One Year Later
The nursery in Silverclaw Pack's main house was nothing like I had imagined.
Soft cream walls. Hand-carved wooden cribs. Sunlight streaming through windows that overlooked the forest where Lucian had grown up. Where our children would grow up.
I sat in the rocking chair, cradling Esme against my chest. She was sleeping peacefully, her tiny fist curled against my collarbone. White hair, so much white hair for such a small baby. She looked exactly like Lucian, down to the shape of her nose.
Leonardo was in his crib, dark-haired like me, making small cooing sounds in his sleep. My heart still couldn't quite process that they were real. That I'd carried them, birthed them, and now they were here.
Mine and Lucian's.
