The Alpha's sons

Her blood turned ice-cold. She listened. Silence.“Liam, there’s nothing—” “It’s getting louder,” he said urgently, eyes wide with fear. Panic surged through her. She grabbed Liam’s hand, turned on her heel, and rushed out the door. She barely took the time to lock it before shoving Liam back into the car. As she started the engine, her hands shook. She didn’t know what was happening, but she knew one thing—they couldn’t stay here tonight. Violet’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly as she drove through the dimly lit streets. The city lights flickered against the windshield, but all she could focus on was her son, Liam, sitting quietly in the passenger seat. His small fingers clung to the hem of his hoodie, his wide eyes darting around nervously. "Mom," Liam whispered, barely loud enough to hear. "Is it following us?" Violet glanced at him before turning her attention back to the road. A chill ran through her spine. She wanted to tell him there was nothing to be afraid of. That the claw marks on the wall were probably just some prank, that the open door was just her own forgetfulness. But she couldn’t lie—not to him, not to herself. She had checked the lock before leaving for work that morning." We’re safe, baby," she said, though her voice was tighter than she intended. "We’re going to the restaurant, okay?" Liam only nodded, but his little hands never stopped gripping his hoodie. By the time she reached the restaurant, the place was empty except for a single kitchen staffer finishing up for the night. Marco looked up from wiping the counter, his dark brows furrowing at the sight of them rushing in." Boss?" Marco set the rag down. "Everything alright?" Violet pressed her lips together, debating whether to tell him. The last thing she needed was to sound paranoid. "Yeah, just—" "Something was in the house," Liam cut in. "I heard it." Marco’s gaze shifted between them before he sighed. "You want me to check it out? I can swing by—" "No," Violet said quickly. "We’re fine. "We just need a place to stay for the night." Marco hesitated before nodding. "You can crash here. I’ll grab you a blanket from the back." As he disappeared, Violet crouched down to Liam’s level, brushing back his curls. "Why don’t you take a seat in my office, huh? I’ll be right there." Liam nodded hesitantly before wandering off toward the small office space in the back of the restaurant. Once she was sure he was settled, Violet exhaled and sat down on one of the bar stools, resting her elbows on the counter. Marco returned with a blanket draped over his shoulder and a steaming mug in his hand. "Chamomile," he said, setting it down in front of her. "You look like you’ve seen a ghost." Violet let out a weak laugh. "Maybe I have." She hesitated, staring at the small rip in her sleeve—a reminder of how quickly she had grabbed Liam and run. Marco leaned against the counter. "Talk to me." She shook her head. "It’s nothing." "Violet." His voice was low, steady. The kind of voice that always made her feel grounded. She swallowed hard and finally told him about the door, the claw marks, the footsteps only Liam could hear. Marco stayed quiet, absorbing every word. When she finished, he ran a hand over his stubbled jaw. "That’s… weird," he admitted. "You think it’s got anything to do with that creepy rich guy you cooked for?" Violet tensed. She hadn’t mentioned Mr. Kingston. Marco raised a brow at her silence. "It’s about him, isn’t it?" "I don’t know," Violet muttered. "It was just a job," Marco scoffed. "Come on, I know you. If it was just a job, you wouldn’t be gripping that mug like you’re about to snap it in half." Violet sighed, rubbing her temples. "He just… made me uncomfortable. He kept staring. He asked too many personal questions. "Like what?" " If I was seeing anyone." She clenched her jaw. "And then when I finished cooking, he spat out the food, insulted it, and then—"She hesitated, heat rising in her face." And then what?" "He looked at me," Violet whispered. "Like he was… hungry. And not for food." Marco’s expression darkened. "And you’re telling me that’s got nothing to do with what happened at your house?" "I don’t know!" Violet snapped, then exhaled. "I just… I don’t know." Marco stared at her for a long moment before shaking his head. "Alright. Here’s what we’re going to do. You and Liam are staying here tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll go with you to check out your place. If anything’s weird, you’re reporting it." Violet hesitated but eventually nodded." Good," Marco said. "Now, get some rest." She didn’t argue. She was too tired, too overwhelmed. But as she curled up on the small couch in her office, Liam snuggled beside her. She couldn’t shake the feeling. That somewhere out there… someone was watching. Violet woke up to the soft glow of morning light filtering through the small, dusty window of the backroom. The space was cramped, barely enough for a bed and a nightstand, but she had built it for emergencies like this. And last night was an emergency. She exhaled slowly, trying to shake the unease that clung to her like damp clothes. Her fingers ached from gripping the steering wheel too tightly the night before. She turned her head and saw Liam curled up beside her, his small chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. For a moment, she allowed herself to believe everything was normal. Then she saw them. The claw marks. They were on Liam’s side of the bed, faint but undeniable. Her stomach twisted. No, no, no. Not yet. She had known this day would come, but she had hoped—prayed—it wouldn’t start so soon. Liam shifted in his sleep, and Violet studied his peaceful face, brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead. He looked like any other seven-year-old. But he wasn’t. And she knew exactly why. The claw marks were small. Which meant… They were his. Violet swallowed hard, a memory surfacing—one she had buried deep. The night she found out she was pregnant, she had stood in front of the mirror for hours, staring at herself, wondering what kind of child she would bring into the world. Wondering if his blood would betray him. Now, she had her answer. She took a steadying breath and reached out, gently shaking Liam’s shoulder. “Time to wake up, sweetheart.” He mumbled something incoherent before his eyes fluttered open. He yawned, stretching his arms before sitting up.“Morning, Mom.” “Morning.” She forced a smile. “Let’s get you dressed.” As he got up and reached for his clothes, Violet sat on the edge of the small bed, her mind racing. She should keep him close. Keep him safe. But she couldn’t. She had to take him to school. Whatever was after them—it wasn’t after Liam. Not yet. It wanted her. But he had heard it. That meant something. She clenched her jaw, determination settling into her bones. If she was going to protect her son, she needed to prepare him.“Liam,” she said, keeping her voice light, “can you come here for a second?” He looked up, his small hands fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. “Yeah?” She patted the bed beside her. “I want to tell you something.” He sat next to her, his legs swinging slightly. “What is it?”