Who's My Triplet's Alpha Daddy? Novel

Chapter 126 Dec 18, 2025 POV: Caroline Walking into the hunter facility feels exactly like that time I decided skydiving would be "fun and empowering" except instead of a parachute I've got a wire taped under my shirt and a knife I definitely don't know how to use without accidentally stabbing myself. So basically, same energy. Less screaming though. Mostly internal. Robert's beside me playing the part of concerned father with Oscar-worthy dedication, which would be touching if he wasn't also the reason my mate is currently caged in a basement torture cell.

The wire itches against my ribs, transmitting every sound back to the pack, and I'm trying really hard not to think about what happens if Lia's people do a thorough pat-down. Spoiler: I die. Probably slowly. Definitely painfully. The facility looks exactly like Robert's blueprints promised-Cold War nightmare architecture meets modern security paranoia. Chain-link fence, concrete structures that haven't seen aesthetic updates since Reagan was president, guards with tactical gear who look like they eat protein powder and steroids for breakfast.

Lia's waiting in the entrance, backlit by fluorescent lighting that makes her look almost angelic if angels were psychotic and hell-bent on genocide. She's wearing business casual that probably cost more than my first car, blonde hair styled with the kind of precision that says she woke up at 5 AM for this meeting. Type A psychopath. The worst kind. "Caroline." Her smile could freeze margaritas. "How domestic.

Finally decided where your loyalties lie?" My heart's trying to escape through my ribcage but I channel every theater performance, every moot court argument, every time I had to convince a professor that I actually did the reading. Performance mode activated. "My father nearly died because of me." I let real anger bleed through because it's not even a lie-Robert did nearly die, I am furious about being caught in this blood feud, and using genuine emotion makes the best liars. "Because I chose them over family.

I'm fixing that." The words taste like battery acid and broken promises but I sell it. Let Lia see my anger, my sense of betrayal, the human fragility I'm actually feeling beneath the performance. She studies me with the kind of intensity usually reserved for dissertation defenses and police interrogations. I meet her eyes without flinching, which honestly deserves an award because she's terrifying in ways that have nothing to do with physical threat. Finally, she smiles. "Welcome back." Two words. That's all the trust I get.

Two words that mean I'm either incredibly convincing or about to die in creative ways. Robert's hand settles on my shoulder-steadying, supportive, the concerned father act playing perfectly. "She's been through trauma. The wolves used her, manipulated her into thinking that Alpha actually cared." "He got her pregnant." Lia's voice holds vicious satisfaction. "That's commitment. Or stupidity. Possibly both." My hand moves to my stomach automatically, protective instinct overriding performance training. "The baby doesn't change that he lied. That they all lied.

Using me to get to my father, to compromise hunter operations." The lie tastes worse than the others but I commit. Everything's a performance when you're trying to survive, and right now I'm performing for an audience of one who'll kill me the second she suspects I'm playing her. "I want to see him." The request comes out before I can stop it, probably not in the script Robert and I practiced, but screw it. "Before you-before whatever you're planning. I want him to see what he lost." Lia considers this.

"Supervised." "Obviously." Ten minutes later I'm descending into basement levels that smell like mildew and institutional despair. Two guards flank me, rifles casual but ready, and every step feels like walking toward execution or salvation and I'm really unclear which. The cell comes into view-silver bars, concrete walls, one drain in the corner I'm aggressively not thinking about. And Lysander. He looks like hell. Blood crusts his temple, bruises mottle his ribs, silver burns mark his wrists from the chains they're using to restrain him.

But his eyes are still sharp, still tracking my movement with the kind of focus that says he's analyzing seventeen different scenarios simultaneously. That's my mate. Chaotic playboy mask stripped away leaving vicious intelligence underneath. The second the guard unlocks the door-keeping weapons trained, maintaining distance-Lysander's pulling me into his arms with desperate need barely controlled. We can't kiss properly with guards watching, with guns pointed at both of us, with the performance requiring I maintain some distance. But we don't have to.

The bond sings between us bright enough I feel dizzy with it-I'm here, I'm okay, the baby is okay, we're both still breathing against impossible odds. "I'm getting you out." The whisper barely makes sound, lips brushing his ear. "Tonight. Be ready." "Caroline-" His hands tighten on my waist, holding me closer despite the audience. "Trust me." I pull back before the guards intervene, meeting his eyes with certainty I don't entirely feel.

"I didn't come this far to lose you now." The look he gives me says everything words can't-I love you, I'm terrified for you, I believe in you, please don't die doing something heroically stupid. "Time's up." Guard voice, professional and detached, probably bored with supernatural drama. I let them escort me back upstairs, back to the room Lia's designated as my temporary quarters, back to pretending I'm choosing hunters over the man whose child is currently growing inside me. The wire itches. Reminder that I'm transmitting, that the pack is listening, that every word matters.

Robert visits around eight PM with food I can't eat and small talk that serves as cover while I memorize layouts visible through windows, guard rotation patterns, the soft mechanical sounds that indicate where security cameras are positioned. Night falls and the facility settles into different energy. Fewer personnel, quieter corridors, the kind of minimal staffing that happens between shifts. I activate the wire properly around 2 AM, speaking softly while moving through hallways I'm supposedly exploring due to insomnia and pregnancy hormones making sleep impossible.

"Northeast section, second floor." My voice barely carries. "Orion's in room 2-14. Two guards outside, rotating hourly. Luna and Phoenix are separated-third floor, opposite ends. Security's tight but there are weaknesses." I'm describing camera blind spots when footsteps approach. I pivot smoothly, examining a vending machine with intense focus that would make method actors weep. Guard passes without questioning. I wait thirty seconds before continuing. "Lysander's basement level, cell B-7. Silver bars, electronic locks that cycle codes every six hours.

Current code should be valid until 0600." Robert fed me that intelligence, betting his daughter's life on information accuracy. I move toward the northeast entrance, the service door Robert identified as the weakest point. Minimal cameras, structural vulnerabilities in the frame, positioned far enough from main security that response time is slower. "Northeast entrance. Service door." I'm speaking faster now, urgency bleeding through. "Minimal cameras, frame's compromised-looks like water damage weakened the structure. Strike at 0300 when the guards change shifts.

You'll have maybe four minutes before-" "Who are you talking to, Caroline?" Lia's voice cuts through from behind me. Close. Too close. How long has she been standing there? How much did she hear? I turn slowly, channeling every ounce of Elle Woods confidence, every courtroom argument, every time I convinced someone I belonged somewhere I definitely didn't. "Myself." The lie comes smooth as silk, punctuated with self-deprecating laugh that sounds almost genuine.

"Pregnancy brain is real and if I don't verbalize my thoughts I forget where I'm going." She studies me with expression that promises painful death if I'm lying. "Interesting habit." "Law school trains you to think out loud." I'm already moving past her, heading toward my designated room with casual confidence. "Helps organize complex information. You should try it sometime." Her hand catches my arm. Grip tight enough to hurt, tight enough to remind me exactly how breakable I am. "If you're playing me-" She leans close, breath hot against my ear.

"If you're feeding them information, compromising this operation-" "Then I'd be the world's dumbest double agent." I meet her eyes without flinching. "Wearing a wire into a facility full of people trained to detect surveillance? Please. Give me some credit." The casual dismissal either sells it or damns me. Probably both. Lia releases my arm, smile returning with knife-edge precision. "Get some sleep. Tomorrow's going to be interesting." She walks away and I'm left standing in the hallway, wire still transmitting, heart trying to punch through my sternum. Did she hear? Does she know?

Did I just compromise the entire operation? Twenty-four hours until the pack breaches this facility. Suddenly that feels like eternity and not nearly long enough. Archer