The Principal's "STRAIGHT" Mate (Manxboy)

Epilogue

{Their gorgeous children}

Zack's pov:

10 years later

"DADDY!" an angry, little voice shrilled.

I sighed and kissed the sleeping Alex's forehead before slowly getting out of bed. I walked across the hall to Sophie's room.

Upon entering, I saw a stomping, angry Sophie and a giggling Timothy. Sophie looked like she was about to cry as he teasingly stretched his arm as high as he could go preventing her from reaching her favorite stuffed wolf.

I almost smiled at the memory of Alex winning her that wolf at the carnival. Her little face lit up and she let out a cute squeal of excitement when he handed to her. However, Timothy cry of pain brought me back to reality.

Timothy laid on the ground crying and holding his knee as Sophie stood over him triumphly. I sighed again before picking up Timothy. He wrapped his little arms around my neck and sobbed into my chest. I soothed him until his sobs turned into hiccups.

"Now, Sophie apolgize to Timothy for kicking him." I said calmly.

"Twice!" Timothy squeaked.

She pouted and looked down at her piggy slippers. I waited a few minutes before sending her a warning.

"Fine! I sorry Timrofhy." she mumbled.

"Timothy you need to apologise to Sophie for stealing her wolf, and I better not see you steal your sister's stuff again."

"Yes, Daddy. I'm sorry, Sophie." he whispered sadly.

I set him down and gave them both a peck on the cheek before sending them downstairs to the kitchen for breakfast.

Now, you're probably wondering where my little devils came from. When I was twenty three and Alex was twenty eight, we decided to adopt a werewolf orphan.

As soon as we laid eyes on Timothy, we knew he was the one for us. He even has Alpha blood in him so he'll be the next alpha. Timothy is now seven years old.

Next, came Sophie. Timothy was five when we brought two year old Sophie home. Now at four years old, the little thing is as sassy and sneaking as ever.

I smiled as I heard little cooing noises come from the room at the end of the hall. I walked in and my heart stopped at the sight of a giggling Adrian in my husband's arms while he sang and tickled him.

Adrian is the newest edition to the family. He's eight months old and we adopted him last month. Unfortunately, Adrian is legally deaf, which means he can hear but by law he is considered deaf. This also affects his speech, but he can still make noises such as giggles, cries, squeals, etc. He just sound a little different than other babies.

The doctor says there is a chance that when he's older and with the help of a hearing aid, he'll be able to have perfect speech. Just in case though, Alex, the kids, and I are learning sign language.

"Good morning baby." I whispered as I wrapped my arms around his waist. I cuddled my face into his back and took in his forest scent.

"Good morning to you too, little one." he whispered back.

Adrian squeaked at me and waved his arms around. I chuckled and took my baby boy from Alex. I chuckled once again as his chubby hands grabbed my face and squished my cheeks. That's his thing he always does with me.

"You stay up here for a bit and relax while I make the kids breakfast." Alex said before pecking me on my perked up lips and walked out the door.

I kissed Adrian's chubby cheek and sat down in a nearby rocking chair. Adrian then decided it was a great idea to roughly grabbed and tug my poor curls. I groaned in pain as I pryed his fingers out of my hair and rubbed the sore spot. So much for relaxing.