Chapter 223: The Luna’s Revenge

The next morning, soft sunlight filtered through the tall windows of the family study. The atmosphere was peaceful — at least on the surface.

Lya was seated in the wide leather armchair in front of the desk, legs crossed, one hand resting on her round belly. She hadn’t let Caleb or Loric out of her sight since waking up.

The latter, at that very moment, was sprawled on the floor, deeply focused on his spiral notebook, surrounded by crayons and toys. He hummed a made-up tune about a wolf eating cakes on a flying rocket.

Caleb, standing behind his desk, ran a hand through his dark hair. He was trying to look serious. He wanted to be serious.

But he had already seen that expression on Lya’s face. And he knew he was walking a very thin line.

“…So I called Drake and Malick,” he explained calmly, “to organize a rotating guard around you. Just as a precaution. I don’t want you left unprotected, even inside the manor.”

Silence.

Lya slowly turned her head toward him. Her gaze had lost all warmth.

“A rotating guard?”

Caleb cleared his throat.

“Yes. To keep watch over you—I mean, to protect you. In addition to me. I still need to manage some pack affairs without worrying that—”

“—I might growl at the gardener?” she finished, with a too-sweet smile.

Caleb opened his mouth, then thought better of it.

Lya stood up slowly, feline despite her curves, and stepped toward him. Her belly brushed the edge of the desk.

“You handled things perfectly last night, my Alpha, didn’t you? So why delegate? Do we really need to talk about who, exactly, was out of breath when I growled at you?”

Drake, who had just entered, quietly shut the door behind him and murmured to Malick:

“Is it just me, or does this smell like trouble?”

Malick, as stoic as ever, replied without taking his eyes off the scene:

“That’s not trouble. That’s slow-burning dragon fire. And Caleb just poured oil on it.”

Caleb, meanwhile, was trying to regain his composure.

“Baby… it’s not that I want to step away. I just want to… anticipate. Be prepared.”

“You want to be prepared?” she echoed, stepping closer again. “Fine. Here’s my forecast: you’re going to stay with me. All the time. Everywhere. Even in the bathroom, if need be.”

She gently tapped her claws on the desk.

“You triggered an instinct. You’ll now face the consequences, my king.”

Caleb raised a hand.

“Alright. No rotating guard. I’ll stay. I’ll sleep. I’ll breathe within the same square meter.”

Lya softened instantly, like a storm suddenly calming. She placed a hand on her belly and turned to Loric.

“You see, sweetheart? Daddy understood the lesson.”

Loric gave a thumbs-up.

“Daddy, you’re really good at obeying.”

Caleb rolled his eyes. Malick cracked a rare smile.

Drake, whispering low, added:

“A tamed Alpha. This day must be carved into pack history.”

And Lya, triumphant, returned to her seat like a queen reclaiming her crown. The hint of a smile on her lips. Calm, in control.

And Caleb, now seated at her side, wouldn’t have traded places with anyone.

The study had returned to silence. Drake and Malick had slipped out — not without exchanging a few mocking (or admiring) glances. Loric, absorbed in his drawing, was now sketching jam-breathing dragons chasing smiling wolves. The room was bathed in a golden, late-afternoon light.

Caleb had joined Lya on the couch. She had tilted her head against his shoulder, her forehead resting in the hollow of his neck. Her breathing was calm, though her fingers played absentmindedly with the buttons of his shirt.

“Do you think we’ll manage to get everything ready before Kaelan arrives?” she murmured, her voice husky with fatigue but filled with tenderness.

Caleb kissed the top of her head.

“We don’t need to get everything done. We just need to be here. Together. The rest… we’ll improvise.”

She smiled softly, eyes still closed.

“You’re only saying that because you haven’t seen the list I made for the baby’s room.”

“…You made a list?”

“I made four.”

He chuckled silently. One of those deep, rumbling laughs he gave only to her. He slid a hand over her belly, feeling a familiar little pressure beneath his palm.

“He’s moving,” he said.

“He recognizes you. He always reacts to your voice. It’s… it’s kind of magical.”

They remained like that for several minutes, soothed by Loric’s scribbles and Kaelan’s gentle kicks.

“You know what I feel, Caleb?” she asked softly after a long pause. “It’s not just love or anticipation. It’s something older. Vaster. Like… it was written. Like we were always meant to get here. The three of us.”

He looked at her, his eyes darker, burning.

“That’s because we were meant to. I always knew you were my future. And now… I feel it. I know that Kaelan is the future of the world. And that Loric, that little bolt of chaos, is his anchor.”

She lifted her head, eyes wet but shining.

“You know I’m going to cry if you keep talking.”

“You’re already crying,” he whispered, kissing her softly. Then added with a teasing murmur:

“And no growling now, alright?”

“I don’t growl when I’m emotional, idiot.”

“You’re beautiful when you growl.”

“Caleb…”

“You’re beautiful, period.”

She melted against him, overwhelmed, her heart full to the brim.

And in the corner of the room, Loric looked up, observed them for a few seconds… then went back to his drawing with a satisfied little smirk.

The next day

In the west wing of the manor, Kaelan’s room was slowly coming to life.

The walls were painted in soft, warm shades — deep midnight blue, pearly cream, and hints of copper. Hand-carved constellations by Soraya adorned the ceiling, ready to glow gently at dusk. The enchanted curtains, lovingly sewn by Elora, filtered light while diffusing a subtle sense of calm throughout the room.

But the centerpiece — the one that drew every eye — stood in the center of the room: a massive yet delicate cradle, entirely carved by Caleb himself.

The dark wood, streaked with golden veins, had been carefully selected. Every curve, every engraving had been shaped by the Alpha’s hand, often at night, in the workshop he had set up at the back of the garden. Stylized dragons guarded the edges. Wolves, sculpted in relief, seemed to run along the base. And at the back of the headboard, in an elegant flourish, Caleb had hand-carved the name of their unborn heir: KAELAN.

Loric stood in front of the cradle, arms crossed over his tiny chest, looking terribly serious.

“Well. It’s very pretty. Really, really pretty. But it’s missing… fun.”

Caleb, crouched beside him, raised an eyebrow.

“Fun?”

“Yeah! It’s a baby’s room, not a throne room. Kaelan needs to feel good. He needs to laugh. And for that, I have a plan. And an assistant!”

Lina, already recruited, rolled her eyes… but her smile betrayed a certain pride.

“Alright. Captain Loric and his decor squad on a mission.”

And off they went.

A few hours later, the room had… a more lively feel.

Enchanted leaves floated through the air like lunar confetti, changing colors based on the mood of those who entered. A magical garland, made of shimmering paper animals, stretched across the corners of the room. And most notably, a dragon made of origami sat proudly on the main shelf.

“His name’s Spitter,” Loric announced proudly. “When you say ‘gnark’, he spits fire. Well… a little bit.”

He shouted: — GNARK!

A burst of golden light popped from the paper dragon’s mouth.

Caleb jumped. Lina burst into laughter.