The Luna and her Quadruplet Pups by Jane Above Story

Chapter 8 The Woman

Jane

“She was so perfect.” | moan, taking a sip of wine while Linda listens sympathetically. “I wanted to run away with her then and there.”

“It’s a good thing you didn’t.” My friend advises. We’re out on her front porch, enjoying a late afternoon cocktail and discussing the shocking events of the day. “It was risky enough just spending time with her. If you took her, Ethan would hunt you to the ends of the earth.”

“I’m going to have to figure out a way to take her eventually. She belongs with me, with her siblings.” | insist, feeling positively overwhelmed after everything that’s happened over the last few days.

“We’ll figure it out.” Linda assures me. “For now we should just be thankful he didn’t figure out you’re alive.”

“What if he did?” I ask anxiously.

“Honey, you have to trust the death certificate the coroner forged for us was enough.” Linda reminds me, “We covered our bases. You’re safe.”

“There’s no such thing as safe when it comes to alphas.” || remind her. “That kind of power … it knows no limits. Besides, it’s not only that, it’s Paisley… she knew what I look like, she told me I look like her Mommy.” As much as hearing the precious creature say those words tugged at my heartstrings,

her repeating the sentiment to her father. “How do we know she didn’t tell

to parrot everything they hear. The last thing one should ever do is assume

about you, he would already be banging on our door.” Linda replies, trying to comfort

home in a fit of rage melds with my nightmarish memories, resurrecting ghosts of the life I left behind. That same fate would await me if Ethan ever found out l’m alive. I can’t go back to being a slave, a tool for some power-hungry alpha to use and abuse like I mean nothing at

well in my eyes, “He can’t find out, Linda. He’ll take

woman you were back then. You are so much more than you ever were or wanted to be.

time. At that moment my driver pulls up, delivering my pups from the daycare center I booked for our time in the city. The back door

babies!” I cry, hugging Ryder, Parker and Riley as close as possible and showering them

nerves. Parker climbs into my lap and begins singing a silly song he made up with his teacher today, spouting lyrics about a “frog on a log in a bog, who went for a jog but

performing effortless pirouettes and leaps to her brother’s tune, “Mommy look at me!” Clearly her ballet classes are paying off, though | imagine her dance instructor wouldn’t approve

steps and waving his hands like a composer. Every now and then he calls out an instruction to his siblings, encouraging them to give their

else’s children I would assume they planned this, but my pups are so precocious I have no doubt they’re improvising. Before long Linda and I have collapsed in a puddle of laughter, the pups climbing on

young family is incomplete. Ryder, Parker and Riley give me more joy than

a stark reminder that one piece of my heart is

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