Who's My Triplet's Alpha Daddy? Novel

Chapter 112 Dec 18, 2025 POV: Lysander The convoy rolls back into the mountain retreat at dusk looking less like victorious warriors and more like survivors of a particularly aggressive natural disaster, which isn't far from the truth. Three vehicles, twenty-six wolves total when we left, twenty-six wolves returning but significantly worse for wear. Pack medics swarm the second we park, triaging wounds with the efficiency of people who've gotten way too much practice lately.

Sarah's leg wound gets priority-bullet went clean through but she's lost enough blood that her skin's gone vampire-pale. Marcus's nephew has a concussion that probably requires actual hospital monitoring except we can't exactly show up at an ER explaining supernatural warfare injuries. Thalia's shoulder and thigh need stitches that Caroline's already coordinating, pulling supplies from our rapidly depleting medical stores. Kieran's hovering despite his own wounds-defensive cuts across his ribs, bruised knuckles, the kind of damage that comes from close-quarters combat.

"We won." The words taste strange, like victory shouldn't require this much blood. "Three hunter operations destroyed. Supplies captured. Intel secured." The pack members who stayed behind are watching with expressions ranging from relief to horror, processing the evidence that fighting back works but costs more than any of them expected. Morale's higher than it's been in weeks though. There's something about proving you're not helpless prey, about taking the fight to the enemy and surviving, that shifts the entire emotional landscape from terrified to cautiously hopeful.

But the cost is carved into every wounded wolf, every exhausted face, every medical supply we burn through treating damage that wouldn't have happened if we'd just kept hiding. Twelve wolves seriously wounded. Resources strained past the point where "making do" becomes sustainable long-term. And Lia's still out there, now knowing we're actively hunting her, probably planning whatever comes next with the kind of vicious intelligence that's kept her three steps ahead this entire time. "The next encounter will be worse." Kieran voices what we're all thinking while a medic wraps his ribs.

"She knows we're coordinating assaults now. Knows we have her intel. She'll adjust, fortify, prepare for us coming after her." "Good." My voice comes out harder than intended. "Let her prepare. We're done being predictable." The strategic debrief happens in the main cabin despite everyone being exhausted enough that standing upright requires concentration. Maps spread across surfaces, captured documents analyzed, three successful operations dissected for lessons learned and mistakes that almost got people killed.

"The Wyoming compound yielded the most actionable intel." Kieran's got that tactical brain fully engaged despite the pain medication trying to make him fuzzy. "Communications equipment, supply manifests, proof that six other hunter families are coordinating with Montgomery operations." "Six families." The number lands heavy. "We're not fighting one vendetta. We're fighting a coalition." "Which means taking down Lia only solves part of the problem." Thalia's voice carries despite the exhaustion and pain medication. "The infrastructure remains.

The other families continue operating." "One problem at a time." I'm already calculating how we leverage captured intel into broader operations. "We find Lia. End her coordination role. Then we dismantle what's left piece by piece." The meeting dissolves when it becomes clear nobody's brain is functioning well enough for strategic planning. We'll reconvene tomorrow when people can think without medication interference. I'm heading for my cabin-desperate for shower, sleep, approximately seventeen hours of unconsciousness-when Caroline appears running across the clearing.

She slams into me hard enough to hurt, arms wrapping around my waist, face buried against my chest. "You came back." "Always." My hands find her hair, her back, needing physical confirmation she's real and here and kept her promise about staying alive. "Don't do that again." Her voice is muffled but fierce. "Don't leave me here terrified while you go fight hunters and mercs and whatever else tried to kill you today." I'm kissing her before conscious thought catches up, swallowing whatever else she was about to say.

She kisses back with the desperation of someone who spent hours wondering if they'd ever get this chance again. When we break apart, both breathing hard, I can't stop touching her-hands framing her face, thumbs stroking across cheekbones, confirming she's solid and real. "I need to tell you something. About the bond." The words I've been avoiding for weeks, terrified of the weight they carry. "I already know." She cuts me off, eyes wide and certain. "I felt it. While you were gone, I felt you.

Like this pull, this connection that told me when you were in danger, when you were hurt, when you were coming back." My chest tightens around the implications. "Mates. We're mates." Saying it clearly, no hedging, no room for doubt or misinterpretation. The bond chose us the same way it chose Kieran and Thalia, the same way it's been choosing compatible pairs since wolves first walked the earth. She processes this information while I hold my breath waiting for panic, rejection, the reasonable human response to discovering you're supernaturally bound to someone forever.

Then she laughs-slightly hysterical but real. "Your family really doesn't do anything halfway, do they? Can't just date casually. Has to be mates and forever and biology making the decisions." "Is that a yes?" My voice comes out rougher than intended. "To being your mate? Tied to you forever by biology and magic and whatever else?" She's still laughing, still pressed against me, still very much not running. "Yeah. That's a yes." The relief that crashes through me is strong enough to make my knees weak. "You're sure? Because once the bond fully completes, there's no take-backs.

You're stuck with me." "I'm already stuck with you." Her hands find my face, force me to look at her. "Have been since you carried me to that couch months ago and stayed because I asked. The bond's just confirmation of what I already knew." I'm kissing her again because words aren't adequate for the gratitude and relief and absolute certainty that she's mine and I'm hers and nothing about this is temporary. The moment shatters when Marcus appears at the cabin door, expression grim enough that I know whatever he's about to say will make everything exponentially worse. "Emergency message.

From Robert Montgomery." My stomach drops through the floor. "What?" "He says Caroline's in danger. That Lia knows she helped us." Marcus is reading from his phone, voice carefully neutral. "That she sent mercenaries. They're going after Caroline's apartment, her office, everywhere she might be." Caroline goes rigid against me, all the warmth from moments ago evaporating into terror. "My apartment." Her voice comes out strangled. "Lysander, my roommate's there. Jessica.

She doesn't know about any of this, she's just-she's human and normal and if they go after her thinking she's me-" I'm already pulling out my phone, dialing Jessica's number. Straight to voicemail. "We need to go." Caroline's moving toward the vehicles. "Now. We need to warn her, get her out-" "It's a trap." The certainty hits me with brutal clarity. "Lia's not going after your apartment. She's using the threat to draw us out. To separate us from pack protection." "I don't care if it's a trap!" Caroline's voice climbs. "Jessica could die because of me. Because I helped you.

I'm not letting that happen." The choice crystallizes with devastating simplicity-stay here where it's relatively safe but abandon an innocent human to whatever Lia's planned, or go after her knowing we're walking into exactly the trap she designed. "How long ago did Robert send the message?" I'm already moving, already making decisions that'll probably get us killed. "Twenty minutes." Marcus follows, clearly reading where this is going. "If they hit the apartment first-" "Then we're already too late." I grab keys, weapons, everything we can carry. "But we go anyway because Caroline's right.

We don't abandon people just because it's tactically inconvenient." Kieran appears in the doorway, Thalia right behind him despite being wounded and medicated. "We're coming with you." "Like hell you are." I'm already heading for the vehicles. "You're both barely mobile. Stay here, coordinate defense in case this is elaborate distraction." "Lysander-" "That's an Alpha command." The words taste like power and certainty I don't entirely feel. "Stay. Defend the pack.

Caroline and I handle this." Caroline's already in the passenger seat, phone pressed to her ear trying Jessica's number for the seventh time. "Still nothing. Lysander, what if they already-" "Then we make them regret it." I start the engine, already calculating drive time versus whatever timeline Lia's working with. "And if this is a trap, we spring it so hard she'll wish she'd stayed hidden." The mountain retreat disappears in the rearview mirror and we're racing toward Portland, toward an apartment that might hold a terrified roommate or a squad of mercenaries or both.

Toward whatever trap my mate's psychotic sister prepared specifically for us. And I'm absolutely certain we're about to do something catastrophically stupid. But Caroline's my mate. Her people are my people. And driving away to stay safe while someone innocent dies isn't actually an option regardless of what tactical thinking says. The bond pulses between us-recognition, certainty, absolute commitment to facing whatever comes next together. Even if "what comes next" is probably going to try very hard to kill us both. Archer