ROXANNE

Later that night, the pack house was bathed in silence. I was sitting by the window in the nursery, watching the moon rise, when the door opened.

It was Alpha Alejandro.

He looked tired. His shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, and his hair was mussed, like he’d been running his hands through it all day. He didn't come in; he just stood in the doorway, looking at me.

As if my son suddenly felt his father's presence, he began to kick aggressively. I needed no soothsayer to tell me that the little one couldn't wait to be here. He couldn't wait to meet his father.

I placed my...