Who's My Triplet's Alpha Daddy? Novel

Chapter 147 Dec 18, 2025 POV: Thalia Fifty cubs sit in perfect rows on the training lawn, their faces ranging from bored to terrified to inappropriately excited about violence. The pack school I built from nothing five years ago-back when "Luna's Education Initiative" was just a fancy name for "Thalia yelling at council members until they funded her"-now serves every young wolf in Silvermoon territory. Best decision I ever made. Besides the obvious ones involving a certain Alpha and three impossible children.

Luna stands at the front of the group, fourteen years old and already carrying herself with quiet authority. Her empathic abilities that once drowned her in other people's nightmares have been refined into something beautiful-she teaches emotional regulation now, helps young wolves understand their feelings before those feelings control them. "When you sense someone else's fear," she explains, her voice steady and sure, "you have a choice. Absorb it, which hurts you. Reflect it, which hurts them. Or acknowledge it and let it pass through you." A six-year-old raises her hand.

"What if I don't want it to pass through? What if I want to keep it?" "Then you're going to have a really bad time." Luna's smile is patient, earned. "Trust me. I spent years keeping everyone's emotions. It's not worth it." My daughter. Teaching healing instead of drowning in pain. The pride in my chest threatens to crack my ribs. Orion's not on the lawn-he's in the security center, probably explaining his latest system upgrades to pack members who can't quite follow his technical language. At fourteen, he's designed the security infrastructure used by three allied packs.

His hypervigilance from childhood trauma transformed into something productive, protective, essential. Last week, Alpha Chen called specifically to praise his perimeter detection algorithms. My son. Building fortresses out of code and paranoia. Phoenix leads combat training for the older cubs, demonstrating controlled takedowns with the kind of casual competence that makes my heart simultaneously swell and ache. Fourteen years old, strength finally mastered, dreams of joining elite guard dancing in her eyes. "Don't tense up before you strike," she instructs a twelve-year-old twice her size.

"Your body telegraphs intention. Stay loose until contact." The kid tries again. Gets flipped. Phoenix helps him up without mockery-she remembers what it felt like to be the strongest person in the room without knowing how to control it. I watch all three of them and something bittersweet settles in my chest. My babies are becoming adults. Orion's already talking about college-actual college, not just pack education. Luna wants to become a certified pack therapist, help other wolves the way she wished someone had helped her.

Phoenix dreams of protecting people instead of accidentally hurting them. They're growing up. They're leaving me. "Feeling old?" Kieran's voice comes from behind, warm and familiar. I don't startle anymore when he appears-five years of mate bond means I sense him approaching before I hear him. "Feeling grateful." I lean back against his chest when his arm wraps around my waist. "We almost lost this. So many times." "But we didn't." His breath stirs my hair. "We survived." The bond hums with contentment-five years of peace, of building, of actually living instead of just surviving.

Five years of waking up without checking for threats, of kissing my children goodbye for school without wondering if I'd see them again, of existing in the present instead of constantly preparing for disaster. "Remember when Phoenix threw that desk across her classroom?" The memory surfaces unbidden. "How terrified I was that someone would discover what she was?" "Remember when I couldn't shift for three months?" His arm tightens. "Thought I'd lost my wolf forever?" "Remember when Lia tried to-" "Let's not." He presses his lips to my temple. "The past is done. This is what matters now." This.

Our children, healthy and powerful and growing into themselves. Our pack, thriving under leadership that values every member. Our home, built from ashes and stubbornness and the absolute refusal to let anyone destroy us. "I love you." Kieran's voice drops, intimate despite the fifty cubs within earshot. "Still. Always." "I love you more." "Impossible." "Watch me prove it." He spins me around, captures my mouth with his before I can prepare. Five years of marriage and he still kisses me breathless-not the desperate consuming fire of our early days, but something deeper.

Banked embers that could roar to life with a single breath. We're standing in full view of training cubs. I don't care. Let them see their Luna happy. Let them understand that love exists after trauma, that happiness is possible after horror, that the people leading them know what peace costs and value it accordingly. Phoenix wolf-whistles from across the lawn. "Get a room!" "We have several rooms." Kieran doesn't break the kiss. "We're choosing to be here." Luna covers her eyes with exaggerated dramatics. "Mom. Dad.

There are children present." "You're all already traumatized." I pull back just enough to speak. "What's a little parental PDA on top of everything else?" The cubs are giggling now. Some look scandalized, some delighted, most just confused about why their Luna is making out with their Alpha in the middle of training. Welcome to Silvermoon. We're functional but weird. Kieran releases me with reluctance, his hand finding mine, fingers threading together with the ease of long practice.

We watch our children finish their respective sessions-Luna dismissing her emotional regulation class, Phoenix cooling down her combat trainees, Orion eventually emerging from the security center with a tablet and distracted expression. "The eastern sensors need recalibration," he announces without preamble. "Also, someone's been using the training dummies for target practice and it's throwing off my structural integrity readings." "That would be me." Phoenix raises her hand.

"My bad." "Please stop punching monitoring equipment." "Please stop putting monitoring equipment where I punch." The siblings bicker with comfortable familiarity-no real heat, just the endless negotiation of shared space and different priorities. Orion's logic against Phoenix's action against Luna's mediation. My children. Fourteen years old, already becoming who they'll be. Already stepping into futures I can barely imagine. Training ends. Cubs scatter toward parents and packmates.

The lawn empties except for our family, standing in the golden light of late afternoon, the bond humming between Kieran and me while our children argue about dinner options. Luna approaches after the others drift toward the house. "Mom?" Her voice carries something careful, something considered. "Can we talk about college?" The words hit my chest with unexpected force. College. My daughter, planning a future beyond pack borders. My baby, growing up. "Of course." My voice comes out steady despite the way my throat wants to close.

"What's on your mind?" "I've been researching programs." She falls into step beside me, Kieran and the others walking ahead. "Psychology degrees with supernatural specializations. There's a university in Portland that has connections to three different packs-they train therapists specifically for wolf communities." "Portland's not far." "No." She glances at me, those too-knowing eyes reading everything I'm not saying. "I'd come home for moons. For holidays. For whenever you needed me." "I don't want you planning your future around my needs." The words cost me, but they're true.

"I want you chasing what makes you happy." "Being close to family makes me happy." Her hand finds mine-my daughter, still seeking comfort from her mother even as she prepares to leave. "But I also want to help people. Want to be what I needed when I was drowning in everyone else's emotions." Pack therapist. My daughter, healing others because she remembers what it felt like to need healing. "I think that's beautiful." My voice cracks slightly. "I think you're going to be extraordinary." "You already think I'm extraordinary." "Because you are." She rolls her eyes with affection.

"You're contractually obligated to say that. You're my mom." "I'm contractually obligated to keep you alive and moderately fed. The compliments are genuine." We walk in comfortable silence for a moment. Ahead, Phoenix has somehow convinced Orion to race her to the house. He's losing, but he's laughing-my serious son, who used to plan escape routes instead of games, actually laughing. "Mom?" Luna's voice goes soft. "Thank you. For everything. For keeping us safe when we didn't know we needed protecting.

For fighting when we couldn't fight for ourselves." My chest aches with the particular pain of children becoming adults. "You're not a baby anymore," I manage. "Young woman. With dreams and plans and a future I can't wait to watch you build." "I know." She squeezes my hand. "But I'm always going to be your baby. That's how it works." Not baby anymore. Young woman. But always, always my baby. Archer