4 days later *Cynamon* “What are you doing outside Young lady ... and playing around with Blue ? Are you not supposed to stay in bed ?” Zac’s voice does not sound happy as he stands on the back porch with his arms crossed. ‘Breathe Cy’. Zyka quickly says. ‘Do not bite off his head … Imagine how much worse an Alpha would have reacted’. “No sweetheart ... The doctor told me to relax and not do strenuous things, he never said anything about staying in bed”. I throw the toy to Blue. “Also ... I am not bleeding anymore”. He jumps down from the porch and almost swipes me into his arm. “For real ? Not even a little bit ? And you think that our jelly bean is ... still holding on ?” “I don’t really have any way of knowing Zac ... but I hope”. I let my arms slip around his neck. “Oh wow, you are really sweaty today”. Zyka lets out a low appreciative growl. ‘I think he smells yummy’. “Cardio ... I am in such bad shape”. He grins. “I thought you liked my sweat”. I run a hand into his da
*Cynamon* “Are you okay Zac ?” I ask him as we walk into the doctor's office. I have noticed him tensing up more and more on the way here and growing unusually quiet. He squeezes my hand softly. “It’s just ... what if … what if there is no more jelly bean ? I mean I know the doctor said it mostly works out fine ... but ...”. ‘Aww’. Zyka purrs. ‘He is as precious as a pup … must protect him at all cost’. “Then ... we talk about it, work through it and ... try again”. I say softly. I mean I know it wasn’t planned, but I have gotten so used to the idea of us having a baby, that we are going to be a real family, that I kinda want it to happen no matter what. “For real ?” He looks at me, smiling brightly. “You would do that for me ... get pregnant again now ?” ‘Oh I so would’. My wolf sighs. I can’t help but giggle softly. “Well honestly Zac, it would not be for you but for us. I am not ready to let this go either ... you kinda have me hooked on the ‘being a family’ idea”. He grab
10 weeks later *Cynamon* “Aww look at her ... jelly bean is getting so big”. Zac is looking at the screen and it is clear to see the excitement on his face. I have had no complications the last ten weeks and the nuchal scan went perfectly, so we are now having a private 3D scan to see if they can see the sex of the baby. Zyka is almost as excited as Zac about it. “Yeah, the baby is about the size of an apple now and growing fast”. The doctor says with a friendly smile. “An apple”. Zac looks like he is imagining an apple. “We could name her Apple ... that is kind of cute”. ‘He is not naming our pup after a fruit’. Zyka huffs. ‘Stop him Cy, the jelly bean thing is bad enough’. I shake my head. “No, we are not calling our baby Apple ... I mean Apple Peters ... nope not gonna happen”. “You might be right, it has a ... not lucky ring to it”. He bites his lip. “So doctor, will you please tell Cynamon here that it is a girl ?” I roll my eyes. “I didn’t say it isn’t a girl Zac ... j
*Cynamon* I can’t help watching the excitement on Zac’s face as we walk into the store, his eyes light up and his attention is everywhere, trying to take it all in at once. And it is of course there are a lot of things to see. Zyka is of course purring about how cute he is. “Hello ... Can I help you ?” A woman hurries over with a friendly smile. She looks nice, but I do not want her questions or risk that she recognise Zac, so I give her a smile. “Hi ... No thanks, we are just browsing a bit”. “No problem, if you need me or have questions just call and I’ll be there”. She is still smiling widely, her focus luckily on me. “We will ... Thank you”. I give her a small nod before pulling Zac with me down an aisle. Zac looks at me. “Maybe some help could have been good. I mean I don’t know much about this”. “She would have asked questions Zac ... when I am due ... the sex ... yada yada and then, she might recognise you and ... can you see the tabloid tomorrow ?” “Oh ... yeah of cou
10 weeks later *Zac* “Baby where are you ? I want to show you something”. I call softly walking into the living room. Marshall is helping me with the nursery ... or well Marshall is building the nursery while I pick up stuff for him, point where I want things and paint a bit. I find her rolled up on the couch with Blue, sleeping soundly. The last couple of weeks she has been a bit tired, but the doctor told us there is no need to worry, apparently the little jelly bean is growing a lot right now and it kinda drains her off energy. “Hi boy ... are you watching our girls huh ?” I sit down on the floor beside the couch, scratching Blue behind the ear when he opens one eye to look at me. His head is snuggled up against her growing stomach. It seems like he knows something is going on. I notice how one of her hands is resting on the bump ... the other one is resting on Blue’s back. And it makes my heart swell. I still can’t believe how much my life has changed these last 6 months. I
*Cynamon* “Lets go inside ... you wanted to show me something, right ?” I start to get up and of course Zac is instantly on his feet, wrapping me up in the blanket. Zyka purrs. ‘He is such a gentleman’. “Yeah come on darling. I wanted to show you how far we’ve come with the nursery”. He puts his arm around my shoulder. I can’t help smiling. “I seriously can’t believe you went ahead and actually built a whole new room for her ... you are spoiling her rotten before she is even born”. ‘He can spoil me as much as he wants … any time he wants’. Zyka sounds like a loved up teenager. “I want her close to us, but with the possibility to close the door … just once in a while”. He chuckles softly. He went with his crazy idea, building a small annex next to the bedroom, it can be opened as kind of an extension to our room or if needed closed ... turning it into 2 separate rooms. “Oh so you are expecting you will still be getting ... special alone time after she is born”. I have my arm
1 week later *Zac* “Nick ! Nick ! I need you”. I call through the house ... where the hell did he go ? I told him that I need him for this. The door open and LZ comes in, he takes one look at me and grab his phone, snapping some pictures. “This ... you in an apron, that is just too good not to eternalise”. “Have you seen Nick ... the bastard deserted me”. I make a face. “I have no idea how long to bake this”. He sends me a cheeky grin. “Why are you baking ? Is there someone you want to kill ? Because I am sure there are easier ways then”. “Well actually right now I do have this urge to kill someone ...”. I huff just as the door opens and Nick walks in. “Nick ... help ... how long should I bake it ?” He looks into the oven and then he starts to laugh rather uncontrollably. “God Zac, that recipe was for 12 small or 6 normal cupcakes ... it said so on the top of the paper, you need to read it all”. “Ohh ... I thought it looked a bit big, but I can just bake it longer right ?” O
*Cynamon* Right now I am regretting telling Zac I can do this alone, because being 25 weeks pregnant and carrying five boxes of miniature cupcakes are ... let's say it as it is ... not easy, and being me of course I wanted to carry them all at the same time, because ... Well I am lazy. And Zyka is going. ‘Watch out, curb ahead … don't tip them’. Doesn’t help. I am in Austin, at a kinda cake, candy and chocolate trade show, convention thing. It’s a great place for getting you things noticed and tomorrow there is a competition I am entering. Zac had wanted to come to support me, but I told him no, too big of a chance of getting noticed. “Oh wow ... let me give you a hand there doll”. I hear a friendly and melodic voice. “That’s a lot you are carrying, especially in your condition ... oh I really hope you are pregnant or I just like totally fucked up ... here let me take some”. The three top boxes are lifted away and a beautiful young blonde woman is smiling at me. “Thanks, and I a
*Zac* The sun dips low on the horizon, casting hues of orange and pink across the sky as laughter and music spill out of our backyard. I glance around, soaking in the vibrant scene before me. The air is thick with the mouthwatering scent of Cukier’s famous barbecue, and I can already hear the sizzle of meat on the grill. “Is everything ready, Cukier?” I call out, catching a glimpse of my brother-in-law, his brow furrowed in concentration as he flips burgers and hot dogs with the finesse of a master chef. “Absolutely! Just about to throw on the corn,” he replies, a hint of pride in his voice. There’s something about his determination that makes me smile. He seems to always be the responsible one, but tonight, he’s relaxed, enjoying the moment with all of us. I turn my attention to the rest of our guests. The yard is a tapestry of familiar faces: Cynamon’s family, the werewolves who’ve come to celebrate. Her Aunt Elowen is chatting animatedly with LZ, her laughter ringing like m
*Cynamon* It feels so good to be home. I am standing on the back porch with Zac, hearing Cukier and Nick bickering like an old married couple inside in the kitchen, as they are cooking dinner. But one thing is missing, my baby. Then it is like the air shimmers and a small tickling reaches my ears and there is LZ and Evangeline. A bundle nestled in LZ's arms. I pull away from Zac, a warm glow blooming in my chest. The world around us is shifting… freedom for my kind is within our grasp, and yet, right now my heart races only for our little girl. “Clementine,” I murmur, my eyes darting to the grass where I see LZ cradling her with such tenderness. I can’t help but smile at the sight. ‘She’s safe, Cynamon. Breathe,’ Zyka whispers softly, her voice like a gentle breeze brushing through my mind. I nod, feeling the reassurance wash over me. Zac squeezes my hand, grounding me. “Let’s go see her,” he says, and I can hear the eagerness in his voice. We make our way over to LZ, who is
*LZ* I sit on the soft mossy floor of the sanctuary, Clementine nestled against me, her tiny body rising and falling rhythmically with each breath. The gentle glow of the flowers around us flickers softly, like tiny stars caught in a moment of stillness. I don’t know how long we’ve been here in this place that feels like a dream, but there’s a strange comfort in the uncertainty. Each day is a blend of wonder and worry, punctuated by the need to keep Clementine safe. As I absently stroke her hair, my eyes wander to the enchanted window. Outside, the world bursts with life. Creatures of all shapes and sizes dart through the twilight, their calls ringing like chimes in the wind. A small, furry creature with bright blue fur and large, curious eyes hops by, stopping to peer at us as if assessing whether we’re friend or foe. I chuckle softly at its antics, and it seems to sense my amusement, giving a playful leap before scampering off into the underbrush, leaving behind a trail of sparkli
*Zac* I can hardly believe my eyes as a helicopter's blades slice through the air, kicking up a storm of dust and debris. My body tenses, not sure if this is good or bad. The moment I see the figure stepping out, my heart skips a beat. It’s President Karina Horton, flanked by Nick and Cukier. They managed, they got to the actual president. The small group stride forward with an air of authority that demands immediate attention. "Let him go!" Karina's voice booms, cutting through the chaos like a knife. The guard holding me tightens his grip, but there's a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. The President’s presence is magnetic, and even the bravest of men can feel their resolve wavering in the face of such power. "You are not in charge here… I take my orders from Braxton Hayes or Syler Smith only," the guard barks back, but I can see the sweat beading on his forehead, his confidence faltering with each passing second. “I am your President, and my orders outrank any other,” Karin
*Cynamon* I am sure this is where my life ends but suddenly, a piercing alarm shatters the tense silence of the room. The doctor's head snaps towards the sound, a mix of irritation and urgency crossing his features. He rushes to the intercom, pressing the button and speaking into it, but the blaring alarm drowns out his words. I strain to catch any hint of what's happening, but it's useless.He returns to me, a cruel smirk twisting his lips. "It seems your human mate has made an appearance," he says, the syringe still in his hand. Then he mutters, mostly to himself. “What an idiot.” I trash against the restraint, “Zac is here, at the compound?” "If that’s his name, yes and you should be happy. You'll see him again soon, in the afterworld… or wherever freaks like you go,” he says. Panic surges through me, a tidal wave of fear and desperation. They can't hurt Zac. Not him. Not my mate. Clementine will need her father. Inside me, Zyka stirs, her presence growing stronger, fueled by
*Evangeline* The pain in my wing is sharp, a constant reminder of the bullet that tore through it. I grit my teeth, focusing on the road ahead while my magic works to heal the wound. It's more severe than I let on, but I can't show weakness now, Zac needs me to be strong. I know the magic will mend it in time, but for now, every movement sends a jolt of pain through me. Zac's voice breaks through my thoughts, a mix of concern and urgency. "You don't have to come with me, Evangeline. I know it's dangerous, but I... I can't wait any longer. But if you stay behind, I'll understand." I glance at him, seeing the fear and determination in his eyes. He's worried about dragging me further into this mess, but he doesn't realize that I'm already in too deep. "I'm coming with you, Zac. We're in this together," I say firmly, gripping the steering wheel tighter. The thought of what might happen at the compound sends a shiver down my spine, but the risk is worth it if it means saving Cynamon
*Zac* The air crackles with the sound of gunfire. I see Evangeline's face, I am not sure I have ever seen anyone look that furious, but her eyes are full of determination, as she throws that paperweight. Then, it feels like the world is a blur. One second, I'm staring down the barrels of several very scary-looking guns; the next, I'm falling. Falling really fast to a certain dead. The wind screams past my ears, a deafening roar that drowns out the shouts and the still-echoing gunfire. As the ground rushes up to meet me, I close my eyes, hoping for a miracle. Suddenly it is like time slows, or actually I slow. My eyes springs open and Evangeline is there, holding me, her face pale, but her eyes blazing with relief. Those goddamn fairy wings are unfurled, shimmering like iridescent stained glass in the twilight. She looks strained, almost burdened by something heavy. Me. Her breathing is slightly laboured. She lets out a groan, and I feel like apologising for my size,
*Evangeline* The polished floor gleams under the harsh fluorescent lights of the corridor. My hand, still clasped tightly in Zac's, feels clammy. Each step echoes, amplifying the tension that coils in my gut. This place… it reeks of sterile efficiency, a thin veneer masking something far more sinister. Zac’s words about horrors still hang in the air, a chilling echo in the silent, imposing hallway. We're led into a vast, minimalist office. Braxton Hayes, the CEO, sits behind a massive desk, his face a mask of controlled composure. He looks like a hawk, sharp and predatory, his eyes scrutinizing us. “State your business,” his voice is smooth, devoid of any warmth. It's the voice of a man accustomed to power, accustomed to getting what he wants. Zac steps forward, his jaw tight. “We know about the werewolves.” The CEO raises an eyebrow, a barely perceptible movement. “I assure you, you have the wrong end of the stick.” His voice is laced with a disarming calm, a deliberate
*Nick* A week. A week of dead ends, each one a fresh stab of despair. Then, a crumpled napkin, discarded near an overflowing ashtray in a dimly lit bar… a name scribbled on the back: Miles Kendrick. Low-level security, gambling debts visible in the tremor of his hand, and a weakness for expensive bourbon. Cukier’s eyes, usually hidden behind a screen of nervous energy, gleam with predatory amusement. “Our key,” he murmurs, the words a low purr. “A little… persuasion, and Kendrick will be more than happy to unlock the President’s private suite. For a price, of course.” The Grand Hyatt looms, a steel and glass monolith against the bruised twilight sky. Inside, the air hangs thick with the scent of polished marble and expensive perfume, a stark contrast to the stale beer smell clinging to Kendrick. Cukier, a chameleon in a perfectly tailored suit, moves with a practiced grace that borders on supernatural. He isn’t just walking; he is gliding, his presence subtly erasing itself from t