Chapter 2
Three months in Portland, and I was finally starting to breathe again.
"Next," called the social worker, and I stood up, smoothing down my thrift store blouse. The fake ID in my purse read Sophie Martinez, complete with a backstory I'd rehearsed dozens of times. Escaped domestic violence. Father unknown. Just need a fresh start.
The lies came easier now.
"I see you're in your second trimester," Mrs. Patterson said, reviewing my application for assistance. "Have you been receiving proper prenatal care?"
"I just moved here," I replied, which was technically true. "I'm looking for a good doctor."
Two weeks later, I sat in Dr. Linda Hayes's office, trying not to fidget as she reviewed my ultrasound results.
"Everything looks healthy," she said with a warm smile. "Though I have to say, this little one is measuring quite large for gestational age. And these muscle development indicators..." She paused, studying the screen. "Well, you must have excellent genetics."
If only she knew.
"Is that... normal?" I asked.
"Some babies are just naturally stronger. I'd say you're carrying a future athlete."
Or a future Alpha.
Six months later
The contractions started at sunset on the night of the full moon. Because of course they did.
I'd chosen home birth specifically to avoid hospital complications, but as I gripped the midwife's hand and felt something that definitely wasn't a normal baby kick, I wondered if I'd made a mistake.
"Push, Sophie," encouraged Sarah, the midwife I'd hired through cash payments and minimal paperwork. "You're doing great."
The pain was unlike anything I'd imagined, as if something wild was fighting to break free. When Ethan finally emerged – all twelve pounds of him – the first thing I noticed wasn't his size, but his eyes. In the moonlight streaming through my bedroom window, they flashed with an unmistakable golden gleam.
"My goodness," Sarah breathed. "What a beautiful baby. Look at those eyes – they almost seem to glow."
Because they do.
"Just... just the light reflecting," I managed, exhausted.
But when I held him for the first time, Ethan didn't cry. He just stared at me with those too-knowing eyes and made a sound that was somewhere between a coo and a very soft growl.
What have I brought into this world?
Two years later
"Mama, why do the dogs always follow me?"
I looked up from my laptop where I'd been updating my online store – Mountain Crafts had become surprisingly successful, selling organic skincare products and herbal remedies to customers who believed in "natural living." It was the perfect cover for someone who needed to work from home and avoid too much human contact.
Ethan stood by the living room window, his face pressed against the glass. Outside, three neighborhood dogs sat in our front yard, tails wagging as they stared up at him.
"Maybe they like you," I said carefully.
Maybe they recognize what you are.
At two and a half, Ethan was the size of a four-year-old, with coordination that made other parents stare. He'd started walking at eight months, climbing at ten, and had never once fallen or gotten seriously hurt. His hearing was so acute that he'd wake up when Mrs. Chen – our sweet elderly neighbor – started her morning tea ritual two houses down.
"Can I go play with them?" he asked.
"Not today, baby. How about we read a story instead?"
He nodded solemnly – Ethan was always serious, rarely the giggling, carefree child other kids his age were. Sometimes I caught him watching me with an intensity that reminded me painfully of his father.
Mrs. Chen knocked on our door that afternoon, carrying a container of her homemade chicken soup.
"For the growing boy," she said in her soft accent, smiling at Ethan who had immediately hidden behind my legs. "He's getting so big. What do you feed him?"
"Just... good food. Lots of protein," I said, accepting the soup gratefully. Mrs. Chen had been a godsend these past two years – helpful without being nosy, kind without being intrusive.
"My grandson in Seattle, he's same age. But Ethan is so much bigger, so much... aware. Special boy."
That night, as I tucked Ethan into bed, he looked up at me with those golden eyes that seemed to see everything.
"Mama, why don't I have a daddy?"
My heart clenched. We'd managed to avoid this conversation so far, but I knew it was coming.
"Sometimes families are different, sweetheart. It's just you and me, and that's perfect."
"But I can smell him on you sometimes. When you have the sad dreams."
I froze. Smell him? "What do you mean, baby?"
"Like the woods. Like... home. But not our home." His little face scrunched in concentration. "Are we hiding from him?"
Too smart. Way too smart.
"We're not hiding," I lied, smoothing his dark hair – hair that was exactly the same shade as Alex's. "We're just living our life. Our safe, happy life."
He nodded, but I could see he didn't quite believe me.
Three months later
I was restocking my online inventory when the email notification pinged. New message from a customer interested in a bulk order of my herbal sleep aids. Nothing unusual, except...
The email address was [email protected].
My blood turned to ice. I stared at the screen, reading the message over and over:
"Heard great things about your natural remedies. Especially interested in products for families with... special dietary needs. Would love to discuss a substantial order. Can meet anytime."
My hands shook as I immediately deleted the email and shut down my laptop. Coincidence. It has to be a coincidence.
But the next day, Mrs. Chen mentioned seeing a man in an expensive suit asking questions around the neighborhood.
"Said he was looking for his sister," she told me over tea. "Sophie Martinez. That's your name, yes? But I told him I don't know anyone by that name."
Bless her.
"What did he look like?" I asked, trying to keep my voice casual.
**"Tall. Dark hair. Very..." she searched for the word, "intense. Nice eyes, but... hungry. Like wolf."
That night, I started packing.
But as I folded Ethan's too-small clothes and my pathetic collection of belongings, I realized something had changed. I wasn't the same terrified girl who'd run away three years ago. I was a mother now. A businesswoman. A survivor.
If they found us once, they'll find us again. Running isn't a permanent solution.
Ethan padded into the room in his pajamas, immediately sensing my distress.
"Are we leaving, Mama?"
"Maybe, baby. Would that be okay?"
He considered this with his characteristic seriousness. "Will you still keep me safe?"
"Always," I promised, pulling him into my arms. "No matter what happens, I will always keep you safe."
Even if it means facing the monster I ran from.
As I held my son – my brilliant, impossible, half-wolf son – I made a decision. I was done running. It was time to learn how to fight.
Outside, something howled in the distance, and Ethan's head snapped up, his eyes flashing gold in the lamplight.
"Someone's coming," he whispered.
I know, baby. I know.