Sorry, Alpha. You’re Not His Dad Anymore Chapter 12

Sorry, Alpha. You’re Not His Dad Anymore Chapter 12

years later, Theo suddenly shifted into a wolf at the breakfast table.

1 second, he was stealing strawberries from my plate.

The next, a gray-and-silver wolf pup tumbled off his chair tangled in the tablecloth, jam smeared all

over his face.

“Dad!” he shouted through our family link. “Did you see me?”

Rowan was meeting with six Alphas in the next room. He crashed straight through the door.

“I see you.”

Still dressed in formal attire, he dropped to his knees on the carpet and let Theo leap against his chest with jam-covered paws.

The six Alphas gathered in the doorway, each looking more stunned than the last.

No one could believe that the Lycan King, who could make hundreds of wolves submit on the

battlefield, would crawl around the floor, helping a wolf pup chase his own tail.

I leaned against the door frame, resting a hand over my stomach, which hadn’t yet begun to show.

Rowan noticed the movement and stood immediately.

Theo clung to his back.

“Dad, I wasn’t finished playing!”

“Your sister is awake.”

“She’s still inside Mom. How can she be awake?”

“I can hear her.”

“I want to listen too.”

The two of them pressed their ears to my belly at the same time, and I laughed so hard I could barely stand,

Blackthorn territory lay on the far side of the continent.

Damian remained its Alpha and had rebuilt the hospital.

He closed the surgical center that had borne his name and used the money to establish a medical fund for pups. The first rule of its charter stated that no child needed a father’s signature to receive emergency bloodline treatment.

It didn’t earn him forgiveness.

It merely meant he was finally taking on the responsibility that should always have been his.

Every year on Theo’s birthday, Damian sent a carefully chosen gift. None bore the Blackthorn crest

or implied an inheritance, and he never asked for anything in return.

Theo always wrote a polite thank-you card.

The recipient was addressed forever the same: Alpha Damian.

That was the only place Damian had left in Theo’s life.

Not dead.

Not forgiven.

And never allowed to forget what he had lost.

Rowan took my hand.

“Come here, my mate.”

This time, the word didn’t sound like ownership.

It sounded like an invitation.

I walked toward him because I wanted to.

6

years ago, Theo had used every ounce of his courage to beg an Alpha to be his father.

In the end, the man who had never demanded the title became the dad who answered every single

time Theo called.