Alpha's Secret Heir

"Mama, if I turn into a wolf in my sleep, will I eat my blanket again?" Calen’s voice was dead serious, his tiny brows drawn low as he tugged the covers up to his chin. I paused mid-tuck, pressing my lips together to keep from laughing. “Only if the blanket misbehaves.” His eyes went wide. “It does slide off sometimes.” “That’s just gravity, baby. Not rebellion.”I gently smoothed his messy curls and pressed a kiss to his forehead..He had the scent of pine needles mixed with a hint of peanut butter, the scent of childhood. I wish I could bottle it. Keep it safe. Because safe didn’t last. Not for long. Across the room, Maris and Elara were already burrowed under the quilt they insisted on sharing—even though they kicked each other all night. Elara’s eyes were closed, her dark lashes brushing the curve of her cheek, but I knew she was faking. She always faked first. Maris stared at the ceiling, lips moving in silence, probably telling the moon one of her secrets again. She’d been doing that more lately. Talking to things that didn’t answer back. Or maybe they did. I didn’t ask. I waited until their breathing slowed, then rose from the bedside and crossed the creaky floor on bare feet. The cabin wasn’t much—just wood, stone, and charm scraped together with blood and claw. But it was ours. No pack. No eyes watching from the trees. Just me and my children, hidden behind layers of magic, mountains, and willpower. I reached the door and paused, my hand lingering just above the latch.. Something felt...off. The wind had shifted. It wasn’t just colder—it was strange. Like someone had rearranged the scent of the world and gotten it just slightly wrong. I stepped out onto the porch, every sense on edge. Cold air bit at my skin. The trees swayed in rhythm with the wind, soft and slow. Too slow. The forest had gone quiet—and not in the usual nighttime hush. This was something deeper. A silence with teeth. I inhaled deeply, sorting through the scents. Pine. Moss. Distant snow. And— Burned sage. No. Not sage. Wolfsbane. I blinked. My stomach dropped. That shouldn’t be here. Not this far up north. Not this close to the cabin. I grabbed the railing. My hand was shaking a bit. Tried to steady myself. Breathe. Slow it down. In. Out. Just breathe. Panicking wouldn’t help. It never had. It only made the shift itch under my skin, made it harder to hold onto human thought. But still. Wolfsbane? Who the hell— A branch cracked in the woods to my left. Not a deer. Not a raccoon. Too heavy. Too deliberate. I turned and scanned the trees, muscles coiling. “Show yourself,” I said, low and sharp. No reason to play dumb. I wasn’t the type to bluff. I was the type to strike first and bury later. No one answered. Another crunch. Closer this time. I moved toward the sound, down the steps, and into the trees. Bare feet. Cold dirt. No flashlight. I didn’t need one. I was born in the dark. Every instinct screamed. My wolf rose just beneath the surface, lips curled and ears flattened. Not shifting. Not yet. But close. Then—nothing. Just wind and whispering pines. No. Not whispering. Humming. The trees were humming. I spun around and hurried back to the porch, my hands shaking harder than I liked. My brain raced through possibilities—natural wards failing, someone breaking through the old magic, or— Or someone had found us. I closed the door behind me and locked it. Then bolted it. Then pushed the dresser in front of it, just in case. In the bedroom, the kids were still asleep. Safe. For now. I sat down in the worn armchair by the fire and stared into the embers. Let the heat lick at my legs and the worry curl behind my ribs. Six years. I’d kept them hidden for six years. No pack. No name. No father. No mistakes. Until tonight. I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes. I couldn’t lose them. Not again. Not ever. I’d already lost too much—my place, my mate, my dignity. But not them. They were mine. I’d bled for them. Killed for them. Survived for them. The fire popped. I jumped. Goddamn it. Get it together, Ayla. A creak came from the hallway. I was on my feet before my mind caught up. Then I saw him, Calen. Tiny, blinking, clutching a battered stuffed wolf to his chest. “Mama?” My voice cracked. “What are you doing up, baby?” He looked down. “I... had a dream. You were crying.” I crouched down beside him, pushed his hair back a little. Hey, dreams aren’t real, alright? Just you and me here. Nothing’s gonna get you. He stared at me, solemn. “But this one felt like it was coming from you.” I froze. Children dream of things. They say strange things. It doesn’t mean anything. Except... my kids weren’t normal. Not really. They were born of Alpha blood and raised by an Omega mother who’d taught them to lie low, speak softly, and never, ever talk about who they were. Not even to themselves. But lately, things had changed. Calen had started hearing things. Maris had drawn symbols she couldn’t explain. Elara... Elara had started vanishing. Not just hiding. Vanishing. It scared me more than I let on. I scooped Calen up, held him close, and carried him back to his bed. Shh, it’s okay. Sleep now, I said, real soft, kissed him on the forehead. No more wolf dreams tonight, okay? Just rest. He nodded. “Okay. But Mama?” “Yeah?” His fingers curled in mine. “They’re coming.” I stopped breathing. “Who?” His eyes fluttered shut. “I don’t know. But they want you.” Got this weird chill crawling down my back. Just stood there for a while, watching him, waiting to make sure he was asleep. My heart wouldn’t slow down, just pounding like crazy. I left and headed for the living room, I couldn’t sit still, just started pacing. Something was wrong. And I needed to prepare. I went to the closet and pulled out the pack I'd hoped never to touch again. Inside: cash, fake IDs, a revolver with silver rounds—not for defense. For deterrence. No one with real power ever used silver. That was just myth to scare humans. But it looked scary. And sometimes, that was enough. I grabbed the knife next—curved, silver-handled, engraved with the Blackthorn family crest. I hated that I still had it. Hated that part of me couldn’t let it go. Lucien Blackthorn. The man who’d rejected me, broken me, left me. And never knew he had children. I told myself he didn’t deserve to know. It was safer this way. But now... now I wasn’t so sure. I slipped the knife into my belt and walked back over to the door. Took a breath. Pushed it open a tiny bit, just enough to peek out. The heart is still going wild. The air smelled cleaner. Normal. Whatever had been here was gone. For now. Then I closed the door and rested, putting my forehead gently against the frame. I was being hunted. That much was clear. But they wouldn’t take my children. Not while I breathed. Not while I bled. And if this was the beginning of something? If the wind was whispering the start of a storm? Then let it come. Let it all come. Because I had fire in my blood. And I’d burn the world before I let it steal my pack.