Chapter Three - The Blood Awakens (Aria)

The first time it happened, I thought I was losing my mind.

I had been shelving books at the small-town library where I worked, balancing a stack higher than my chin, when one slipped. Reflex should have meant it crashed to the floor, but instead my hand darted out so fast the cover didn’t even hit the air. I stared at the book caught in my grip, my heart hammering. It hadn’t felt like instinct, it had felt like something else entirely. A surge.

Since then, the episodes have grown worse.

Now, standing in the quiet of my kitchen with the late-afternoon sun pouring across the tile, I gripped the edge of the counter until the Formica groaned under my fingers. A thin crack spread like a spiderweb beneath my palm.

“No,” I whispered, jerking my hand back. The skin was unmarked, but the counter… the counter told another story.

My stomach twisted, not with nausea this time but with dread. I pressed a hand to my swollen belly, five months rounded and firm beneath my shirt. “What are you doing to me, little one?” I murmured.

The baby shifted, a flutter that had become stronger in recent days. Almost purposeful. My wolf blood should have lain dormant here, among humans, unnoticed. I had been careful, so careful, when I ran. But the Alpha blood in my child wasn’t lying quietly. It was bleeding into me, changing me in ways I couldn’t hide forever.

That evening, the smells of the diner nearly drove me insane. Grease, onions, coffee, things I had worked around for months now overwhelmed me, sharp as knives in my nose. I blinked rapidly, hoping no one noticed. My coworker Sarah slid a plate onto the counter and frowned at me.

“You okay, Aria? You look… pale.”

I forced a smile. “Just pregnancy things.”

Sarah snorted. “Well, if you start craving pickles dipped in ice cream, don’t expect me to join you.”

I laughed, because that was what she expected. But inside, my chest was tight. Every sound in the diner was amplified, the scrape of forks, the hum of conversation, the buzz of the old neon sign outside. My ears twitched at each noise like I was prey on alert. Or predator.

Then it happened again.

A customer leaned too far on his chair, about to topple backwards. Before I thought, I was across the room, catching the chair leg before it hit the ground. Too fast. No one should move like that.

The man chuckled nervously. “Guess I should skip the third cup of coffee, huh?”

Sarah gave me a long look. “Quick reflexes, Aria.”

I swallowed, forcing a shrug. “Lucky timing.” But my hands trembled as I set the chair straight. My luck wouldn’t hold forever.

That night, sleep was impossible. The baby’s kicks were stronger than they had any right to be, almost bruising from the inside. I gasped, clutching my belly, and then something else rushed through me, a jolt of raw strength that left my limbs tingling. I shot upright in bed, chest heaving, eyes glowing faintly gold in the mirror across the room.

“No,” I whispered, pressing trembling fingers to my eyes. When I pulled them away, the glow dimmed, but the truth was undeniable. My child’s blood was bleeding into mine. Alpha’s blood.

The memory of him, the Alpha I had fled, flashed sharp as broken glass. His power, his presence, the night everything shattered. I had thought running would be enough. That distance and silence could keep his world from infecting mine. But his legacy was already here, burning in the veins of our unborn child.

The following day, I nearly slipped.

I carried two boxes of canned goods from the backroom of the diner, heavy enough that Sarah usually asked one of the busboys for help. But the weight felt like nothing. Too late, I realized she was watching.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” she joked. “You’ve got farmer strength or something?”

I forced a grimace, faking a strain that wasn’t there. “Adrenaline, maybe. I think the baby wants me to eat.”

She laughed and turned away, but my pulse was pounding. How long until someone noticed the cracks in the counters, the reflexes no human woman should have, the strength in my arms?

The fear gnawed at me every hour. Fear that one wrong move would expose me. Fear that the wrong person would see and whisper. Fear that word would spread, and the wolves would come.

That night, I went walking under the thin sliver of moon. The town was quiet, windows glowing warm with domestic light. I pulled my coat tighter, but the air carried every sound: the shuffle of a raccoon in the trash two streets away, the distant bark of a dog, the flutter of wings high above. It was too much. I clamped my hands over my ears, but the sounds only grew clearer.

I stumbled to the edge of the woods. The scent of pine and earth hit me, grounding me in a way the diner never could. My wolf blood recognized this place, called to it. For the first time in months, I let myself breathe deeply.

But then the shift inside me surged again. My vision sharpened, picking out every detail in the shadows: the glint of dew, the twitch of a rabbit’s nose, the far-off glow of headlights cresting the hill. My body hummed with strength that wasn’t mine. My child’s Alpha blood was rewriting me.

I fell to my knees, clutching my belly, whispering to the life inside me. “Please. Please stay quiet. I can’t let them see. I can’t let them find us.”

The baby kicked, hard and certain, as though answering me. A reminder: hiding might not be an option much longer.

The next morning, I found Sarah waiting outside my apartment. Her expression was concerned, not suspicious yet, it made my throat dry.

“You’ve been different lately,” she said. “I know pregnancy is tough, but… are you okay?”

I forced a smile that felt brittle. “I’m fine. Really. Just tired.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, like she didn’t believe me, but she didn’t press. She reached out and touched my arm. “You don’t have to do this alone, you know.”

If only she knew.

When she left, I locked the door and slid down against it, heart hammering. I couldn’t let her get too close. Couldn’t let anyone close. Because if they saw too much, if they guessed, my child and I would never be safe.

And deep down, I knew the clock was ticking. My strength was growing, my senses sharper by the day. This secret would not stay buried.

The Alpha’s blood was awakening.