After four days of patrolling and one day of parenting, Ian got a couple of days off—a Wednesday and a Thursday this week. Usually, he spent the first twenty hours comatose. It wasn't the four twelve-hour shifts surveying their land, as much as the full day with the kids. They were fucking exhausting. 

Shifters generally homeschooled their children; they were too strong, too rough, and not in full control of their abilities yet. Mixing them with regulars was a recipe for disaster. Even if he'd been old enough, that was twice as true for Zack, given the fact that he was a turner—a rarity among their kind. If a turner bit a non-shifter, there was a high chance that that person would turn into one of them. With Zack, it had only happened once, to Clari, their beta female, and thankfully, she'd been cool about it. But if the news broke out that shifters could change regular humans, there would be an uproar; hence the reason why turner kids had been killed for generations. 

Yeah, like the Wyverns were about to allow that. They'd gone to war to protect the alpha's son. A very short war that they would have lost had they not literally received divine intervention. 

Ian loved every single one of the kids. They'd adopted them on a one-on-one basis, so, on paper, Daniel and Clive were his, but it didn't matter to him; they were all children of the pride, from Niamh, the sassy teenager, to little Lola, the adorable hybrid. His animal was slightly more protective of the two children he'd claimed, but he wouldn't have hesitated jumping in front of a bus to push any of them out of the way. 

Adoring the shit out of them didn't change the fact that they drove him positively mad. Right now, Niamh was behaving, because the alphas had promised the little witch that if she could be good for a while, they'd let her attend high school on a trial basis. Of course, that meant that all of the other kids were trying to drive her crazy: pulling her ponytail, hiding her makeup, and whatnot. The previous evening, Clive had "accidentally" bumped into her thirty-nine times during their sparring. 

Ian wondered if Rye had put the kids up to it; told them to push Niamh's buttons to see if she'd crack under pressure. Sounded like something the alpha would do. Hell, sounded like something Ian would do. But Niamh really, really wanted to go to high school, apparently. 

Still, it had been a long fucking day. While the witch had managed to stop herself from zapping her siblings' asses, she had yelled, and kicked, and insulted them all day—not without cause. Having to arbitrate over the kids was so fucking draining. 

Then there was Hsu, who'd grown somber and more withdrawn than ever recently. The little seer was worried, and that wasn't good. She tried to hide it, but her humor was bleeding over to the entire pride. 

His shift was over at nine, after everyone except Niamh had gone to bed. He passed out the moment his head hit the pillow. 

Normally, he wasn't anywhere to be seen before twelve on his day off from pack duty. He slept like a log and then he stayed at his place to work on his business for a while. 

Ian prioritized the pride in all things, but his mind was rarely challenged in his enforcer duty, so he'd started to invest his salary a few years ago. The pride had started with a limited amount of funding, just a check Rye's grandmother had given them, but within a few months, they'd had various streams of income—ad money from a fan website that regulars visited to drool over them, swag like calendars and mugs with their faces on it, amongst others. They all found it embarrassing as fuck—especially Jas, their most popular icon. But it had paid their bills and brought in enough money for all of them to get a modest salary on top of that. Some regular humans found sups fascinating; being a pride of young, then-single shifters, they'd been popular. 

Ian invested his salary for fun, and with a few lucky breaks, like bidding on the right tech start-up in the early days, he saw his cash grow exponentially in a matter of weeks. When the rest of the pride saw his success, they asked him to manage their savings, too; he refused at first, feeling inadequate for a task he hadn't truly been trained for, but reluctantly, when he understood the market a little better, he gave in. Now, nine years later, he'd made himself a considerable nest egg. The pride would never have to worry about money. 

As his venture had grown too fast, he ended up hiring teams to supervise his money in New York City. They referred to him for the big decisions, but by now it was a well-oiled machine that didn't truly need his input. 

Normally, he spent a couple of hours overseeing the latest development on his first day off.

Then, emerging around noon, he read, watched a show, or just hung out with whoever wasn't working. In the evenings, he left for one of the nearby cities. As a rule, Ian didn't mess around with pride members or local girls, but a guy had to get some somewhere.

Ace, Ari, and Rye were in the dining room eating breakfast with the kids when he turned up at the crack of dawn. Well, not quite, but early enough to freak them out.

"Did your bed catch fire?" Ari asked.

He rolled his eyes, diving for the beignets on the table. "Man, these look fresh. You're a goddess, Ace."

He rarely got to eat her breakfast stuff, given his schedule.

The alpha female winked, passing him a pot of freshly brewed coffee. "Flattery will always get you an extra portion. Seriously though, why are you up? Nightmares?"

"I so do not get up because of nightmares," he replied with a laugh. "You're spending too much time with the kids."

She shrugged. "Some nightmares are worth getting up for. Rye's barely slept since Tria's last visit."

A heavy silence fell on their side of the table, although the kids didn't seem bothered.

Oh. Well, that made sense.

Months ago now, Demetria Winters, the...thing that had saved their skins after Zack turned Clari, came with an ominous warning. Her attention had mostly been on Niamh, but she'd spared a second to speak to them about the attack in Boston. According to her, it had come from creatures like her, the scions.

“The PIA has fallen, Knox is going to be MIA. Honestly, you shouldn’t be on their radar, but if they come to you and demand your allegiance? Kneel. Don’t even question it. Kneel and live to fight tomorrow,” she'd told them.

“That’s not in our nature,” Rye had replied. 

Tria's eyes were full of indifference.

“Then die.”

How long had it been now? A year maybe. The world hadn't changed much on the surface, but anyone paying attention could noticed alarming things. Such as packs, prides, clans, and covens disappearing overnight. Friends going silent, family going on illogical trips, tight-lipped about the details. Someone was pulling strings, manipulating shifters and other sups out there. The victims were smaller, more vulnerable groups. The Wyvern might not be a large pride, but they were powerful, with a mated pair for alphas, several renowned fighters, and links to some of the most powerful feline shifters in the land. Besides, they also had Ava Flavia Dale, who came with the support of every eagle shifter around the globe.

But whoever was moving the pawns, they'd eventually get powerful enough to take them on if things carried on that way. Then what?

Rye was right, kneeling wasn't in their nature. They'd fight. And they would lose. Ian had seen scions in action, he'd researched them thoroughly since meeting Tria and her cousins.

"Any news from her?" Ian asked.

Ace shook her head. "No news is good news, right?"

Not really, this time. If Tria had fallen, then they'd lost all protection. Ian doubted her stunning blond cousins would spare them a thought. Tria cared because she liked Niamh. That was their one link.

He cleared his throat. "Well, nothing we can do about that now. Anyway, I'm taking Cutie to the vet, do you need anything while I'm out?"

Ace's eyes widened and Rye choked on a piece of toast. "You're taking Cutie? For his morning appointment?"

Ian shrugged. "Someone’s gotta do it."