The Alpha King's Secret Triplets

Chapter 1

Golden ginkgo leaves coated the damp sidewalk outside the kindergarten, sticking to the soles of my worn-out sneakers. The crisp autumn air usually calmed me, but today, it tasted like ash and anxiety.

Seven minutes late.

Wrangling three five-year-olds who possessed the boundless, terrifying energy of Alpha pups was a battle I lost every single day. I was constantly running on fumes, surviving on cheap coffee and the sheer terror of what would happen if anyone ever found out what my sons truly were.

The head teacher spotted me from afar and hurried over. The polite, customer-service smile she usually wore was completely gone, replaced by a tight-lipped grimace that instantly set my nerves on edge.

"Ms. Green," she started, her voice clipped. "Luca bit someone. Again."

She leaned in closer, lowering her voice as if sharing a deadly secret. "And... the other parent is inside. He refused to leave until he spoke to you personally. I have to warn you, he's incredibly... intimidating."

My heart slammed violently against my ribs. My palms grew clammy.

I wiped my hands on my jeans, took a steadying breath, and pushed the brightly colored classroom door open.

Inside, the tiny, brightly painted chairs were arranged in a neat semicircle around a large reading rug.

Dead center sat a man whose sheer, overwhelming size swallowed the miniature furniture whole. His broad, muscular shoulders completely dwarfed the flimsy plastic backrest, and his ridiculously long, powerful legs were folded awkwardly beneath a low craft table. He looked like a dark, lethal storm cloud trapped inside a dollhouse.

His expensive, tailored suit jacket was draped carelessly over a nearby cubby, leaving his thick forearms exposed.

And right there, on the inside of his left arm, was a tattoo that made the blood freeze in my veins. A howling wolf silhouetted against a crescent moon.

The royal crest of the Silver Moon Pack.

Ice crawled up my spine, paralyzing me. The scent hit me a second later—crisp pine, freezing rain, and pure, unfiltered Alpha dominance. It was a scent that commanded submission.

My youngest son, Luca, was happily straddling this terrifying man's broad shoulders, his little hands unapologetically tugging at the man's thick, dark hair.

"Mommy!" Luca yelled, his face beaming with the kind of pure, innocent joy that shattered my soul in that moment. "This man smells just like us! He really does!"

My blood ran ice cold. The world tilted on its axis.

The man slowly lifted his head.

Ice-blue eyes. Cold, calculating, and piercing enough to strip away every lie I had ever told.

A jawline sharp enough to cut glass, currently ticking with barely suppressed tension.

Lips pressed into a hard, unforgiving line.

Damian Blackwood.

Alpha of the Silver Moon Pack. The most feared wolf in the Northern Territories.

And the only other person in that dark, suffocating basement hallway five years ago.

"Are you the boy's mother?"

His voice was a low, rumbling baritone that vibrated right through the floorboards and settled deep in my bones. It carried that natural, unquestionable authority. The Alpha command.

It was exactly as I remembered it.

My knees threatened to buckle, and my inner wolf—sealed away deep inside me for decades—let out a muffled, frantic whimper against her magical cage. I forced my expression to shutter, burying the panic behind a mask of polite, human confusion.

"Yes. I'm Luca's mother. I'm incredibly sorry he bit your—"

"Not my child," Damian cut in, his tone sharp and dismissive. "My Beta's daughter. Your son bit her arm. Left actual teeth marks."

He stood up. The sheer mass of him unfolding to his full six-foot-four height made the entire classroom feel instantly suffocating. He reached up and plucked Luca off his shoulders with one hand, his movements startlingly steady and effortlessly strong.

Luca squirmed, refusing to submit, and craned his neck toward me. "Mommy, he really does smell like us. Like the woods after it rains!"

"Luca, quiet."

My voice came out too tight, too breathless. It lacked my usual motherly warmth.

Don't panic. Don't let him see the fear. If he senses fear, the wolf in him will hunt.

Damian's eyes narrowed dangerously. It was the pure instinct of an apex predator spotting a fatal weakness in its prey. He stepped closer, bringing that overwhelming scent of pine and rain right into my personal space.

"What's your name?" he demanded softly. The softness only made it more terrifying.

"Lyla Green."

A fake name. I'd practiced it for five years. I’d signed it on countless rental agreements and fake medical records. It slid off my tongue flawlessly, without a single tremor.

He tilted his head slightly, his icy gaze sliding past my face to rest heavily on the side of my neck. Where the mating gland was.

There was nothing there.

No mark. No claiming bite. No sign of belonging to any pack, or any Alpha.

"Lyla Green." He chewed on the syllables like they were gristle, tasting the lie on his tongue. "Which pack are you from?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I lied smoothly. "I'm human."

Another lie. The easiest one to tell, considering I had absolutely no scent to give me away thanks to the black-market suppressants running through my bloodstream.

Luca wriggled aggressively in Damian's grip, letting out a soft, childish growl. Damian glanced down at him, surprised by the sheer ferocity coming from a five-year-old. Those ice-blue eyes lingered on the boy's face for two long seconds, flicked up to mine, and then returned to Luca.

He was comparing us. Assessing the curve of the jaw, the shape of the brow. Searching for something.

Footsteps echoed sharply down the tiled hallway outside the classroom.

Another teacher appeared in the doorway, looking frantic as she led Noah and Ethan by the hands.

Three identical faces turned to look at the massive Alpha in the room.

Jet-black hair. Storm-gray eyes. Features that were already sharpening into undeniable arrogance.

Damian's breath audibly hitched. The absolute shock rippled across his stoic features for a fraction of a second before he locked it down.

"Triplets?"

"Yes."

Before he could say another word, before he could demand a paternity test on the spot, I lunged forward. I snatched Luca from his grip with far more strength than a human mother should possess, grabbed Noah and Ethan by their collars, and walked out without looking back.

"Let's go. Now."

The heavy, burning weight of his stare bored into my spine, a brand I couldn't shake no matter how fast I walked.

I practically dragged the boys to the rusted sedan, threw open the car door, and shoved them into the backseat. My hands shook so badly I missed the buckle twice, swearing under my breath as I jammed the metal into place.

I slammed my door shut, locked it, and glanced in the rearview mirror.

Damian was standing perfectly still at the kindergarten's wrought-iron gates.

He had a sleek black phone pressed to his ear.

His lips were moving rapidly, barking out orders. He was already hunting me.