"Mom," Samantha managed, her voice somewhere between hysteria and laughter. "What are you doing here?"
Linda bustled past Callum with the confidence of a woman who'd raised a reality-bending daughter and considered cosmic horror warnings to be merely inconvenient timing. "Well, I couldn't just leave you all to fend for yourselves after this morning's excitement, could I? James and I thought you might need a proper meal."
James followed with an apologetic shrug, carrying what looked like three more casserole dishes. "She insisted. I tried to suggest calling first, but—"
"Nonsense," Linda interrupted, heading straight for the kitchen like she owned the place. "Family doesn't need to call ahead. Besides, the wards let us through, which means we're supposed to be here."
Through the bond, Samantha felt her mates' collective confusion mixing with reluctant acceptance.
