Who's My Triplet's Alpha Daddy? Novel

Chapter 117 Dec 18, 2025 POV: Lysander The shift back to human tears through me with violence I don't have time to process, bones cracking and reforming while chaos erupts around us. Pack warriors clashing with hunter mercs, gunfire mixing with snarls, the guest house burning bright enough to turn night into sickening daylight. I'm naked and bleeding and absolutely done with whatever game we're playing.

Robert Montgomery stands twenty feet away coordinating his forces with the kind of tactical precision that says military background, proper training, years of practice hunting things faster and stronger than him. He's got a rifle slung over his shoulder, radio in one hand, directing his people with calm efficiency while my pack bleeds. "You sold us out." The words come out flat, lethal, stripped of the chaotic playboy bullshit I usually hide behind.

He turns, and something flickers across his face that might be guilt or might be exhaustion or might be the realization that this conversation ends with one of us dead. "I'm fixing my mistake." "Mistake?" My laugh is sharp enough to draw blood. "You coordinated a fucking massacre. Burned pack lands. Nearly killed my brother. That's not a mistake-that's a choice." "Tried to help you." His hand moves to the rifle, not quite pointing it but making the threat clear. "Tried to change.

Gave you intelligence, warned you about the attacks, told you everything I knew about Lia's plans." "And then betrayed us anyway." I'm moving closer, slow and deliberate, every muscle coiled for violence. "Led hunters straight to us while we were evacuating civilians. While children were running for their lives." "A hunter doesn't stop hunting." His voice goes hollow, resigned. "It's in the blood. In the training. In every lesson passed down through generations." The rifle comes up now, barrel aimed at my chest.

"You can try to change what you are, but biology wins eventually." I lunge before conscious thought catches up. The rifle discharges-bullet grazing my ribs, hot and burning but not stopping me. We collide hard, going down in a tangle of limbs, his training versus my supernatural strength in brutal hand-to-hand that has no rules except survive. He knows how to counter wolves. Knows the weak points, the vulnerabilities, where to strike to cause maximum damage despite the healing factor. Knee to my kidney, elbow to my throat, fingers seeking eyes with methodical precision.

But I'm fighting for Caroline. For the pack. For the home I'm trying to build that doesn't require burning everything to protect it. My fist connects with his jaw hard enough to feel bone crack. Again. And again. Methodical violence that strips away the chaotic mask completely, leaving only the vicious intelligence underneath. I get him down, knees pinning his chest, hands wrapping around his throat with pressure that could crush his windpipe if I squeeze just slightly harder. "Where's Caroline?" The words come out strangled, desperate, nothing but raw need.

"What did you do to her?" His smile is cruel despite the blood running from split lips, despite the bruising already forming, despite my hands literally choking life from him. "She's safe. Secured. Where you can't use her against me anymore." "I wasn't using her-" The accusation hits wrong, makes my chest tight with something that isn't just rage. "You bonded with my daughter." He spits blood, voice rasping but defiant. "Made her think she could have a life here, with monsters. Made her believe love was enough to overcome what we are." His eyes hold mine. "I'm saving her. From you. From this.

From choosing wrong." My hands tighten instinctively, about to snap his neck and end this conversation permanently. "Dad, stop!" Caroline's voice cuts through the chaos, through the burning and the screaming and the battle raging around us. She stumbles out from a cabin fifty feet away, wrists bound with zip-ties, blood crusting her temple, moving with the kind of unsteady gait that says concussion or worse. One of the hunter mercs has her. Big guy, tactical gear, gun pressed to her head with the casual ease of someone who's done this before.

"We had a deal, Montgomery." The merc's voice carries across the clearing. "Your cooperation for her safety. You're not cooperating." Robert's face goes absolutely white beneath the bruising. "Let her go. She's not part of this." "She's bonded to an Alpha heir." The merc adjusts his grip, gun barrel digging into Caroline's temple hard enough she whimpers. "That makes her part of this. Makes her leverage." The bond screams at me to move, to fight, to eliminate the threat touching what's mine. But the gun against her head is steady, professional, ready to fire the second I shift wrong.

"Call off your wolves or I put one in her brain." The merc looks directly at me now. "Alpha Lysander Fenris. You have thirty seconds to make a choice." Every instinct wars with brutal reality. I'm Alpha-I don't surrender, don't submit, don't show weakness. That's the lesson Magnus drilled into us from childhood. Never yield. Never compromise. Win or die trying. But Caroline's standing there bleeding and terrified and absolutely breakable, and winning means nothing if she's dead. The math is simple and devastating: her life or my pride. Not even a choice.

"Stand down." My voice carries Alpha command that makes every pack warrior freeze mid-fight. "Cease combat. Retreat to defensive positions. Now." The bond pulls at them-confusion, protest, the instinct to keep fighting warring with direct orders from their Alpha. But they obey. Warriors backing away from their opponents, shifting to human or holding position, weapons lowering reluctantly. The hunters back off but don't leave. Take up positions around the clearing, guns trained on my wolves, ready to resume the second someone makes a wrong move. They've achieved what they wanted.

Total submission. Complete surrender. Every wolf on their knees figuratively or literally, waiting for execution or mercy or whatever the fuck happens next. Robert's beneath me still, expression cracking with realization that mirrors my own. "She had Caroline. This whole time. Used her as leverage to-" "To force your cooperation." The pieces slot together with sickening clarity. "Lia orchestrated everything. Captured Caroline, threatened her, made you choose between helping us or keeping your daughter alive." "I thought I could do both." His voice breaks completely.

"Thought I could feed you information while still following orders. Keep Caroline safe while undermining Lia's plans from inside." His eyes close. "I was wrong." Everyone's been played. Robert didn't betray us by choice-he was coerced. I didn't lose Caroline because she ran-she was taken. We've all been dancing to Lia's choreography while thinking we had free will. Movement from behind the mercenary lines. Slow, deliberate, theatrical in the way only someone who's planned this moment for years would move. Lia steps into firelight, and she looks exactly like the photos Thalia found.

Blonde now instead of brunette, styled professional instead of pack-princess perfect, but unmistakably her. Same bone structure, same cruel smile, same eyes that hold nothing but vicious satisfaction. "Hello." Her voice carries sweet venom. "Miss me?" Archer