Wanda’s pups— twins, mirroring her and Pietro —were more breathtaking than anything you had ever seen. As a fellow omega, the sharp tug of maternal instinct in your chest was almost overwhelming, a protectiveness settling deep in your bones even though the children weren't your own.

Yet, even in the warm, sacred intimacy of the birthing room, you couldn't shake the heavy weight of Erik’s gaze. “They’re beautiful, Wanda.” You murmured, a soft, involuntary purr rumbling in your throat as you gently nudged the side of her newborn son's head.

The infant cooed in response, instinctively nestling deeper into the crook of your arm. The estate smelled like home. Every defensive instinct you had spent half a decade building began to melt away, soothed by the familiar, comforting scents of your old pack.

Wanda smiled weakly, squeezing your arm with a gentle, grounding pressure. “I’m just happy you came. It’s been so long.” The underlying tinge of sadness bleeding into her scent made your chest tighten with guilt.

Before you could answer, the sharp shift in the room's dynamic distracted you— Erik had quietly turned and walked out the door. A part of you wanted to go after him, but the more vulnerable instinct wanted nothing more than to stay inside, surrounded by the safety of Wanda’s nest and the sweet fragrance of the pups.

Carefully setting the baby back into Wanda’s waiting arms, you offered her a small, reassuring smile despite the sudden clamminess of your hands. You took a quiet breath and stepped outside into the cool air.

Even from a distance, the bitter, sharp tang of his scent laced the air, heavy with unspoken anger. He was a traditional alpha to his core, conservative in his beliefs regarding secondary hierarchies— an ideology he held almost as sacred as his crusade for mutant supremacy.

Five years ago, you walked away from the pack, and now you were back like nothing happened. You couldn't blame him for resenting you.