My Triplet Alphas

Through the fog

Cassidy’s Point of View

I was floating.

Drifting through shadows and memories, my body too heavy to move, but my mind unable to rest.

Then, somewhere far away, I heard it — a beep. Slow. Steady. A machine?

My eyelids twitched.

I wasn’t cold. That was the first thing I noticed. For so long, I had been freezing. The metal cage. The concrete floors. The cold of Carl’s blade. The freezing emptiness after my husband was killed in front of me.

Now… warmth. Sheets. A pillow under my head. A softness I hadn’t felt in months.

I drew a breath.

And froze.

Scent.

Three of them. Each different. Each overwhelming in its own way. Earthy, spiced, rich.

One reminded me of burning pinewood and sharp rain — crisp and sharp.

Another carried the weight of warm clove and smoke, a deeper kind of comfort.

The third — sandalwood and lightning, wild and unrestrained.

They wrapped around me like invisible threads. I didn’t know what they meant, but they called to something deep in my chest. Something ancient and raw that I didn’t understand.

A sound escaped me — a dry rasp. My throat burned as I forced my eyes open.

The light hurt. The white ceiling swam above me. I blinked, and shapes shifted into focus.

Three men stood around my bed.

For a terrifying second, I thought I was still in the bunker — that Carl had clones. They looked the same — tall, broad-shouldered, with jet-black hair and storm-gray eyes. But then I saw the differences. The way one stood tense with arms crossed. Another leaned forward with worry etched in his face. The third paced, his hands twitching.

They weren’t Carl. They weren’t him.

And yet… I couldn’t breathe.

“She’s awake,” the one standing nearest said, voice low and careful.

Another stepped forward. “Cassidy?” he asked. “You’re safe now. You’re with us.”

I tried to speak, but my throat was dry, and panic surged again. My hands fluttered weakly against the blanket, searching.

“Water,” one of them muttered. Then a straw touched my lips. I drank greedily, coughing after the first sip.

“You’re okay,” said the third. “You’re safe. I swear it.”

I swallowed. “Who… where am I?”

The man closest to me — the one with the clove and smoke scent — answered gently. “You’re at the Midnight Howlers’ Pack hospital. We rescued you from the Nightshade compound. You’ve been unconscious for ten days.”

Hospital. Pack. Rescue.

Everything was a blur.

“My baby?” I asked, voice cracking. “Is my baby…?”

A sharp intake of breath from all three men. Then the one pacing bolted for the door. Moments later, a doctor entered — a woman with silver-streaked dark hair and a kind but focused expression.

“You’re very lucky, Cassidy,” she said, checking the monitors. “So is your child.”

I closed my eyes in relief, tears leaking down my cheeks.

“Hybrid pregnancy,” she continued. “Half-werewolf, with Alpha blood. The baby’s progressing quickly. You’re a little over halfway, and we expect a healthy delivery in about two more months.”

“Alpha… blood?” I whispered.

I didn’t understand. None of this made sense. I was human. My husband was human. The baby couldn’t be—

A memory stabbed through the fog — Carl, grinning as he touched my belly, then cursing when the baby kicked.

Something had happened. Something I hadn’t been told.

“We’ll talk more when you’ve rested,” the doctor said. “But for now, you’re stable, and healing. The scarring will fade. The pain will ease. Focus on resting.”

She left, and the room was quiet again — except for the beeping and the breathing of the three strangers still watching me.

“I don’t even know your names,” I whispered.

“I’m Zander,” said the man who’d given me water.

“Zayden,” said the one with the stormy presence and tense arms.

“Zavier,” said the third, offering a small nod. “We’re… brothers.”

That explained the resemblance. But didn’t explain why my skin prickled in their presence. Why my heart raced with every breath I took near them.

Or why their scents felt like something I’d known all my life.

“What’s happening to me?” I asked, more to myself than them.

The brothers exchanged glances, like they were trying to decide how much to say.

“You’ve been through hell,” Zander said, voice thick. “You don’t have to understand everything right now. Just know you’re not alone.”

But I was. My husband was gone. My daughter was somewhere, hopefully safe. And I was broken. Fractured in body and mind.

Still, something in the room made it hard to curl back into numbness.

It was the way they looked at me — not with pity, but with a kind of awe they didn’t know how to explain. Like they were just as confused as I was.

“You don’t smell like them,” I murmured, surprising myself. “The ones who kept us. You smell… different.”

Their eyes widened slightly.

Zavier leaned forward. “What do you mean?”

I shook my head. “It’s like I can feel you before I see you. Smell you before I remember you’re even in the room. That’s not normal, right?”

Zayden crossed his arms tighter. “Not for humans.”

“But… for wolves?” I asked. “Is this some… werewolf thing?”

Zander hesitated. “Maybe. You should rest. Your body’s gone through trauma. Your mind even more.”

I wanted to argue, but I was already slipping again. The fog returned, heavier now, more demanding.

But just before sleep took me, I caught their scents again — pine, smoke, sandalwood — and the strange warmth they carried.

I didn’t understand what they were.

Or what I was becoming.

But for the first time in a long time… I didn’t feel completely alone.