Page 124 of The Reluctant Alpha

Danny paused mid-bite. "He did?"

I nodded. "He cares about you. We all do."

Danny was quiet for a moment, his eyes suspiciously bright. "Damn hormones," he muttered, blinking rapidly.

We ate in comfortable silence for a while, the forest quiet around us except for birdsong and the occasional rustle of leaves. Danny seemed more relaxed than I'd seen him in days, some of the tension easing from his shoulders as he leaned back against the cushions.

"I've been thinking," I said finally, setting down my glass.

"Dangerous," Danny quipped automatically.

I smiled. "About us. Our future."

His expression grew serious. "What about it?"

"I want you to know that whatever you decide about your mom, about how much to tell her—I support you." I took his hand, threading our fingers.

“I’m proud of you, and I want her to know. I just don’t want it to be spoiled with Shane,” he whispered.

I looked at him, seeing the love in his eyes, and felt my chest tighten with emotion.

You're proud of me?" I asked, needing to hear it again.

"Incredibly," he said without hesitation. "After everything you’ve gone through, you're still fighting to protect the people you love." I felt tears prick my eyes again.

"I love you," I whispered, the words feeling inadequate for the enormity of what I felt.

"I love you too," he replied, leaning down to kiss me softly. "More than I thought possible."

We finished eating as the sun began to sink lower in the sky, painting everything gold. I lit the lanterns strung in the tree branches, creating a magical circle of soft light around our little sanctuary.

"There's something else," I said, my voice suddenly nervous.

He raised an eyebrow. "More surprises?"

I reached into the basket and pulled out a small, wrapped package. My heart did a little flip as I held it out to him. "It's not much," I said quickly. "But I wanted you to have something to remember this."

With trembling fingers, he unwrapped the simple brown paper to reveal a small wooden box. Inside, nestled in soft velvet, was a pendant on a delicate chain—three tiny bear cubs nestled together.

"Bayer," he breathed, lifting it carefully from the box. "It's beautiful."

"I carved it," I admitted, feeling heat creep up my cheeks.

Danny turned the pendant over in his palm, marveling at the intricate details. Each tiny cub was simple. "It's our family." I took the necklace and fastened it around his neck. "I wanted you to have something to carry with you. Whenever things get difficult—I wanted you to remember that you're not alone."

"Thank you," Danny whispered, twisting to face me. "For all of this. For being patient with me when I'm impossible."

"You're not impossible," I said firmly. "You're pregnant, stressed, and dealing with more change than anyone should have to handle at once. If anything, I should be more patient."

We were there for hours because neither of us wanted to leave. So long that it was dark when I eventually drove us back home.As we pulled up to the packhouse, I immediately noticed something was wrong. Every light was blazing, and I could see figures moving frantically through the windows. Phoenix's truck was parked at an odd angle, like he'd arrived in a hurry and hadn't bothered to straighten it.

"What's going on?" Danny asked, his voice tight with sudden anxiety.I parked quickly and helped him out of the truck, my bear already on high alert. The scent of fear and panic hit me as soon as we stepped onto the porch—sharp, acrid, and wrong.

The front door flew open before we could knock. Emery appeared, his face pale and streaked with tears. "You're back, we were just going to call you," he gasped, pulling us inside.

The living room was chaos. Phoenix stood by the window, phone pressed to his ear, his voice low and urgent. Rhys paced near the fireplace, his silver eyes blazing with barely contained fury. Kaylan sat on the couch, head in his hands. Simeon was there, looking grim."What happened?" I demanded, my voice coming out rougher than intended.

"It's Ben," Emery choked out, and my blood turned to ice. "He's gone."