Who's My Triplet's Alpha Daddy? Novel

Chapter 109 Dec 25, 2025 POV: Lysander Two hundred threads. That's what being Alpha feels like-two hundred individual connections pulling at my consciousness every waking moment. Fear from the eastern patrol. Exhaustion from the night watch. Grief from the Morrison family. Hope from the expecting mothers. Pain from the wounded still recovering. All of it flooding through me constantly, drowning me in emotions that aren't mine but become mine the second they hit the pack bonds. I haven't slept properly in three weeks. Every time I close my eyes, the dreams come.

Pack members dying because I made the wrong call. Children orphaned because I positioned defenses incorrectly. Caroline bleeding out because I couldn't protect her. The scenarios shift but the outcome stays constant-my failure, their deaths. Magnus prepared Kieran for this from birth. Tactical training, leadership seminars, decades of grooming for the crown he'd eventually wear. I got "you're the spare, have fun with your life" and a generous allowance to fund my playboy persona. Now I'm making life-or-death decisions with zero preparation, and people are dying.

The cabin porch is cold at 4 AM. I don't feel it-the wolf keeps my temperature regulated-but I register it distantly, the way you notice details that don't matter when everything that matters is already broken. The pack bonds pulse with restless energy, two hundred lives I'm responsible for while I sit here staring at nothing. Sophia Morrison's thread went dark three hours ago. Nineteen years old. Infection from wounds she sustained in the last hunter attack. She had a full scholarship to veterinary school, wanted to help animals, had her whole future mapped out in careful, hopeful plans.

I felt her die through the pack bonds-the moment her consciousness flickered, dimmed, extinguished. I felt her terror when she realized she wasn't going to make it. Her pain as the infection spread faster than the healers could fight. Her parents' grief when her eyes closed for the last time. All of it. Every goddamn second. "You okay?" Caroline's voice behind me, soft with sleep and concern. I don't turn around because I don't trust my face right now, don't trust what she might see there. "Fine." The word scrapes out hollow and unconvincing.

"Lysander." Her footsteps approach, and then she's settling into the chair beside me, pulling her robe tighter against the cold air. "Talk to me." "Sophia Morrison died this morning." My voice breaks on her name. "Infection from wounds in the last attack. She was nineteen. Had a full scholarship to veterinary school. Wanted to help animals." Caroline's hand finds mine in the darkness, her fingers threading through mine with firm pressure. "I felt her die through the pack bonds." The words tear free, jagged and raw. "I felt her terror, her pain, her parents' grief. All of it.

And I couldn't do anything. Couldn't save her, couldn't stop the infection, couldn't-" I can't finish. My throat closes around the rest, around the admission that I'm drowning under the weight of a crown I never wanted and don't know how to wear. "Sophia's death isn't your fault." Caroline's voice is steady, certain in ways I can't feel. "You're keeping two hundred people alive during a war. That's not nothing." "Feels like it is." "That's because you give a shit." I finally turn to look at her.

The moonlight catches the blonde of her hair, the determined set of her jaw, the intelligence in her eyes that first hooked me and hasn't let go since. She's beautiful and fierce and carrying my child, and I don't deserve any of it. "Magnus never felt guilty when pack members died." Her thumb traces circles on my palm, grounding me. "They were just acceptable losses to him. Statistics on a ledger. Necessary sacrifices for the greater good." "Maybe that's easier." "Maybe." She shifts closer, her warmth pressing against my side. "But you're better than him because these deaths hurt you.

Because Sophia Morrison wasn't a statistic to you-she was a person. A nineteen-year-old with dreams and potential and a family who loved her." "Being better doesn't bring her back." "No." Caroline takes my hand and presses it to her stomach, to the barely-there curve where our child grows. "But it means our baby is going to have a father who understands that every life matters. That's not weakness, Lysander. That's strength." The pack bonds pulse with her certainty, her love, her absolute faith in something I can't see in myself.

My hand stays pressed to her stomach, feeling the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric, knowing that in a few months there will be a heartbeat there I'm responsible for too. "I don't know how to do this," I admit. "Kieran was trained for leadership. I was trained for board meetings and casual dating." "You're learning." Caroline's free hand cups my jaw, turns my face toward hers. "And honestly? You're better at the parts that matter than anyone gives you credit for. The pack feels it.

I feel it." "They feel their Alpha drowning." "They feel their Alpha caring." Her eyes hold mine, refusing to let me look away. "The lower-ranked families have been talking. You know what they're saying? That for the first time in decades, they feel seen. Valued. Protected." I want to believe her. Want to trust that the chaos in my chest isn't visible to everyone around me, that I'm fooling someone with this act of competent authority. "Sophia's parents." My voice comes out rough. "What do I tell them?" "The truth. That their daughter was brave. That she mattered.

That her Alpha mourns her loss." Caroline's thumb traces my cheekbone. "And then you authorize a proper memorial. Full pack ceremony. The kind Magnus never bothered with for anyone below Delta rank." The suggestion lands with unexpected force. She's right-Magnus's approach to pack deaths was efficient and clinical. Brief acknowledgment, immediate pivot to operational concerns. Dead wolves were inconveniences, not people. "Every loss counted as acceptable collateral," I murmur.

"Every funeral was two paragraphs and a form letter." "And that's why half the pack felt disposable under his leadership." Caroline pulls back, her expression turning sharp with Elle Woods intensity. "You want to be a better Alpha? Start by treating their grief as worthy of acknowledgment." I think about Sophia's parents. James and Margaret Morrison, both Omega rank, both absolutely devastated by the thread I felt snap through the pack bonds. Under Magnus, they'd get a brief condolence and be expected to return to duties by tomorrow.

"Full ceremony." My voice finds strength it didn't have five minutes ago. "Honor guard. Pack-wide attendance. Every rank, from Alpha family to Omega." Caroline's smile is soft but proud. "That's my Alpha." "I still don't know what I'm doing." "Nobody does." She leans in, presses her lips to mine in a kiss that's more comfort than passion. "But you're doing it anyway. That's the only version of strength that matters." The sun starts its climb toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of gray and gold.

The pack bonds pulse with the stirring of two hundred lives waking to a new day-some hopeful, some afraid, all of them my responsibility. Sophia Morrison died under my leadership. I'll carry that weight forever, add it to the collection of griefs that come with the crown. But I'll carry it openly. Honor it properly. Make sure everyone knows their Alpha sees them as people, not statistics. I stand, pull Caroline up with me. "I need to meet with the Morrison family. Plan the ceremony. Make sure Sophia gets the memorial she deserves." "I'll come with you." Her hand stays in mine.

"If they'll have me." "They'll have you." I squeeze her fingers. "You're going to be their Luna. Might as well start acting like it." The word lands between us-Luna, the title neither of us has spoken aloud yet. Caroline's breath catches, her eyes widening slightly before determination settles back into her features. "Then let's go honor our pack member." We walk toward the main compound as the sun rises. The pack bonds hum with grief and fear and stubborn hope, two hundred threads I'm learning to carry instead of drown under.

Sophia Morrison's absence echoes through the connection, a reminder of what leadership costs. But when the lower-ranked families gather for her memorial that afternoon-when they see their Alpha standing vigil for an Omega's daughter, when they realize their grief matters to their leadership-something shifts. The bonds pulse with something new. Trust. Archer