Who's My Triplet's Alpha Daddy? Novel

Chapter 88 Dec 25, 2025 POV: Thalia The first wave hits at 9 AM when our stock price drops fifteen percent in under an hour. I'm in the Portland office reviewing depositions when my phone explodes with alerts. Market manipulation at scale-someone's systematically shorting Fenris Legal Group, coordinated sells timed to maximize damage. My hands shake scrolling through the trading data because this isn't amateur hour. This is surgical, professional, expensive. "Thalia." Marcus from our IT department sounds like he's aged ten years since yesterday. "We have a problem.

Multiple problems." The cyber attacks started twelve minutes ago. Ransomware encrypted half our client databases. Another attack corrupted backup servers. A third is systematically deleting cloud storage across every regional office. I'm already moving, grabbing my bag, shouting instructions to associates who look terrified. "Call every client personally. Warn them their files might be compromised. Get our cybersecurity team on this now." The drive to Seattle takes three hours that feel like thirty.

My phone keeps buzzing-more attacks, more breaches, more systematic destruction of everything we've built. Someone's not just attacking Fenris Legal Group. They're trying to erase it. The Seattle office comes into view and my stomach drops. Red spray paint covers every window, every exterior wall, the parking structure, even the goddamn sidewalk. The same phrase repeated over and over in letters twenty feet high: GET OFF OUR TERRITORY. I'm out of my car before the engine dies. Security guards stand around looking useless, executives cluster by the entrance whispering.

The lobby looks like a crime scene-more red paint, overturned furniture, shattered glass from planters someone threw through interior windows. "Ms. Fenris." Security lead approaches with tablet in hand. "We have footage." The video plays on a loop that makes my blood run cold. Dozen people in tactical gear and masks, moving with military precision. In through the south entrance, split into teams, systematic destruction across three floors. Out through emergency exits in under three minutes total. Professional. Planned. Terrifyingly efficient.

"Did anyone try to stop them?" My voice comes out flatter than I intend. "We tried. They had some kind of device that disabled our communications. By the time backup arrived, they were gone." He looks ashamed. "They knew exactly what they were doing." I'm studying the footage frame by frame-the way they move, the equipment they carry, the coordination that speaks to serious training-when his scent hits me through the building's ventilation. Cedar and smoke. Kieran. He appears in the lobby entrance and my heart does this stupid thing where it forgets to beat properly.

Four hours from Portland, probably drove like a maniac the whole way, definitely shouldn't be here given he's still healing from hunter-inflicted wounds that nearly killed him two weeks ago. "You came." The words catch in my throat. "You're my mate." He crosses the ruined lobby like the destruction doesn't exist. "Bond or not, that doesn't change." His hands frame my face and I'm drowning in storm-grey eyes that promise violence to whoever did this.

The mate mark on my throat pulses recognition even though we're trying to live without its influence, trying to choose each other instead of being chosen. His jaw clenches as he surveys the damage, every line of his body radiating controlled fury. "We're going to find whoever did this and make them regret being born." The viciousness in his voice reminds me why I fell for him in the first place. Not the bond, not biology forcing connection. This-the absolute certainty that he'll burn the world to protect what's his. "They're sending a message." I pull up the security footage on my phone.

"Look at the precision. This isn't vandalism, it's psychological warfare." "'Get off our territory,'" he reads from the spray-painted walls. "What territory? We're a law firm, not pack expansion." My investigative instincts kick into overdrive. "That's the question. Someone believes Fenris Legal Group is operating somewhere we shouldn't be. Encroaching on claimed ground." "Could it be another pack? Business rivals?" "No pack would risk exposure like this-too public, too many human witnesses." I'm already pulling up company records on my laptop. "And business rivals sue.

They don't coordinate military-grade attacks." Kieran's watching me work with that intensity that makes my skin feel too tight. "What are you thinking?" "I'm thinking someone sees us as invaders. Which means we need to figure out where we're supposedly invading." My fingers fly across keys. "Land acquisitions, corporate mergers, client expansions-anything that might explain territorial claims." Hours blur together. Kieran handles damage control-insurance, security upgrades, client reassurances. I dive deeper into Fenris Legal Group's history, chasing connections that feel just out of reach.

The phrase keeps circling my brain. Our territory. Not your territory, not this territory. Ours-possessive, claimed, defended. "Try Magnus's old files." Kieran appears with coffee I didn't ask for but desperately need. "Dad kept records of everything going back decades. If there's territorial overlap, it'll be there." The archives are digital now but organized like Magnus never left the twentieth century. I'm three hours deep in acquisition records when something catches my eye. Twenty years ago. A controlling interest purchase that barely made internal memos. Montgomery & Associates.

Colorado Springs location. Small firm, decent client list, nothing remarkable. Except the client specializations-estates, trusts, mercenary contract negotiations, liability protection for tactical operations. My hands go cold reading the details. "Kieran." My voice sounds strange in the empty office. "I found something." He's beside me in seconds, reading over my shoulder. "Montgomery & Associates handled legal issues for families with specialized needs." I pull up the full client roster. "Look at the names.

Montgomery, Harrison, Chen, Rodriguez-these aren't random trust fund babies." His sharp inhale says he's seeing it too. "They're hunter families." The words taste like ash. "This firm managed their legal infrastructure. Estates passed down through generations of hunting. Contracts for their mercenary work. Liability protection for operations that definitely weren't legal." "And when Fenris bought them-" "We inherited those clients without realizing what they were." My legal mind is already racing through implications. "To the hunters, we're not just competitors.

We're occupying their territory. Their legal firm, their infrastructure, their claimed space." The office feels too quiet. Outside, Seattle's evening traffic hums. Inside, we're staring at evidence that Fenris Legal Group unknowingly declared war on hunters twenty years ago. "They think we're encroaching." Kieran's voice is deadly soft. "They think we took what's theirs." "Not think." I tap the screen. "Legally, we did. This firm was theirs for generations. We bought it, absorbed it, put the Fenris name on their territory." His hands clench into fists.

"Which means-" "Which means this isn't random violence." My throat closes around the words. "This is retaliation. And it's just getting started." Archer