Chapter 4
Samantha’s POV
*6 years later*
"Devon, remember what I told you about picking fights," I reminded my son firmly as I knelt in front of him because I knew how much of a troublemaker he was. His dark eyes were so much like mine but held a mischievous glint as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Beside him was his twin—Diana, trying to fasten the straps on her tiny backpack with her tongue poking out in concentration. She looked up at me, her eyes wide and full of innocent excitement as she spoke.
"Mommy, we will be good!" Diana promised, her curls bouncing as she nodded fervently.
"That’s what you said last time," I reminded them, eyeing Devon especially. He had a habit of protecting his sister, even when she did not need it, which had led to a few incidents in the past. "And no running too far in the park. Stay close, and listen to Annie,” I said.
Devon puffed out his chest. "I will protect Diana," he declared, and for a moment, I could not help but smile. He might only be five, but his instincts were strong, too strong for his age. It was something I tried not to dwell on.
I sighed, running a hand through Devon’s unruly hair. "I know you will, but listen to Annie, okay?" My gaze softened as I turned to their human nanny, Annie, who was watching our interaction with a patient smile. Her presence was helpful in taking care of the kids, even if it made me nervous that she was not a werewolf. She had proven herself reliable time and time again, and the twins adored her.
"Don’t worry, Samantha," Annie said, adjusting Diana’s backpack straps. "We will have a great time, won’t we?"
Diana clapped her hands, her face lighting up. "Yes! We will be perfect little angels!" Her words made Annie chuckle, and I tried to ease the tension knotted in my chest. Diana’s enthusiasm had a way of brightening even the worrying moments. But I could not shake the uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. They were still so young, but I knew well enough that age did not always matter when it came to getting their own wolves and shifting. I could only hope that whatever instincts they had—whatever potential they had not yet tapped into—would stay dormant, at least for a little longer.
"Okay," I exhaled, more to myself than anyone else. "Annie has my number if there is any trouble. And you two," I added, my voice stern but loving to my twins, "behave."