Alpha's Protective Pup

ISLA I ran through the forest as fast as my feet could carry me, branches whipping against my skin. The words ‘You’re a werewolf’ kept playing on repeat in my mind. It was on a constant loop, but it couldn’t be true. How the hell could I be a werewolf? Had I seen a wolf shift in front of me into a man? Yes. Had my wound healed faster than I expected? Yes. But all it meant was that werewolves were genuine creatures, not just fictional creations. It was too far-fetched to fathom that I was one. As soon as the healer departed, I seized the opportunity to escape from that place. I would not sit around and listen to their made up crap. While I appreciated them taking me in and allowing me to heal, their tales were too much. I could accept the idea of werewolves, but admitting that I was one took my disbelief to a whole new level. I ran through the forest surrounding my grandfather’s farm, my memory hazy from being unconscious during the trip to their den. We had many occasions where we explored the woods together, with Papa ensuring his gun was always at his side. The idea of traveling through it alone was unfamiliar to me. When I put enough distance between me and the den, I stopped to catch my breath, trying my best to calm myself. However, this did little to settle me. As I breathed in deep, the myriad of unfamiliar smells that danced through the air captivated me, making it hard to discern one from the other. I muttered a curse under my breath and dug my nails into the palm of my hand. The sudden action startled me, and I let out a loud yelp. My eyes darted to my hand, which had deep, bloody halfmoon-shaped marks on it. Even though I always kept my nails trimmed short, I had somehow dug in with enough force to draw blood. Upon closer examination of my nails, I discovered they had become elongated and had a claw-like appearance. “f**k,” I whispered under my breath, my mind spinning. This had to be some fluke. How could it be anything else? Doubt consumed me as I questioned whether I was stuck in a coma or trapped in a never-ending nightmare. The chances of that being the case were as slim as a needle, but my mind was desperate to make sense of what was happening. I was seconds from going back to find my grandfather’s farm when I heard a low, growling sound from somewhere nearby. The moment the strange, eerie noise reached my ears, a feeling of foreboding settled in, making my hairs stand on end. Startled, I searched in the direction from which the sound emanated, my muscles tensing. There, meandering toward me, was a goddamned bear, its deep growls sending a wave of fear through my body. A f*****g bear was the cherry on top of an already shitty situation. In these woods, there were countless animals, but encountering a bear had never crossed my mind. Then again, I didn’t believe in werewolves until a few days ago, either. Now, the memory of their glowing yellow eyes haunted my dreams. It seemed there was a first time for everything. The bear growled again as it drew closer, and that was all it took for the wolf inside me—the very thing I’d been trying to deny—to react. I growled back, and an odd sensation took over as I felt myself shifting. With an instinctual fear propelling me, I sprinted toward the black bear faster than any human could. With a hasty swipe of my claw, the animal retreated, its tail disappearing into the distance. The incomplete transformation into wolf form meant that shifting back took no time at all. It didn’t hurt, but it felt foreign to me for obvious reasons. Despite averting a bear attack, I couldn’t shake off the unsettling sensation that lingered within me. The realization hit me like a bolt of lightning—I had just experienced a partial shift into werewolf form, leaving me in a state of shock. This meant that the healer had been telling the truth all along. The scent of the forest triggered something primal within me, a reminder of the werewolf blood that flowed through my veins. It would’ve been nice if either of my parents had let me in on the secret. But had they been aware of it? I fantasized about asking them, but it seemed my only option was to reach out through one of those Ouija boards and attempt to connect them from beyond the grave. It took a few hours, but I finally mustered up the reluctant motivation to head back to the den. Faced with limited options, I concluded I had to return there. The events that unfolded back at the den and in the forest left me with no choice but to accept my true nature as a werewolf. Either I could continue to run from it and deal with the unknown changes on my own or be with people who would understand what I was going through. When I got to the den, it was close to midnight. Though they permitted me to enter, I couldn’t escape the prying eyes of the pack as I made my way through. Their stares pierced through me, mocking and belittling, as if I were a foolish pup who had learned the hard way that running was a futile endeavor. The overwhelming uncertainty of my future cast a heavy shadow, enveloping me in its grip. My mind whispered doubts, echoing in my ears, as the scent of fresh rain mingled with the lush earth. A pang of nostalgia tugged at my heart, reminding me I could never go back to the life I once knew. CHAPTER 1 ISLA T he only place I ever felt at home was Papa’s. He had a small but thriving farm in the country that had been in his family for generations. Without fail, I would spend my summers visiting him, and we would always find ourselves immersed in a world of excitement and happiness. One would think that a city girl like me would hate spending an extended period in the country, but I never felt that way. In the city, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being out of my element, like a fish out of water—as if I was going through the motions. In my youth, I possessed a sense of defiance, always complaining about the cramped living arrangements in our two-bedroom apartment. I hated the noise, the people, the smells, and everything the city stood for. It seemed very over-stimulating. My parents were happy to let me spend time with my grandfather during the summer and holidays. It allowed them to have some peace for a while. Dealing with me as a child was no simple task. Once I was old enough, I learned to force myself to fake it for the sake of my parents and survive in this world. I graduated from high school, went to college, and got a job working in a law firm. The job paid very well, but I was never happy or satisfied. I always felt there was something missing in my life