Chapter 92 Babies and Buttered Biscuits
The heavy atmosphere in the room was broken by the sound of footsteps in the hallway.
Jax walked in first, his hand resting protectively on the small of Ginny’s back. She looked pale but steady, holding a steaming mug of herbal tea in both hands. Behind them, Magda, the Pack Healer, followed with her medical bag slung over her shoulder, looking like a woman who had just won a stubborn argument.
"Well?" Elana asked, stepping forward, her eyes darting immediately to Ginny’s stomach.
"Everything is fine," Magda announced, her tone leaving no room for doubt. She adjusted her glasses, looking strictly at Damon and Fennigan. "The baby is strong. Heartbeat is steady. But the mother..."
She shot a stern look at Ginny.
"...was running hot. Her blood pressure was through the roof. Adrenaline is not a food group, Ginny."
Ginny managed a sheepish smile, taking a sip of the aromatic tea. "I know, Magda. I know."
"We had to sit her down and get a full pot of calming blend into her before the numbers dropped back to a safe range," Jax explained, his voice sounding relieved but exhausted. "Magda wouldn't even pack her stethoscope until the systolic reading came down."
"And I wouldn't have left if it hadn't," Magda huffed, buttoning her coat. "But she's stable now. The tea is doing its job. Just keep her calm, keep her hydrated, and for the love of the Moon, stop running through the woods."
Leela let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding, walking over to squeeze Ginny’s arm gently. "Thank you, Magda. Seriously. We appreciate you coming so fast."
"I answer the call," Magda said simply, her expression softening as she looked at the young mothers. "Just take care of those cubs. All of them."
Damon walked her to the door, shaking her hand with a grip that conveyed more gratitude than words could. "We owe you one, Magda. Drive safe."
"You don't owe me anything, Alpha," Magda replied, opening the door. "Just keep this pack safe. That’s payment enough."
Elana watched the men lingering in the hallway—Fennigan pacing, Damon checking the locks again, and the Elders looking ready to debate strategy right there on the rug. She clapped her hands once, sharp and authoritative.
"Enough," Elana ordered, her voice cutting through the testosterone-fueled tension. "Go to the study. Close the doors. Drink the scotch. Figure out how to save the world."
She stepped between Damon and the twins, ushering the men away.
"We don't need to hear about war plans while we're trying to feed babies," she told them firmly. "Let us have a quiet evening. Let the pack see you working, and let us have some peace."
Damon hesitated, looking at his grandchildren, but Fennigan nodded. He knew his mother was right. They needed a war room, and the women needed a sanctuary.
"Go," Elana said softer this time. "We'll feed you when you're done."
As the heavy oak doors of the study clicked shut, sealing the men and their dark conversations inside, the atmosphere in the hallway instantly lightened.
"Come on," Elana said to the girls, turning toward the back of the house. "We aren't going to the main Dining Hall tonight. I don't want fifty pairs of eyes on us, and I certainly don't want to answer questions about why Magda was here. We’ll eat in the family kitchen."
Leela and Ginny followed her, grateful for the reprieve. The private family kitchen was smaller, warmer, and smelled of dried herbs and safety. It was a place where they could just be a family, not leaders or symbols.
"Up we go, little monsters," Leela murmured, lifting a squirming Caspian while Ginny grabbed the booster seat for Briar.
Together, they wrestled the twins into their high chairs at the end of the large pine table. The toddlers were starting to get fussy, sensing the shift in routine, but Leela was prepared.
She grabbed a tin from the counter and tossed two large, buttery biscuits onto their trays.
"There," Leela said, kissing the top of Briar’s head as the baby immediately grabbed the biscuit with both hands and shoved it into her mouth. "Carb coma. That should buy us twenty minutes."
Ginny laughed, leaning back against the counter, her hands resting on her own belly. "Best babysitter in the world: gluten."
"Alright, ladies," Elana said, tying an apron around her waist and pulling a heavy cast-iron skillet from the rack. "Let’s get these men fed. They’re going to need their strength."
She opened the massive sub-zero fridge and pulled out a stack of thick, marbled ribeyes—enough to feed four grown male wolves and three hungry women.
"Steaks and potatoes," Elana declared. "Simple. Hearty. Comfort food."
Leela moved to the sink to wash the potatoes, enjoying the mundane, grounding task. The cold water on her hands, the rough skin of the russets, the sound of Caspian banging his biscuit on the tray—it was all so normal. It was a stark, beautiful contrast to the lightning and fear of the morning.
"I'll season," Ginny volunteered, grabbing the salt and pepper grinders, mindful to stay off her feet as much as possible per Magda's orders.
As the smell of searing meat and rosemary began to fill the kitchen, Leela looked over at the closed door of the hallway. She knew that just down the hall, they were discussing the potential end of their world. But in here, with the clinking of plates and the twins' messy faces, life was continuing.
And that, she realized, was exactly why the Alpha was in that study fighting. So that moments like this could still happen.