Page 63 of The Alpha King's Mate

“Come,” Sorin said, his hand finding mine, guiding me gently out of the cell and back into air that didn’t taste like rot.

As soon as we stepped outside, I inhaled the evening air, letting it fill my lungs and chase away the last traces of that suffocating cell. Alpha Grayson had vanished, and so would my family. There would be no threat to our pups. Ever.

The visiting packs had all left, their convoys long gone, but the Bloodborne pack carried on without them—music still drifting from the garden, laughter rising and falling in easy waves, the warm glow of lanterns visible even from here. I could hear the frivolity, distant and golden, and it made me smile despite everything I’d just seen.

I placed a hand over my belly, feeling the quiet, steady warmth beneath my palm.

It was time to look forward. Time to rebuild.

Epilogue

Sorin

Arabella came first, squalling at the top of her lungs, and although she fit in one hand, I was terrified to hold her. I was brave for Aliana’s sake anyway. Amalie was surprisingly chilled, following much faster.

But the one we almost lost was Ayla.

The smallest. The angriest.

Aliana blamed me.

How was it my fault that she got stuck up there?

Now, here they were, five months later, gaining weight at a steady pace while we fulfilled our life’s purpose by feeding our family. All of my trauma had been worth it for my girls.

The longer I spent with my family, the stronger I got. Every day, a little more of my fear fell away. Watching how Aliana handled our pups gave me the confidence I needed. Malakh was utterly useless. The triplets could go off and commit mass murder, and he’d be ready to bury the bodies and organise a patsy for the crime.

Actually, Zira and Malakh were both in the same camp. We most definitely balanced them out.

Amalie cooed and slapped her mother’s name on my chest. I caught her tiny paw and blew a raspberry against it. We were rewarded with a giggle that warmed us both.

My girls’names were inked there now, and there was plenty of space left for more.

Good luck with that. Our mate has put a kibosh on that plan, Malakh grumbled.

I grazed my fingers along Amalie’s plump cheek. She glowed bronze beneath the morning sun.

Sometimes I couldn’t breathe—so much love overwhelmed me, arriving in waves, always strongest when I was with the girls. They were all so different, and yet somehow all the same.

Hours. I spent hours and hours just watching them.

If it weren’t for our Luna and her delicious scent, I’d have been committed by now. Only the ones closest to me knew how far gone I truly was.

We were a well-oiled machine now—months of trial, error, and at least one memorable incident involving a diaper explosion had made us this efficient.

I whispered sweet nothings to Arabella as I settled her against my shoulder, one hand rubbing slow circles against her back, her small weight warm and solid through the thin cotton of her onesie. She smelled of milk and lavender soap, that particular baby-scent that Malakh had gone half-mad over the first time he’d caught it.

Beside me, Amalie suddenly remembered how ravenous she was, her cries rising sharp and insistent, demanding, as always, immediate satisfaction.

Ayla’s face scrunched up in outrage at the noise, her tiny brow furrowing with the same fierce temper she’d had since the moment she was born.

I didn’t blame her. The audacity of Amalie’s crying disturbing her while she was busy suckling the royal nipple of creamy goodness.

You need help, Aliana interrupted, not even bothering to look up from where she’d settled Ayla back against her chest.

She could say anything she wanted, as long as she sat on her throne every night.

Her eyes flicked up to mine.