The door opened, and Roger and Sinclair entered.

"No!" Cora called, flinging a pillow at Roger. "Not you! You're the source of my misery!" Roger grinned, catching the pillow. "And how is my gorgeous mate, mother of my child and heir?" he murmured, enveloping her in a hug.

"Villain," she growled, pulling him closer, her pretended anger betrayed by a smile. "You're going to pay for this!" Roger snarled, showering her face with kisses that elicited shrieks and laughter.

I grinned as Sinclair approached, leaning down to look at Rafe and me.

Rafe squealed with delight, reaching for his father. Sinclair beamed, lifting and swinging his baby, who erupted in joyous laughter.

Happiness surged through me as I watched them, then turned to Cora and Roger, now smiling contentedly as Roger held Rafe close to Cora on the bed, inquiring about her well-being. Cora laughingly recounted her physical complaints, while Roger listened attentively, offering murmured reassurances.

"So," I said, sitting up and tucking my legs beneath me, beaming at my mate and his tiny mirror image, "any news from the war front?"

"Some good things," Sinclair replied, sitting on the bed to face Cora and Roger, pulling me close. "We're making good progress with some of our more ambitious plans."

"Like what?" Cora asked as Sinclair settled Rafe so he could crawl. Roger, seemingly without conscious effort, mirrored Sinclair's action, preventing Rafe from rolling off the bed. I grinned, pleased by their burgeoning fatherhood.

"We officially got the vote to fund and start the Alpha Academy," Roger announced, grinning at Cora.

"Oh?" Cora said, her eyebrows rising. "Wow, that's incredible" Sinclair eyed her skepticism. "What? You don't like the idea?"

"Well, I'm about to become a mother," she said, stroking her stomach. "But it does give me anxiety to think of an academy training young men for the front lines."

"The military takes men as young as eighteen," Roger replied carefully. "The Alpha Academy recruits at twenty, with many recruits as old as twenty-five."

"Plus," Sinclair added softly, "wolves reach majority at sixteen." My gaze snapped to Rafe; his rapid growth was striking. Less than fifteen years until he reached adulthood in wolf culture. The thought unsettled me.

"I get it," Cora said, looking down at her belly. "I just I hate the idea of Rafe and the baby growing up in a world where they're trained to risk their lives."

"It will be their choice," Sinclair said quietly. "No one would force them."

"Yeah," Cora said, her eyes hardening. "But in this family, with all these big, tough Alphas, growing up in a nation at war? I doubt they'll choose poetry."

"You never know," Roger said, resting his head against hers. "They may surprise us."

"We won't train boys to sacrifice themselves, Cora," Sinclair said, his voice heavy with responsibility. "We'll teach them to fight and survive." Cora nodded, though still displeased.

"What about girls?" I asked, frowning.

"What?" Sinclair asked, turning to me.

"Girls," I repeated. "Can girls attend the Academy?" Their hesitation was telling.

"That's so sexist!" I protested.

"Seriously, Ella?" Roger asked, his eyes full of doubt. "If you had a beautiful little girl, would you send her to a military academy?" I hesitated. My instincts would be to keep her close.

But then I looked at Rafe. Why should his safety standards differ from a girl's?

"Female wolves have different physical strengths, Ella," Sinclair said cautiously.

"That's crap," I retorted, rolling my eyes. "My wolf is bigger and stronger than many men's wolves."

"No one's doubting you," he began.

"But you're saying girls can't go because our wolves are weaker?" Sinclair's brow furrowed. "I can concede that point, Ella," he said, his voice hard, "and still insist the Academy only accepts male cadets, at least for now. You're fighting hundreds of years of tradition, and wartime isn't the time to challenge that. No girls." I scowled but conceded.

"Okay," Cora murmured, rising. "This incredibly tense conversation is over. I want to go home."

"I'm sorry," I said, my face falling. "I shouldn't have started a fight. Stay for dinner."

"No," she said as Roger stood. Cora took his hand. "It's not your fault, Ells—I'm just tired, sore, grumpy, and hungry."

"The list goes on," Roger said, smiling.

"Yes," she said, looking up at him. "And you'll hear all about it."

"Good," he replied, kissing her.

I sighed, rising as Sinclair caught Rafe. My mate playfully scolded our son as I hugged my sister goodbye.

"You'll call if anything happens?" I asked, looking at her stomach.

"You know I will," she said, a small smile fading into a sigh. "But I think I have some time left."

"My phone's on," I said, pointing to it. "You call." Cora agreed, and she and Roger left, Roger supporting her.

When the door closed, my mate stood beside me, Rafe in his arms.

"Are you mad?" he asked, ready to listen.

"No," I replied, brushing his cheek. "It's just difficult. I shouldn't pick fights about future problems. Rafe's training, potential daughters—that's years away."

"I worry too," he murmured, pulling me close.

"You do?" I asked, surprised. I felt guilty; he already had so much to worry about.

"Of course," he said, smiling. He shifted Rafe, his expression turning wicked. "But I can think of ways to take our minds off it, even for a little while."

"Oh, yes, Alpha," I murmured, smirking. "Tell me precisely what you're thinking." He didn't speak, but instead kissed me, showing me what he intended.