Page 48 of Bad Wolf's Nanny
No sign of Red Teeth.
Yet.
But they had miles and miles of territory line to cover.
As Dane mounted his bike and revved the engine, his thoughts circled back, homeward.
To the warmth of the apartment.
The smell of cinnamon tea and that ridiculous lemon-scented laundry powder Lola insisted on using.
To the crib in the corner of his room because Samneverstayed asleep in his own.
To the woman who said the wrong thing more often than not but somehow always made the right call when it counted.
To the child who had no idea how completely he’d cracked Dane open.
He gunned the throttle and pulled out of the trees, the roar echoing like a war cry down the ridge as he followed the territory line.
Let Red Teeth come.
Dane would be ready.
And this time, he wasn’t just fighting for his pack.
He was fighting forthem.
Chapter 11 - Lola
Lola had never thought silence could be loud, but the last three days had taught her otherwise.
The apartment felt cavernous without Dane’s heavy footfalls or the low hum of his voice from the next room. Even Sam, nestled snugly against her chest in his sling, seemed to notice the difference. He kept squirming like he was searching for something, his little nose nuzzling against her shirt like he expected a deeper voice and stronger arms.
She rubbed his back gently, pacing the length of the living room for the hundredth time. The curtains were drawn, but she kept glancing at them anyway, half-expecting headlights to cut across them. Nothing.
It had been three days.
Three days without a call. Without a message. Not even a grunted“I’m alive.”
She wasn’t supposed to care this much. They weren’t a couple. They barely shared anything outside of feeding schedules and the occasional near-heart attack when Sam tried to roll off the sofa. But still, every time her phone buzzed with a notification that wasn’t from him, her heart clenched tight, then fell all over again.
Daisy hadn’t helped. She’d stopped by that afternoon, bright-eyed and cheerful, armed with groceries and unsolicited chatter.
“He’s fine,” Daisy had said quickly as she helped chop up vegetables for a hearty winter stew, “Felix wouldn’t send him if it wasn’t necessary. But…I suppose you should know. Red Teeth’s back. Or close, anyway.”
That had derailed Lola’s already-tenuous calm.
Now, as the sky outside darkened to deep plum and Sam grew heavier in her arms, Lola tried to will her thoughts elsewhere. Eventually, she coaxed him into his crib. He stirred once, sighed softly, and stilled again.
She stayed longer than she needed to, just watching him breathe.
The tiny weight of him was the only thing tethering her to anything that felt like a purpose. Her research, her independence, none of it meant much when she was standing in a darkened room, staring at an infant who might already consider her his entire world.
And she didn’t even know if his father was still alive.
She brushed a hand over her face and forced herself out of the nursery. Her laptop sat open on the coffee table, untouched. Several unread messages from Ethel lurked like sharks in her inbox. Her thesis document blinked patiently from the screen.
Chapter Four:Expectations on Alpha Males as Biological or Cultural Development.
