38-
Baylees POV
I’m still shaking when Caden carries me into the kitchen.
Not from pain.
Just the weight of it all.
The training ground. The blood. The way we didn’t hold back. The way we couldn’t.
I’m wrapped around him, legs tight around his waist, arms clinging to his neck like I’m afraid he’ll vanish if I let go. His hand never leaves my thigh. Steady. Warm. Anchoring me even as the air still tastes like iron and sweat.
The kitchen’s full—Alphas and Lunas scattered across the table, half-eaten plates of food in front of them, silence hanging heavy.
They all saw.
They don’t look away now. Eyes track every move as Caden walks straight to the counter, grabbing whatever’s left. Eggs. Meat. Toast. One hand. The other stays on me, fingers rubbing slow circles into the back of my kne
