Chapter 110

**ARIA**

The light slipping through the curtains was warm, soft—like silk brushing over my skin. I stirred under the sheets, letting the weight of the blanket hold me in a few moments longer before stretching my limbs carefully. I wasn’t sore. I wasn’t drained. In fact, I felt… good. Really good.

I blinked up at the ceiling, then slowly sat up. My body felt different, but not in the overwhelming, everything-has-changed way I had braced myself for. The change had already happened. I was no longer just a werewolf. I was something more now—hybrid. My senses weren’t screaming with new input, but they felt heightened, sharper. I could hear birds chirping from far beyond the balcony. I could smell cinnamon. And eggs.

And I was starving.

Slipping out of bed, I grabbed the soft robe draped over the edge of the chair and tied it loosely around my waist. The apartment was quiet except for the gentle hum of life coming from the kitchen.

I padded barefoot across the wood floor, the scent growing stronger with every step.

There he was—Adam. Shirtless, as usual when cooking, a pair of grey sweatpants slung low on his hips. He stood at the stove, focused, a spatula in hand as he scrambled eggs with practiced ease. His dark hair was still tousled from sleep. I watched the muscles in his back move as he stirred, the curve of his shoulders catching the morning light.

In one second, I was behind him. I didn’t even remember crossing the room. I was just suddenly there, arms wrapped around him, pressing my cheek to his back.

He smiled as he leaned into me slightly. “Good morning,” he said, voice low and still a bit rough. “How’d you sleep?”

“Like a baby,” I murmured against his skin. “Best sleep of my life.”

“Glad to hear it,” he replied, reaching back to squeeze my hip affectionately.

“Where’s Austin?” I asked, lifting my head to look around.

As if summoned by name, the bathroom door opened. Austin stepped out, rubbing his temples with one hand and leaning against the doorframe with the other.

He was pale—too pale—and his eyes were shadowed.

“I feel like shit,” he mumbled, voice barely audible.

My concern kicked in instantly. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer, just shuffled toward the sofa and dropped onto it with a groan, tossing his arm over his face like the light hurt.

Adam turned the stove off and set the pan aside. “I think it’s his body adjusting. I remember Sasha going through something similar after his transition. It’ll pass.”

Austin groaned in confirmation from the couch.

I frowned, moving toward him and sitting on the edge of the coffee table so I could see his face. “You’re sure?”

“I’ll be fine,” Austin muttered. “Just feels like I got hit by a train, then dragged through a bonfire, and left in a freezer overnight.”

I gave him a small smile. “That’s quite the visual.”

“I’m nothing if not poetic,” he said weakly.

Despite everything, breakfast happened. I perched beside Austin while Adam brought over plates piled high with food. I ate like I hadn’t seen food in days, which, in fairness, was not far off considering how ravenous my body had become with the pregnancy.

Austin tried. He really did. But after a few bites, he groaned, stood abruptly, and rushed into the bathroom. The sound of him retching made me wince.

I followed him without thinking, hovering in the doorway. “Austin?”

He leaned over the sink, breathing heavily, eyes glassy. “I’m okay,” he rasped, waving a hand.

“No, you’re not.”

He rinsed his mouth and straightened slowly. “I just need to lie down again.”

I guided him back to the couch, grabbing a cool washcloth and pressing it to his forehead. He closed his eyes and let out a shaky sigh.

“You’re my nurse now?” he asked, a ghost of a grin on his lips.

“For now.”

“I know a way to make me feel better,” he said, peeking one eye open with a teasing glint.

I chuckled and smacked his shoulder lightly. “Nice try.”

He groaned again and closed his eyes. “Worth it.”

Once he seemed settled, I put on a movie. Something light, something nostalgic. I curled up on the armchair across from him, blanket pulled over my legs.

For once, I didn’t fall asleep halfway through. But Austin did.

His breathing deepened, face finally relaxing as the hybrid transformation did its slow work. I watched him for a while, letting the quiet fill the room. It wasn’t silence—it was comfort. A stillness that wrapped around us and made everything else seem far away.

My gaze wandered to the window. The sun was high now, casting golden streaks across the floor. I pressed a hand gently to my belly.

Two little lives.

A human mother. A hybrid father. A werewolf father.

And somehow, we’d become a family.

The thought made my chest tighten—not in fear, but in awe. I didn’t know what the future held. I didn’t know how our children would grow, what challenges would come next, or whether we’d ever truly be safe.

But right now, I felt strong. Not just physically, though there was a new energy humming under my skin.

I felt loved.

And for the first time in a long time, I believed—deep down—that everything was going to be okay.