Page 27 of Bad Wolf's Nanny

The baby stirred, let out a small protesting noise, then settled again as she passed him, carefully, to Dane.

He held the boy with practiced caution, like he might disintegrate if handled too roughly.

Lola, somehow steadier now, took the bag from Felix and marched into the kitchen like she lived there. She needed a task. Something that wasn’t eye contact, or awkward silence, or Rick looking at her like he was studying a rare species of bird.

She filled the kettle. Unpacked the formula. Read the back of the tin twice before pouring the right amount into a bottle and shaking it so hard she nearly dropped the damn thing.

Behind her, she could hear the men talking in low voices.

“She just left him?” That was Rick.

“Didn’t even name him,” Dane replied.

“You sure he’s yours?”

“No. But she was human. This kid’s not. His scent’s already shifting.”

A pause.

“So what now?” Felix asked.

“I can’t be here full-time. You know what it’s like. Patrols, border runs. Sometimes I’m gone for days. He can’t be passed around like a problem.”

“You could get a nanny,” Nicolas said lightly.

Lola froze, fingers tightening on the bottle.

A nanny.

Of course.

That made sense.

Except…

Except this baby didn’t need a stranger. Not right now. Not when he’d just lost everything before he even had a name.

And before she knew what she was doing, she turned around and said, loudly, awkwardly, catastrophically—

“I’ll do it.”

The silence that followed her words was immediate and deafening.

Lola wished the ground would open and swallow her whole. The baby’s bottle was still warm in her hand, trembling slightly as she stood there, frozen between the kitchen and the small circle of shifters watching her like she’d just declared herself Queen of Silvermist.

She cleared her throat, cheeks flaming. “I…I mean, just for now. Until something more…appropriate can be arranged. I’m obviously not…qualified, or anything, and I’ve never changed a… Well, I havereadabout infant care, and I’m very good at following instructions, and—”

“Lola,” Dane said, voice low. “You don’t have to do this.”

“IknowI don’t,” she snapped, harsher than she meant, “I’m…offering.”

The baby gave a soft, hiccupping whine from the crook of Dane’s arm, and she faltered again. Her voice dropped, “He needs someone. He doesn’t have anyone. And finding the right person could take days or weeks, and in the meantime…what? He gets passed around between patrols and pack meetings like some sort of package?”

No one argued.

Not even Rick.

She turned her attention to the baby, holding out the bottle with careful fingers. “May I?”