Moira's POV

The pack gathering buzzes with conversation and laughter, warm golden light from the packhouse windows spilling onto the back patio where everyone's mingling. I stand near the drinks table, my hand resting on my still-flat stomach, watching Logan work the crowd with that easy Alpha authority he wears like a second skin.

'Three babies,' I think for the hundredth time today, the ultrasound images burned into my memory.

Logan moves ...