The Rise of the Wolf

Chapter 3

Daniel

I tried calling Jackson after Amy ran off to find her mother, but it was clear he needed some time to calm himself.

"Jackson, do you need anything? Should I stay with you?" I asked. "It’s not a problem."

"No, son. Go home. You need rest as well. But thank you for standing by me today."

"Jackson, I didn’t even do anything. I didn’t get a chance to speak a single word to Alpha Emanuel."

"It’s all right, Daniel," Jackson replied, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "You were there. That’s enough for me. Things could’ve gotten out of control, and who knows how it might’ve ended—maybe worse for me. Maybe even worse for her. You know how it is... even the thought of a brutal punishment wasn’t far-fetched."

I nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. What he said wasn’t an exaggeration. Alpha Emanuel wasn’t a cruel leader—certainly not the kind to treat pack members like slaves. But he was still an Alpha. And the worst thing for any wolf of lower rank was to publicly challenge him, especially as an Omega. Jackson had tread dangerous ground today. The only thing that might have saved him was the clear desperation of a father pleading for his daughter, not issuing a challenge. Still, it was a close call, and everyone knew it.

"I’ll see you tomorrow then, Jackson," I said, knowing there wasn’t much else I could do tonight.

Talking to Amy wouldn’t help either. She was a sweet girl, Jackson’s only daughter, and I had a soft spot for her. But she and I weren’t exactly close. There was too much of a gap between us—I was 27, and she was 18. Nine years might not seem like much, but it meant that our worlds didn’t overlap much, even though we’d both gone to the same high school. It was the only one nearby, located in a small human town on the edge of the pack’s territory.

For me, high school had been a functional experience—a place to learn useful things and, more importantly, figure out how to blend in with humans. I’d never shared Amy’s ambitions. I wasn’t a top student, not by a long shot. But like most young Omega males, I knew my future. It was written in the unspoken rules of the pack. I’d work for one of the companies owned by us, contributing to the infrastructure and economy that allowed us to stay hidden. Humans had no idea we existed, and keeping it that way was one of the few hard laws that made sense to me.

Sure, they had their myths and legends about werewolves, most of them absurd. In their stories, we were monstrous hybrids, terrorizing villages, preying on livestock—or people. Maybe there was some truth in that... thousands of years ago. But humans evolved, and so did we. These days, keeping our existence secret wasn’t just a rule; it was survival. Humans might lack our strength, our speed, or our heightened senses, but they were clever—clever enough to turn anything new they discovered into a weapon. The last thing we needed was to be exposed.

Even so, we weren’t relics clinging to the past. We embraced modern life in ways that didn’t conflict with our nature. We had phones, watched Netflix, and enjoyed every bit of human progress that didn’t threaten us. At the same time, we protected the natural world they seemed determined to destroy.

Our pack owned several businesses—legitimate ones that integrated seamlessly into the local economy. I worked for our construction company, repairing and expanding the housing scattered across our mountainous territory. Nature here was harsh, and no matter how solid the builds, constant moisture and brutal winters always left something to be fixed. Lately, we'd seen a surge of demand for vacation homes. Humans, despite their obsession with cities and technology, couldn’t seem to resist the allure of escaping to nature, even for a weekend.

They didn’t consciously realize it, but it was in their blood. Just like us. For all their arrogance and ignorance about their own nature, humans felt the pull of the wild, even if it was just a cabin tucked into the trees. They thought of it as a break from reality, never understanding it was reality—the one they’d been running from for generations.

And so, we built for them. Strong houses, places they could retreat to and feel safe, even if they didn’t understand why they craved it.

However, people's growing desire to spend their free time in nature has been a boon for our construction business. Our most recent project was to build a traditional holiday retreat tailored specifically to our mountain region in Colorado. The land once belonged to a local farmer, a human, who had a long family history of cattle farming. Sadly, the last owner, Patrick— the fifth or sixth generation—passed away in his early thirties from aggressive cancer.

Our kind have been spared from such diseases, thanks to our unique immunity and physical resilience. I've often attributed humanity's struggles with health to their unhealthy lifestyles and poor diets, but Patrick’s case made me think twice. He lived a balanced life, growing up here in the clean mountain air, far from pollution and fast food. It just goes to show—you never truly know.

Patrick never married, and his relatives, who lived out in California, had no idea how to manage a farm. To their credit, they were smart enough to admit it wasn’t something you could learn over a weekend, so they put the land up for sale. I heard that Alpha initially considered buying it, but the farm was too close to human settlements. An uncontrolled shift from one of our younger males, especially the warriors, would have put us all at risk. In the end, the land was purchased by an investment company, which later sold it to a hotel chain planning to build a five-star mountain resort complete with a spa and wellness center. Humans, especially wealthy women, seem to love those above all else.

This project had been one of the most complex we've undertaken. For the past three months, we had been working intensively, and we’re finally nearing the stage where the hotel chain would send their project manager. This person would oversee the final stages of construction, coordinate with their designers on the interior finishing, and start assembling the staff. Their goal was to have everything ready for the grand opening, planned no later than three months from now. And I was happy that this kept us so busy, as I continued to come back to an empty home.

My mom had moved back to her pack when I turned eighteen. She told me that after my dad's passing to live here with the Stoney Falls pack was a torment as everything here reminded her of him and what she lost. She knew for me this was home, the only home i knew and a good home it was. But I was now a grown man, an adult and would eventually find my mate and build my own family.

As soon as I graduated high school and started my first job, she asked and got permission to return to her old pack where she had two siblings and lots of relatives. We still talked at least once per week and I could not deny that she took the best decision. It seemed that she indeed found piece and her relatives and siblings were her support system.

One thing she did not anticipate and neither had I for that matter, was that I would not find my mate soon.

Nine years. Nine long years of waiting, hoping, and searching. Every day, the scent of my mate eluded me, like a whisper in the wind that I could never quite catch. I remembered the excitement I felt when I turned eighteen, the anticipation of finally meeting the one person who would complete me. But as the years passed, that excitement turned into a gnawing ache, a constant reminder of what I was missing.

I had attended countless matching balls, mingling with other packs, hoping that maybe, just maybe, my mate would be there. Each time, I left with the same emptiness, the same sense of longing. It was hard not to feel discouraged, to not let the loneliness seep into my bones. But I couldn’t give up. I wouldn’t give up. Choosing a woman who wasn’t my true mate would have been a betrayal, not just to her, but to myself. It would have been a lie, a hollow imitation of the bond I was meant to have.

So, I threw myself into my work, volunteering for overtime, especially during the holiday retreats. It was a welcome distraction, a way to keep my mind busy and my heart from breaking. The hours blurred together, and for a while, I could almost forget the emptiness inside me. But then, the quiet moments came, and the loneliness crashed over me like a tidal wave.

I saw my friends with their mates, the way they looked at each other with such love and devotion. It was a bittersweet sight, a reminder of what I was missing, but also a beacon of hope. If they found their mates, then so could I. I had to believe that my mate was out there, somewhere, waiting for me just as I was waiting for her.

Until then, I would keep searching, keep hoping, and keep fighting against the darkness that threatened to consume me. Because one day, I would find her. And when I did, all this waiting would have been worth it.