The Alpha King's Secret Triplets

Chapter 3

Morning shift. I left the house at six.

I dropped the boys off with Mrs. Beth, the elderly woman next door.

The bakery was on the corner of 7th Street—Sunrise Pastries. The owner was a retired Beta who didn't ask questions, paid in cash, and settled up at the end of every month.

As I kneaded the dough, yesterday's image played on a loop in my head.

Damian standing at the gates, making a call.

He was investigating me.

An Alpha King showing up at a human kindergarten was abnormal to begin with.

The little bell above the door chimed.

7:15 AM. The first customer of the day.

I wiped my hands on my apron and looked up.

Damian stood at the counter.

He wore a black turtleneck that hid most of his tattoos, but there was no hiding his sheer size. At six-foot-four, he made the small doorframe look like the entrance to a dollhouse.

"Black coffee."

His tone was infuriatingly casual, as if he were just a regular guy getting his morning fix.

My hands didn't shake. When I handed him the paper cup, my fingers were terrifyingly steady.

"For here or to go?"

"For here."

He chose a table by the window and sat down, his long legs stretching out into the aisle.

Over the rim of his cup, those ice-blue eyes tracked my every movement.

He wasn't just looking. He was hunting.

I forced my heart rate down. Breathe in. Breathe out.

I went back to kneading the dough. Fighting with flour was easier than fighting the paralyzing dread in my chest.

At eight o'clock sharp, the bell chimed again.

A woman stepped inside.

Red trench coat, black stilettos, honey-brown curls cascading over her shoulders. Her jawline was sharp, her lips curved into a perpetual sneer of superiority.

Victoria Morrison.

Five years hadn't changed her. She was even more stunning, and vastly more dangerous.

She walked straight to Damian's table, leaned down, and rested her manicured fingers on his shoulder, whispering something against his ear.

Damian didn't push her away, nor did he acknowledge her.

Victoria straightened up and turned toward the counter. Her gaze swept over my face, lingering for less than a second.

To her, I was just a human baker. Beneath her notice.

She ordered an oat milk latte. When she handed me her platinum card, her long nails tapped twice against the glass display case.

"A lot of schools around here, aren't there?"

"...Yes."

"Any kindergartens?"

My stomach plummeted into my shoes.

"There's one at the end of the street."

"Hm." She took her cup and took a delicate sip. "Lovely. Damian's taken a sudden interest in this neighborhood. Haven't you, darling?"

Damian didn't reply.

But his eyes flicked from the window, resting heavy and cold on the space between Victoria and me.

Victoria left a few minutes later.

Damian sat for another fifteen minutes until his cup was empty.

He stood up, walked to the counter, and tossed down a twenty-dollar bill.

The coffee was four-fifty.

"Keep the change."

He turned to walk out, then stopped short of the door. Without looking back, his deep voice drifted over his shoulder.

"Ms. Green. You might want to find a new supplier for your scent suppressants."

Under the apron, my hands curled into tight fists. My nails dug so hard into my palms they almost drew blood.

He smelled it.

Not all of it—the suppressants were still holding back the worst of it.

But the dosage was failing.

Three pills. Three days.

In three days, my scent would blow wide open.

And he already knew I wasn't human.

……

3:00 PM. I left work twenty minutes early, the anxiety eating a hole straight through my stomach. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was deeply wrong.

As I turned the corner onto the street where the kindergarten was, my blood ran instantly cold.

A sleek, armored black SUV with out-of-state plates idled ominously in front of the kindergarten gates. The tinted windows were rolled up, but I didn't need to see inside to know who it belonged to.

My steps faltered, my heart kicking against my ribs like a trapped bird.

Inside the courtyard garden, Victoria was crouching down gracefully on the pavement, talking to Noah and Ethan.

A gorgeous, terrifyingly elegant woman in a blood-red trench coat chatting amiably with two cute, dark-haired boys in school uniforms—to any normal human walking by, it looked like a heartwarming spread from a high-end lifestyle magazine.

But I wasn't human, and I knew exactly what she was.

Noah’s small face was pulled incredibly tight, his jaw locked. His tiny body was angled protectively, shielding Ethan behind him. Even at five years old, his Alpha instincts were screaming at him that this woman was a threat.

I broke into a dead sprint. My lungs burned, but I didn't care.

"What the hell are you doing?" I snapped, practically throwing myself between my sons and her. I shoved the boys behind my legs.

Victoria slowly stood up, brushing invisible dust off her perfectly tailored skirt with an air of utter disdain. "Relax, Ms. Green. Don't be so dramatic. I was simply telling them how incredibly handsome they are. They really do have exceptional bone structure."

"Stay away from my children. If you come near them again—"

"Your children." She chewed on the words mockingly, her lips curling into a vicious sneer. "Triplets. Storm-gray eyes. Five years old. Raised in a filthy human city, eating processed human food, and yet they run three times faster than anyone their age. Their teacher happened to mention your eldest cleared a four-foot chain-link fence last week just to chase a ball."

"He’s athletic," I lied through my teeth, my voice shaking slightly.

"Athletic?" Victoria scoffed, a dark, venomous smile curving her lips. "Ms. Green—or whatever your real, pathetic name actually is—who exactly do you think you’re fooling here? Humans don't have eyes that glow in the dark. Humans don't clear fences like trained wolves."

Noah reached around my leg and grabbed my hand. His tiny fingers were ice-cold, trembling slightly from the sheer effort of suppressing his own aura.

"Mommy," he whispered, his voice incredibly strained, "her scent is stinging my nose. It smells like sour poison."

Victoria’s smug smile faltered for a fraction of a second, a flash of genuine anger sparking in her eyes.

"Your son has a surprisingly good nose. Do you know why that is, baker?" She stepped closer, invading my space. "Because he’s an Alpha. All three of them are. Do you have any idea what the odds of natural triplets being Alphas are? It's one in a million. Practically impossible. Unless—"

"Unless their father is an Alpha of the absolute purest bloodline."

The deep, rumbling voice came from right behind us.

I spun around so fast I nearly tripped over my own feet.

Damian stood just outside the wrought-iron gates. I hadn’t heard him approach. Not a footstep, not a breath.

He wore a dark gray leather jacket, the afternoon sun casting harsh, unforgiving shadows across his sharp jawline. He looked massive, deadly, and completely out of place on this quiet human street.

His gaze dragged over my trembling form, taking in my protective stance, and then dropped slowly to the three boys huddled behind me.