~Damin~
A Year And Half Later.
The sun was not even up yet, and already I could feel it in my bones that my house had turned into a war zone. You learn to recognize the signs when you live with four pups and a wife who could talk a saint into committing murder.
It started with Lyra’s voice carrying down the hallway, that sweet, fake-patient tone she only used when she was about five seconds away from snapping someone’s neck.
Then came the sound of a baby’s screech, sharp enough to make me wince and powerful enough that the entire pack probably heard it echo through the damn walls.
I pushed open the nursery door and was greeted by pure chaos. Not a little chaos. Not the kind you can laugh off. I mean full-scale destruction, tiny bodies in rebellion, toys on the floor like landmines,
