Two years later.
The pack lands were peaceful under the full moon.
Our son, Aiden, was running around the garden in his little wolf form — black fur like his father, silver eyes like mine.
Alexander watched him with that soft smile he only showed to us.
I leaned against him on the porch swing, my hand on my rounded belly — baby number two on the way.
"Who would have thought," I said quietly, "that the rejected Luna would end up here?"
He kissed my temple. "I always knew you'd be my queen."
Aiden shifted back to human, toddling over with grass-stained knees.
"Mama! Daddy! Look!"
He held up a flower crown he'd somehow made.
Alexander scooped him up, placing him between us.
"For Mama," Aiden said proudly, putting the crown on my head.
"Thank you, baby."
Alexander wrapped his arms
