Page 41 of Cruel Alpha Daddy

“Go and check on them in half an hour,” I answer. “Then leave them to cool before we make some frosting.”

“We’re almost out of powdered sugar,” a woman named Kay says. “And yeast.”

“Unfortunately, those are things we can’t produce ourselves,” I say thoughtfully. I have enough stock back in my bakery to keep us going for months up here, but it’s not like I can just walk back in there and take it.

How strange that I don’t really miss my life that much. Now that I have Rider, I don’t need my busy routine. The only thing I miss is Caleb.

“Okay, girlie. We’re gonna try this again,” Jen drawls in my ear. We all pull up chairs to sit in a big circle in the sun. There are stacks of wool and thread in baskets in the center.

“I don’t think I’m ever going to get it, Jen,” I say defeatedly.

“Nonsense. Just keep practicing, and you’ll be fine.”

I scowl at the embroidery needle in my hand. The girls have taught me a bit of everything—spinning thread, stitching clothes, and repairing shoes—but I’ve been utterly hopeless at everything so far.

“I can barely even knit,” I moan, getting my stitches tangled already. “Clearly, embroidery is beyond me. Shouldn’t we separate ourselves into teams so that all of us work on what we’re best at?”

“We definitely should,” Jen agrees, smiling. “But everyone needs to learn the basic skill set. Especially you, Luna.”

I groan inwardly, giving Jen a mock frown. She laughs and gives me a friendly shove. Even though I’m starting to take full responsibility as luna, I’m still guided by Jen, who is the oldest woman in the pack.

After a couple of hours, I begin to relax, and my stitches flow more easily. Jen looks over my work with approval, nodding over my shoulder.

“Pretty,” she acknowledges. “Yesterday, you couldn’t even do a line, let alone a swirl.”

“Hmm.” I glare at my strip of green fabric with its loopy silver pattern. “That’s a bit of a worry because I was trying to do a straight line.”

Laughter erupts up and down the circle. I laugh, too. Having all these women close to me makes me realize how isolated I was back in my pack. I only interacted with Lucy and Caleb. My customers, other moms at school, even good friends like Carla—I never let them really get to know me.

It feels good to have a real family.

My heart aches as my mind pulls away from that thought.

It can’t be a home. Not until Caleb is here, and I can’t bring him here until it’s safe.

Maddy calls for help with the baking, and I gratefully put down my needle and hurry inside. We bake several loaves of bread a day now, as well as cakes and biscuits for treats. The men usually come in at midday for a snack, and we set out a big dinner every evening.

Supplies are getting low. We have to do something soon.

Maddy and I hand out pieces of cake and cups of tea, and all the women stop for a break. There are fifteen of us, with twelve children of varied ages between them. Over the last few days, some of the men have come in to learn cooking skills, and more women have come to learn how to do repairs and construction. Jen’s idea to give everyone experience in necessary tasks is a good one. It will keep the pack strong.

“This really is bliss,” Maddy says, taking a sip of tea. She’s sitting in the center of the sewing circle with her young daughter, who is eating cake so enthusiastically, she’s getting most of it all over her face.

“It is,” Kay agrees. “I haven’t felt this good in such a long time.”

“I had a hot bath last night!” Sarah exclaims. “Can you imagine!”

Most of the women laugh. I get the feeling it’s been a long time since there was anything to laugh about.

“Rider is doing a brilliant job,” Lilah says. “Don’t you agree, Jen?”

“I do,” Jen answers. “I was born into this pack. Lived rough for as long as I can remember. My mother was a feral wolf, and she followed old Elton with passion. After she died, Iwas so angry with the world, I stayed savage. Jethro taking over only made me worse. It wasn’t until you girls came and started to have babies that I realized no one should have to grow up the way I did.”

“How old are you, Jen?” I ask.

“Fifty-five this year, I’d say,” she answers. “Can’t be completely sure. Too old for these painful bones to be living rough. If the old alpha or Jethro were in charge… I’d have to do my duty to the pack.”

The other women seem to go completely silent at the same time, looking anywhere else but at Jen and me.

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