Pregnant With Alpha’s Genius Twins

#Chapter 219 – Missing

“Come on, mama,” Alvin says, tugging at my hand and leading me towards the broken-down old house.

“Alvin,” I hiss, pulling him back. “We can’t go in there – it’s a ruin –“

He frowns at me, confused. “Mama,” he says, “the forest brought us to this house. Don’t you think it wants us to go in?”

I screw up my face at him, looking around at the forest. All my anger from yesterday is gone – drained from me. The questions…well, they’re still there. I certainly want answers. But I’m starting to suspect, really, that what tipped me over into anger in the first place yesterday was the forest.

The magic of this place might be mostly invisible to me, but it’s certainly working its will in its own mysterious ways.

“I don’t know if I trust this forest anymore, Alvin,” I say, looking down at him with concern. “I mean, it just separated us from your dad and your brother. How do we know that it’s friendly?”

“Can’t you feel it, mama?” Alvin asks, giving my hand a squeeze. Then he closes his eyes and smiles, breathing deeply from his nose as if he’s refreshed. “I just know it’s good.” He opens his eyes and his smile broadens. “If you can’t feel it, then you just have to trust me.”

“But why,” I say, frowning down at him. “I mean, I trust you, but why would the magic want to separate us from your dad and Ian?”

Alvin just shrugs at me. “Maybe we needed to be separated.”

I sigh, then, and let him pull me towards the house.

The steps at the front look about ready to crack as I put my feet on the first one, but I’m surprised, in the end, when it bears my weight steadily without even a creak. Encouraged, Alvin hops up the stairs, happy and excited.

I fight my fears, then, and insist upon opening the door first, not willing to let my child be the one on the front lines.

“Hello?” I call, looking into the room. No one – and no thing – answers me.

Instead…

nose in the air, sniffing, my wolf’s senses taking

Warm, and savory, with a hint of spice and sweetness. What on

to his stomach. We’ve been eating regularly this whole expedition, but it’s just been easy, light meals. Dense, easy-to-carry things like granola bars and

“We can’t

at him a little bit. These boys – they were getting a little two saucy for me as they approached 7. “Mama, there’s no one here – the magic put that food

in the forest – all that I can accept. But a magical breakfast laid out for us in the woods?

ridiculous,” he says, throwing his hands in the air. Then,

it as well. “They say to eat some breakfast,” I murmur, noting internally that we didn’t bring our

it’s just a one-room cabin, but also because I’m starting to believe my son when he tells me the magic is working its own

sworn I saw cobwebs, and broken furniture, and rotted wood. But now, inside? It’s cozy. The wood that lines the room is warm and rich. The furniture is patched but clean. There’s even a little

And the table…

mouth falls open when I see

up a blueberry muffin that I swear – I swear – is identical to the ones my grandmother made me when I was a little girl, and which I

this and smiles, giving it

raised, tossing the muffin between

from the edge

lot of mythology as a kid that said that the one thing you’re not supposed

me with eyes too wise for his six years, “maybe to get to the other side, you have to keep going deeper.” He picks up a cookie and holds

it. He’s right. I snatch the cookie out of his hand, giving him a little bitter smile. “Fine, you win,” I say, quickly snatching a

as he begins to ladle stew into his bowl. “What does that

say, sitting down at the table and