand to my sons, I start cutting.”
Ryker grins. Full teeth. “That’s why the pack’s already calling you ‘Luna Surgeon’.”
Kieran chokes.
I ignore them both. “Boys. Backpacks. Mr. Woof. Two minutes.”
They scramble. They know that tone.
Hospital tone. Emergency tone.
Kieran’s POV
The Great Hall is chaos.
Two hundred wolves. All ages. Pups hiding behind mothers. Elders in the back. Warriors lining the walls. And the smell — pack. Overwhelming. Protective. Curious.
And underneath it: fear.
They’re scared of her.
Good.
Aria walks in like she owns the place. Scrubs. Hair in a messy bun. Dark circles under her eyes. No makeup. No crown.
And every wolf in the room leans forward.
She’s not what they expected. Queen Victoria was ice and diamonds. Aria is blood and steel.
Kai walks beside me, holding my hand. Kade is in Aria’s arms, face buried in her neck but peeking.
“Blackwood Pack,” I say. My voice carries. King Voice. “My mate. Dr. Aria Vale.”
Murmurs.
“My heirs. Kai Blackwood. Kade Blackwood.”
Silence.
Then Mara steps forward. She’s got a tray. On it: bread, salt, water.
Old law. Offering. If the Luna eats, the pack is fed. If she drinks, the pack is safe.
Victoria never did it. “Omegas don’t eat before Kings,” she’d said.
Aria looks at the tray. Looks at me.
Your call, I tell her through the bond.
She sets Kade down. He immediately grabs my leg.
Aria takes the bread. Breaks it. Hands half to Mara.
“I don’t eat first,” she says. Loud. Clear. “The pack eats first. Kids first. Then elders. Then warriors. Then me.”
The Hall explodes.
Because that’s not Luna law. That’s ER triage. That’s doctor law.
Mara’s eyes fill. She bows. Deep. “Luna.”
She means it.
Aria takes the salt. Touches it to her tongue. Takes the water. Sips.
“Now,” she says. “Let the pups eat.”
Chaos. Beautiful chaos.
Pack mothers rush forward with plates. Not for me. For them. For Kai and Kade.
Berries. Meat. Honey. Milk.
Kade hides at first. Then a little girl, maybe six, with braids, holds out a muffin. “I’m Lyra,” she says. “Like the Princess you’re gonna have. Wanna share?”
Kade looks at Aria. Asking permission.
Aria nods.
Kade takes the muffin.
And just like that, my son is making his first pack friend.
Kai is less subtle. He’s already in the middle of a group of pups, showing them how he “beat up a bad man.” He’s got them riveted.
My chest hurts.
“Hey.”
Aria’s beside me. She doesn’t touch me. But she’s close.
“They’re okay,” she says. Doctor assessing her patients. “Kade’s heart rate is stable. Kai’s… Kai’s Kai.”
“They’re perfect,” I say. My voice breaks. “Gods, Aria. They’re perfect. And I missed—”
“You’re here now,” she cuts me off. Not kind. Not cruel. Just fact. “So act like it.”
A scream.
From the garden doors.
Young. Male. Beta.
He comes running in, eyes wild. “ROGUES! WEST TREE LINE! THREE—”
He doesn’t finish.
Because Kai moves.
One second he’s by the muffin table. The next he’s across the Hall.
Between the Beta and Kade.
And he growls.
Not a kid growl. Not a tantrum.
A wolf growl.
His eyes flash silver. His nails lengthen. His baby teeth look sharp.
The Beta skids to a stop. Goes pale. “Young Alpha— I didn’t—”
“Don’t run at my brother,” Kai snarls. His voice is layered. Human and wolf. Five years old.
The Hall goes dead silent.
Early shift. It’s impossible. Pups don’t shift until 13. 16 for weak bloodlines.
But Kai is pure Alpha line. And he’s pissed.
Kade starts crying. The sound snaps Kai out of it. His eyes fade back to blue. His nails retract.
He turns. Runs to Kade. “It’s okay. I got you. I’m here.”
He wraps his arms around his twin.
And Kade stops crying.
I can’t move. I can’t breathe.
Aria is already there. Checking Kade. Checking Kai. Pulse. Pupils. Shift recoil.
“He’s fine,” she tells me. Tells the room. “Early presentation. Triggered by threat response. He’s fine.”
She says it like she delivers cancer diagnoses. Calm. Certain.
Ryker is beside me. “Your Majesty.”
“I know.”
“Rogues. Victoria’s doing. She didn’t leave Wyoming.”
Of course she didn’t.
I look at Aria. At my sons. At my pack.
“Lock it down,” I tell Ryker. “Get Mara. Get the warriors.
“No one touches this Hall.”
Then I look at the Beta who ran in. He’s still shaking.
“Name,” I say.
“J-Jace, Your Majesty.”
“You ran to warn my son. You didn’t draw a weapon near him. You stopped when he told you.”
Jace nods, frantic.
“Good,” I say. “You’re promoted. Gamma. You’re on Kai’s guard. From now on.”
Jace’s mouth falls open. “But I—”
“My son chose you,” I say. “By stopping. By listening. That’s more than most warriors do.”
I turn to the Hall.
“BLACKWOOD PACK! MY SON SHIFTED AT FIVE TO PROTECT HIS TWIN.
“THE MOON HAS SPOKEN.
“THESE ARE MY HEIRS.
“THEIR MOTHER IS YOUR LUNA.
“ANYONE WHO CHALLENGES THAT…” I let my wolf into my voice. “...CHALLENGES ME.”
No one moves.
Then Kai, from the floor, holding Kade, says: “Can we still have muffins? After the rogues?”
A laugh. Nervous. Then another.
The tension breaks.
Mara claps her hands. “You heard the young Alpha! Muffins! Then we hunt rogues!”
The pack moves.
Aria comes to me. Her eyes are fire.
“Rogues,” she says. “At my sons’ first breakfast.”
“I know.”
“If they touch Kade—”
“They won’t.”
She looks at Kai. At the way he’s already recovered, already making Kade laugh again by making Mr. Woof ‘talk’.
“Thirty days,” she whispers. “You wanted thirty days, Kieran.
“You’ve got 26 left.
“Make them count.
“Because if another rogue gets this close to my boys…” She holds up the scalpel. Still there. Still bloody from yesterday.
“I’ll paint these walls with Victoria myself.”
My Luna. My Surgeon. My equal.
“Deal,” I say.
Outside, the howls start.
The pack is hunting.
And inside, my five-year-old just set the record for earliest Alpha shift in 500 years.
- Writer
