Third Person P.O.V.
The storm of confessions and tears had settled into a fragile, aching quiet. Mason sat with Bella still in his arms, their breathing slowly finding rhythm together. His mind, though, was anything but calm.
The bond hummed, steady and warm. Alastair purred inside him, finally content that they had taken a step toward healing. But there was something else pressing at Mason’s chest, urgent and unrelenting—the memory of three small voices calling out Daddy.
He swallowed hard, pulling back slightly to look at Bella. Her eyes were still rimmed with red, but there was gentleness in them, patience, as if she knew what he was about to ask before he even parted his lips.
“Bella,” Mason said, his voice careful, almost tentative. “I… I need to know about them. The boys.”
Her b
