“Youseriouslycouldn’t wait for us to get home to eat?” Tadeo asks, eyes narrowing.
Alex lifts his sandwich like a guilty trophy. “It’s asnack.”
“We were only gone for twenty minutes.” He sets the box on the counter, pushing a few discarded cups out of the way.
“I didn’t know you were bringing cake,” Alex says with mock innocence. “If I’d known, I would’ve waited.”
“It’s not cake,it’s a traditional?—”
“—Spanish sponge miracle, I know,” Alex interrupts. “I didn't mean to upset you, but I promise. I’m still very hungry,” he growls the last few words, eyeing Tadeo like he’s the meal.
Tadeo’s brow lifts as he watches Alex slowly stand, “It wouldn’t have killed you to wait,” he says, but all his anger is gone, replaced by a heated look as Alex stalks toward him.
The red-haired alpha crosses the kitchen in three slow steps, sandwich abandoned, mischief in every movement. He walks right into Tadeo’s space, crowding him against the counter with that stupid, cocky smirk that always gets him exactly what he wants.
“You know I can’t resist it when you talk about food with that sexy Spanish accent,” he murmurs, brushing the tip of his nose against Tadeo’s.
Dakota groans dramatically and plops into a kitchen chair. “Can wenotmake out over the pastries?”
Alex ignores him. Of course.
“You had better not let all that food go to waste.” Tadeo eyes the last of Alex’s sandwich.
“Yes, sir,” Alex stands a little taller, giving the younger alpha a wink.
Tadeo sighs like he wants to be mad, but his mouth twitches. Then he reaches out and catches Alex’s face in his hands and kisses him once, slow but sure, before pulling away.
“You’re an idiot.”
“I’myouridiot.”
“Unfortunately.”
I clap my hands once. “Okay, enough foreplay. Let’s eat the damn cake.”
“Magdalena,” Tadeo and Dakota say in unison.
“Yeah, yeah.” I grab a plate off the drying rack. “Just gimme a piece with the most sugar on top.”
Tadeo opens the bakery box with the reverence of a priest. Inside, soft golden domes wait in neat rows, their tops dusted with sparkling sugar, still warm. The scent of lemon and vanilla fills the kitchen, cutting through the chaos and socks and laundry and burnt coffee like a holy damn miracle.
Alex grabs one and takes a bite, groaning loudly. “Okay. Fine. You win. I’d wait aweekfor this.”
“You’re welcome,” Tadeo mutters, rolling his eyes—but he’s smiling now, just a little.
I sink my teeth into one of the warm cakes, and it melts like sunlight on my tongue. Soft, airy, a hint of citrus—it tastes like mornings should. Like something good is coming.
For a second, we all eat in silence, the four of us cramped around our little kitchen table. Crumbs falling, mouths full, coffee mugs clinking. I love my pack. Loud, messy, a little dysfunctional—but strong. Solid.
“Knox?” Dakota sets down the last bite, leaning away from his plate.
I hum in response, downing the last of my coffee. “What’s up?”
But he hesitates. That’s the first sign something’s off.
Dakota doesn’t hesitate. He barrels through life like it’s a gym circuit—fast, sweaty, and loud. But right now, his hand hovers near his hoodie pocket, and he won’t look any of us in the eye.
Alex notices too. His smile fades as he sets his half-eaten pastry on a napkin. “Dakota?” he says gently. “You okay?”
