Chapter 115 It's A Village
Ginny slipped into the room a moment later, the door clicking softly shut behind her to seal out the drafty hallway. She held a warm bottle of milk wrapped in a soft burp cloth, the glass clouded with heat. She moved with the quiet grace of a mother who knows never to startle a feeding baby, navigating the rug to sit down on the other side of Leela on the overstuffed sofa.
She settled in, her own baby bump brushing against Leela’s side, effectively sandwiching the nursing mother between them in a fortress of warmth and soft flannel.
The room settled into a comfortable, heavy silence, broken only by the rhythmic crackle of the birch logs in the fireplace and the soft, wet sounds of Briar eating. The low hum of the jazz on the radio seemed to wrap around them, pushing the thoughts of Vane, the Council, and the books to the very edges of the room, keeping the darkness at bay for just a little while longer.
After about ten minutes, the rhythm changed. Briar stopped. She pulled back with a wet pop, her little chest rising and falling with a satisfied, milk-drunk sigh. A trickle of milk escaped the corner of her mouth, which Leela wiped away with her thumb. Briar looked up at her mom with sleepy, heavy-lidded eyes—that specific, glazed look of a toddler who is full, warm, and entirely safe.
Then, she turned her head slowly to look at Ginny.
She knew the drill. This was the routine.
Without a single fuss or a cry of protest, Briar let go of Leela’s shirt and reached her chubby arms out toward her aunt. Ginny was ready, her arms already open, scooping the warm, solid weight of her niece into her lap. She nestled Briar into the crook of her arm, the transition so smooth it was like water flowing from one cup to another.
As soon as his sister vacated the prime real estate, Caspian didn't hesitate for a second.
He took his fist out of his mouth, his patience expiring the moment the opportunity arose. He did a tactical scramble across the cushion, knees digging in, and snuggled deep into Leela’s side. He let out a little hum of pure, vibrating relief as he latched on, his hand immediately finding its way back up her sleeve to anchor himself against her skin.
Fennigan watched the seamless transition from his perch on the coffee table, his elbows resting on his knees. The firelight danced in his golden eyes as a small, awestruck smile played on his lips. He was watching a biological ballet—a synchronization that no amount of military drilling could ever replicate.
"You two have got this down like a well-oiled machine," he told his wife and his sister-in-law, shaking his head in quiet admiration. His voice was low, reverent. "No verbal commands needed. No negotiation. Just instinct."
"It's the village, Fenn," Ginny whispered, rocking Briar gently as she offered the bottle. "We don't do this alone. We were never meant to."
Briar, comfortable in her aunt's arms, popped the bottle nipple into her mouth for a "top-up," holding it there with one hand like a little queen. But her eyes weren't closed anymore. They were fixed on the man sitting in front of her.
She pulled the bottle out for a second, a droplet of milk glistening on her chin. She stared at him, her brow furrowing slightly, and then reached her chubby little hand out toward him, opening and closing her fingers in a demanding, grabby motion. Him. Now.
Fennigan’s face melted. The hard lines of the Alpha General, the man who was planning a war, dissolved instantly. He leaned forward, his large hands hovering for a second before he reached out.
"There's Daddy's girl," he cooed, the rumble of his chest deep and soothing.
He lifted her out of Ginny’s lap, her weight nothing to him, and settled her against his broad chest. She immediately curled her legs up, fitting perfectly against him.
"You didn't forget about me, did you?" he whispered into her hair, inhaling the scent of milk and baby shampoo.
Briar rested her cheek against his shirt, the bottle clutched in one hand and her other hand tangling into his collar, twisting the fabric tight. She let out a long breath, finally content now that the circle was closed. The whole pack was exactly where they were supposed to be—tangled together on a sofa, safe, warm, and alive.
Jax slipped into the room a moment later, moving with the silent, predatory grace of a Beta patrolling his den. He didn't make a sound on the hardwood floor, stepping onto the plush rug and navigating the maze of legs and coffee tables without disturbing a single dust mote.
He slid onto the empty cushion beside Ginny, his presence immediately changing the gravity on that side of the sofa.
Ginny didn't even look at him; she just let out a heavy, bone-deep sigh and leaned back against him. She let her full weight drop, trusting him to catch her. Jax shifted instantly, wrapping a strong arm around her shoulders and tucking her into his side, his hand coming to rest protectively over the swell of her belly where his own child was resting.
"Rough shift?" Jax whispered against her temple, kissing the side of her head.
"They went boneless, Jax," Ginny murmured, eyes closed, soaking up his warmth. "Boneless."
Jax chuckled, a low vibration that Ginny felt against her back. "Tactical limpness. It’s a classic move."
For a few precious minutes, the picture was complete. Fennigan and Leela with the twins; Jax and Ginny with the new life. The fire crackled, Briar snored softly against her father’s chest, and Caspian nursed rhythmically, his little hand flexing against Leela’s arm.
It was the kind of peace that felt heavy, like a warm blanket. It was the "why." It was the reason they fought, the reason they bled, and the reason they were about to break every law in the book.
But peace in the Blackwood house was a borrowed luxury.
The spell was broken not by a sound, but by light.
Twin beams of high-intensity headlights swept across the drawn curtains of the family room, illuminating the dust dancing in the air and cutting through the warm, orange glow of the fire.
The crunch of heavy tires on gravel followed a second later, audible even through the thick stone walls.
Fennigan stiffened, his head snapping up, the Alpha instantly overriding the father. The softness in his eyes vanished, replaced by cold steel.
"They're back," Fennigan said, his voice low.
Leela shifted, breaking the latch with a soft pop as Caspian grunted in protest. She pulled her shirt down, shielding herself, her face hardening.
"That's Dad's car," Jax confirmed, listening to the engine cut. "Which means Veda is here."
The sanctuary of the family room seemed to shrink. The outside world had just pulled up to the front door.
"Showtime," Fennigan whispered, standing up carefully with the sleeping Briar still clutched in his arms. He looked at his family. "Let's go see what the Matriarch has to say."