14
REBECCA
“And… there you go,” I smiled, bringing waffles to the table amidst the children’s exultations: it was Saturday, and waffles for breakfast on Saturdays were our tradition.
I didn’t even have time to sit down that the kids had already grabbed most of them, leaving
two (of the ten I had made) for me: not that I expected anything else, from two growing pups
with Alpha genes. Our species was quite voracious on its own, but when Alphas were involved,
you needed to guard your food.
“Jim, easy on the milk,” I recommended, noticing that he was trying to pour his own milk: both
kids were quite autonomous at the table, but sometimes had some difficulty with the jugs. He
nodded and pursed his lips to focus, carefully pouring the milk into his glass – and
succeeding.
“Mommy what do we do today?” Violet asked, topping her waffles with raspberries and
blueberries and a generous dollop of whipped cream. From the moment she woke up that
morning, my little girl had been absolutely restless, constantly doing something and looking
uncomfortable if she had nothing to do: she seemed chock–full of irrepressible energy.
“We could spend the afternoon at the park,” I proposed. It was mid–spring, it was starting to get warm and it was sunny: it would have been silly to waste that beautiful day indoors. “We
could take a walk, have some ice cream…”
Violet and James approved with laughter and clapping – especially when I did not reject their
addition, which they had previously discussed under their breath: stopping at Five Guys‘ on the
way back, for dinner.
As if the idea of not having to cook and tidy up the kitchen was so unappealing to me.
It had been two weeks since the day Jim and I had met Reiner at Madison Square Garden –
and thanks to the Goddess, nothing had happened: Reiner had not tried to contact us and Jim
had been absolutely serene. He had asked me a few questions about what had happened the
next day, but I had explained that, simply, a man had mistaken me for someone else. That
answer had been enough for him, and he had not asked me any more questions.
The first few days – and especially the first few nights – after that event had been terrible: I
could not close my eyes for days, and I kept looking around and over my shoulder to see if he
was around. Eventually, however, since there seemed to be no trace of him, I had relaxed: he
1/4
+8 Points
14
had most likely gone home, back to the pack, to do his Alpha duty.
I had not even received any communication whatsoever from the Council requiring me to
leave my pups to him, so I highly doubted that he had gone to them to ask for custody: the Council moved very quickly in certain cases, and the fact that there was silence on their part,
too, was reassuring. At the same time, however, that silence kept me on my toes: maybe
Reiner was still considering whether to go to them or not.
Unless he had other children, I had initially thought. Alphas rarely stayed on their own – and
after four years, it was very likely that Reiner had rebuilt his life with someone else. In that
case, he wouldn’t have needed Jim and Vi. That theory of mine had collapsed as soon as Ravi
and Wayne had managed to find out some information about him: for some reason, it had
been extremely difficult for them to get in touch with the pack – as if the Blood Moon pack had
suddenly erected an impenetrable wall to the outside world. They had only been able to find
out that he had neither remarried nor had any children – nothing else.
Sheila must not have been happy about that. That b***h had kicked me out of the pack to put
someone else by her son’s side – but she had not succeeded: and although the thought of her
failure made me smile, it also made me sad, because it meant that Reiner had never
recovered from the lies she had told him. And knowing he’d suffered so much was constantly
tearing at my heart.
In the end, that b***h had destroyed our lives and families for nothing.
The kids ran out of the kitchen as soon as they had finished their breakfast, laughing and
playing catch – and although they had left a mess on the table, I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. Watching them laugh and play, seeing how much they loved each other, was the most beautiful thing in the world. Their infectious joy could heal even the most battered heart.
“Come on,” I sighed, getting up and picking up the dishes to put them in the washing machine – and, in the meantime, beginning to think about what to make for lunch. After all, with two
small children and a house to keep up with, hours went by without even me noticing.
A furry tail rubbed against my leg, and I instinctively reached down to pet our cat: Vi, Jim and I had found him a few months before, still a kitten, on the bank of the Hudson River, crying desperately and trying to free himself from the bag in which he had been stuffed. Even if the kids hadn’t begged me to help and adopt him, I would have done it anyway: and so, Moses had joined the family. He didn’t seem to have a problem with our nature: in fact, my having an animal side allowed me to understand him better (something that had saved us several
hundred dollars in vet visits for jumpscares).
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49 Points
14
“You’re hungry, aren’t you?” I asked, fixing him some kibbles in his bowl and replacing his water. “It’s breakfast time for you too.”
The morning passed quietly – or at least, as quiet as a house with two rowdy children can be: at least, no one broke a bone or bled out on the floor, which was already an accomplishment. I even managed to get the children to agree on lunch: lemon stir–fried chicken was always a winning choice.
I had just started preparing it when the doorbell rang.
“MOMMY THE DOOWBELL!” Jim shrieked from their room.
“Yes, I heard, baby!” I answered him. “I’m going now!”
–
Strange – I wasn’t expecting anyone, I thought. Maybe it’s the porter – or Ravi and Wayne
inviting themselves to lunch.
“You stay in the house,” I warned them. That was a general rule in our house – the result of
years and years of military training and a lifetime spent in a pack. The pups remained
protected in the den.
They didn’t reply – they were probably too busy playing, which was a good thing. If they were
absorbed in their games, they wouldn’t try to run out.
Let’s see who it is.
I opened the door… and found myself in front of a huge bouquet of flowers, completely
covering the torso and the face of the person holding it.
“Mr. Bixby!” I exclaimed: after all, there could be no one but our lovely porter back there. “Give
them to me! But… who are they from?”
“Me“.
My stomach sank – and turned to ice as soon as the flowers moved, revealing the face of the
man holding them up.
That was not Mr. Bixby.
That was Reiner.
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