Sparks of Destiny

POV: Olivia

The sound dragged me out of sleep like claws raking across my nerves.

At first, I thought it was a dream—the low, raw sound rising in the dark, animal and aching. Then Harvey arched on his bed, sweat beading on his brow, lips parting as a sound tore free that wasn’t human at all.

A howl.

Thin. Rough. Wolf.

The blood drained from my face.

“Harvey.” My whisper cracked as I scrambled to his bedside. His little chest rose and fell too fast, his fists knotted in the sheets. The sound ripped out again, higher this time, shaking the air.

The girls stirred—Daisy whimpering, Lily sitting up, blinking owlishly.

“Was that Harvey?” she mumbled. “He sounds—”

“Shhh.” I pressed a trembling finger to my lips. My heart thudded so hard I thought the neighbors would hear it. What if they had? What if someone outside this house heard that wild, bone-deep cry?

I touched Harvey’s shoulder. “Baby, wake up.”

His eyes fluttered open—blue, soft, human again. “Mama?” he whispered, drowsy, like nothing had happened.

I dragged him into my arms, cradling him so tightly he squirmed. “Just a dream,” I lied into his hair, though the taste of ash coated my tongue. “Just a dream.”

But wolves didn’t howl in dreams.

They howled because the wolf inside was awake.

And Harvey was only five.

---

It didn’t stop there.

The next week, the school called me. “Hyden had… an episode.”

I arrived to chaos. Children pressed to the far wall, some crying, some whispering. Parents had already been called. The teacher’s face was chalk-pale, her hands shaking as she pointed at the corner.

Hyden stood alone, his tiny chest heaving, fists balled. His toy truck lay smashed at his feet.

“He—his eyes,” the teacher stammered.

I already knew.

I crouched fast, scooping him into my arms. His little body trembled, his cheek pressed into my neck. And gods help me, when I pulled back to look—his eyes flickered. Black. For a heartbeat. Then human again.

A mother yanked her child closer. “What’s wrong with him?”

The teacher swallowed hard, words strangled. “His eyes—”

“It’s a genetic condition,” I cut in sharply, my voice colder than ice. “Rare. Sometimes his pupils dilate under stress. He’s fine. He’s human.”

Silence. No one believed me. But fear made them stay quiet.

I stormed out with Hyden clinging to me, my heart slamming against my ribs. Outside, in the safety of the car, I crumpled against the steering wheel, shaking. My lie wouldn’t hold forever.

Alpha blood didn’t hide. Not forever.

---

That night, I called Hana.

She arrived without hesitation, her doctor’s bag slung over one shoulder. Her face was tight, grim. She didn’t need details—I think she already knew.

I laid Harvey and Hyden down on the couch, trying to keep my hands from trembling. Hana pulled out instruments, her silence cutting deeper than any words.

She started with Harvey. Checked vitals. Reflexes. Listened to his chest. Then Hyden, who fidgeted and scowled under the stethoscope.

The beeping of her scanner filled the quiet. My pulse raced with it.

When she finally looked up, her hands shook. Just a little. But I saw it.

“This isn’t ordinary,” she said softly. “Olivia, this is Alpha blood. Pure. Strong. Too strong for their age.”

My knees buckled. I gripped the table for balance. “They’re only children. They’re just—” My voice fractured. “It’s too soon.”

Her silence was answer enough.

I turned away, pressing my fist to my mouth. The sound that broke out of me was half sob, half scream. Aria’s arms were around me in an instant, holding me together while my world cracked all over again.

Hana’s voice came low, careful. “If he hasn’t felt them yet… he will soon. Alpha blood doesn’t stay quiet. When it rises, every wolf feels it.”

The words landed like a blade to the chest.

I buried my face in Aria’s shoulder, sobs tearing free until I shook. She stroked my hair, whispering fiercely, “You’ve kept them safe this long. You’ll keep them safe still. We’ll find a way.”

But her promise didn’t stop the terror clawing through me.

I slipped into the nursery after they left, watching the boys sleeping side by side, their little hands curled into fists even in dreams. Daisy’s lashes fluttered. Lily mumbled in her sleep.

I pressed a hand over my mouth to stifle the sound that wanted to rip free.

“He’ll feel this,” I whispered into the dark. My knees hit the floor beside their beds. “He’ll know.”

The bond hummed faint, aching like an old scar. The noose was tightening, and I knew it was only a matter of time before the walls I’d built came crashing down.