Who's My Triplet's Alpha Daddy? Novel

Chapter 130 Dec 22, 2025 POV: Lysander The aftermath looks like someone decided to film an action movie but forgot to hire the cleanup crew afterward. Dead mercs scattered across concrete, wounded wolves being triaged by pack members who definitely didn't go to medical school, the facility a smoking wreck that screams "federal investigation incoming." We have maybe twenty minutes before human authorities arrive to ask questions we absolutely cannot answer honestly.

Questions like "why are there bullet holes everywhere" and "whose blood is that" and "are those teeth marks in that guy's throat." Robert's coordinating extraction with military efficiency that would be impressive if he wasn't also the reason we're in this mess. He's directing wounded into vehicles, prioritizing based on injury severity, making sure no one gets left behind when we bail.

"Three vehicles, stagger departure by five minutes." His voice carries tactical certainty despite looking like death himself-blood on his tactical gear, face pale beneath grime, hands shaking slightly with adrenaline crash. "Different routes back to pack lands. Meet at the coordinates I'm sending." The pack follows his directions because apparently we're trusting the man who helped capture me with our escape logistics. The irony would be hilarious if I wasn't currently bleeding from multiple places and desperately needing sleep that won't happen for approximately seventeen hours.

Caroline's beside me in the second vehicle, pressed against my side despite space being available elsewhere. The bond hums with relief-she's alive, the baby's alive, we're both breathing against impossible odds. Her hand stays on my arm the entire ride, grounding herself or grounding me, probably both. Robert sits across from us in the truck bed, staring at nothing with the kind of thousand-yard stare that says he's processing what the fuck he just participated in. Helped us raid a hunter facility, shot his own people, coordinated the rescue of wolves he was supposed to be killing.

Twenty minutes into the drive, he speaks. "I need to talk to you. About Caroline." My jaw tightens automatically because nothing good ever starts with "we need to talk about your mate." "If you're going to threaten me-" "I'm not." He cuts me off, voice rough. "I'm asking-" The words crack and he's not the confident tactical advisor anymore, just a father who's lost everything except his daughter. "I'm asking you to take care of her. Protect her when I can't. Because I can't stay." The truck hits a pothole and we're all jostling, using the moment to process what he just said. Can't stay.

Present tense refusal, not future impossibility. "What are you talking about?" Caroline's voice is small, scared in ways the hunter facility couldn't make her. "I helped coordinate genocide." Robert's looking at his hands, probably seeing blood that won't wash off no matter how many showers he takes. "Led attacks on pack lands. Participated in torture. Enabled Lia's systematic destruction of an entire community." "Because she had me hostage-" Caroline starts. "Doesn't matter." He meets her eyes and there's nothing but resignation there. "Coercion is a defense, not absolution. I made choices.

People died because of those choices. Children died." The truck goes quiet except for road noise and pack members pretending they're not listening to this conversation. "I can't undo what I did." Robert's voice steadies, conviction replacing the cracks. "But I can stop running from it. Stop hiding behind justifications and complicated morality. I committed crimes. Multiple crimes. Against humans and wolves both." "Dad-" "Let me finish." His smile is sad, resigned, already saying goodbye. "I'm turning myself in. To human authorities.

Confessing everything I can without exposing supernatural elements. The deaths, the coordination with domestic terrorists-that's what I'll call Lia's operation-the violence I participated in." Caroline's shaking her head, tears already starting. "You'll go to prison. For years. Maybe decades." "Yeah." He says it simply. "I will. And that's better than I deserve." We stop for gas in middle-of-nowhere Montana, one of those stations that probably sees three customers a week and definitely doesn't ask questions.

The pack stretches their legs, checking wounds, trying to look less like we just participated in military-grade combat. Robert and Caroline step away from the group, walking toward the tree line for privacy. I'm watching through the truck window, every protective instinct screaming at me to follow, to interfere, to not let him hurt her more than he already has. But this is their conversation. Their goodbye. I don't get a vote. He's crying.

I can see it even from this distance-shoulders shaking, hands covering his face, the kind of breakdown that comes from carrying too much guilt for too long. Caroline's holding him, letting him fall apart against her shoulder, her own tears mixing with his. They talk for maybe fifteen minutes. Could be hours for all my perception of time matters right now, exhaustion and relief and residual terror making everything feel surreal.

When Caroline comes back, her eyes are red and swollen, makeup completely destroyed, looking nothing like the polished lawyer who walked into that facility wearing confidence as armor. "He's leaving." Her voice is hollow, scraped clean of inflection. "Turning himself in to human authorities for the crimes he committed. Thinks it's the only way to atone." "Caroline-" I'm reaching for her but she's already moving into my arms, pressing her face against my chest, shaking with sobs she's been holding back. "He made his choice." The words come muffled.

"Just like I made mine." She pulls back enough to grab my hand, pressing it flat against her stomach that's still completely flat, no visible evidence of the life growing inside. "My choice is you. This family. This pack. He knows that. Accepting it is his way of saying he loves me." The bond flares with her grief and determination mixed together, the complicated emotions that come from losing your father while gaining a future. Bittersweet doesn't begin to cover it.

We drive another four hours to the Montana border, to a police station in a town so small it probably doesn't have traffic lights. Robert sits in the back looking calm, resolved, already mentally preparing for what comes next. The pack parks down the street, far enough that we're not obviously connected but close enough to watch. Robert climbs out of the truck, straightens his tactical gear that's still covered in blood and evidence, turns to face Caroline one last time. "Be happy." His voice cracks but holds. "That's all I ever wanted for you. Find joy. Build a life.

Raise that baby to be better than their grandfather." Caroline's crying too hard to respond, just nodding, gripping my hand so tight my fingers go numb. Robert walks toward the station entrance with his head high, shoulders back, looking more like the military officer he used to be than the broken man who helped us escape. He pauses at the door, looks back once, raises a hand in farewell. Then he's inside. Surrendering himself to human authorities who will process him, charge him, probably lock him away for twenty years minimum given the body count.

We watch through the station windows as he approaches the desk, starts talking, gestures to himself. Within two minutes there are four officers surrounding him, weapons drawn, backing him against a wall while they secure him. He goes willingly. Doesn't fight, doesn't resist, just lets them cuff him and read him his rights and process him like any other criminal. The pack drives away, leaving him behind. One enemy neutralized through choice rather than death, through accountability instead of violence. Caroline's crying silently against my shoulder the entire drive back to pack lands.

I hold her, let her grieve, don't try to fix it because some things can't be fixed. Sometimes you just lose people. Even when they're still breathing. Even when it's the right choice. Sometimes goodbye is the only way forward. Archer