The Alpha Triangle

Awakening

It was pitch black, warm, and completely silent. A sense of calm came over me as a small yellow light appeared at what seemed like the end of a hallway. Slowly, I got to my feet and walked toward the soft glow.

A high-pitched beep pierced the silence, wailing in my ears. The light began to drift away. Frantically, I lunged forward into a full sprint, but with every step, the light retreated farther. My fingers stretched forward as far as they could go and the warmth intensified. The light was almost within reach.

A shrill voice screamed, “Freya!”

The warmth and light were snatched from my reach. I bolted upright in bed. Heart pounding and sweat dripping from my forehead.

I laid my head against the pillow and rolled onto my left side. The alarm clock still chirped until I slammed my right hand over it. A cool breeze filtered through the open window, pulling me deeper under the covers.

“Freya!” came the voice again, louder this time.

I drug myself out of bed, groggily shutting the window before pulling on a tight pair of jeans over my bare legs. My tattered nightshirt fell from my shoulders as I tossed it into a corner and replaced it with a ribbed, hot pink halter top.

On my way to the bathroom, I kicked off yesterday’s socks and slipped on a fresh pair. My dark auburn hair clung to my back, and parted in waves from the heavy humidity. It wasn’t the kind of hair that curled in perfect spirals like the girls you would see in beach magazines, but it didn’t lay flat either, despite my best efforts.

I gathered the thick strands into a Dutch braid and tied it off with a black scrunchie. Even braided, it hung past my hips.

One final shout of my name pulled me to the edge of the stairs. They looked steeper than usual. It took everything inside of me to take the first step down that daunting staircase.

Today would mark the last day of my childhood.

Once I reached the bottom of the stairs, my senses were flooded with comfort. An array of my favorite breakfast foods lined the dining room table including blueberry danishes, fluffy scrambled eggs, German pancakes, and bacon among other options. Royal blue and deep indigo Gerber daisies stood in stained glass vases, catching the morning light.

At the head of the table stood my mother. The Luna of our pack. Her soft smile didn’t quite mask the question hovering behind her eyes. She looked like she wanted to speak, but couldn’t find the right words.

I reached for a blueberry danish, but the air seemed to shift. A heavy presence entered the room. Alpha Alex. My father.

Sure, he was my dad, but any trace of affection had disappeared with the man he used to be. His silence was louder than words, and I could feel his gaze drilling into the back of my head. Without looking at him, I let go of the danish and reached for a Honeycrisp apple instead.

My mother’s expression faltered. With a quiet sigh, she picked up the danish and gently pressed it into my free hand. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her glare at my father. Daggers flying silently from her eyes. “I hope your day gets better,” she said softly. “Grab Liam on your way to the training fields.”

The danish was already melting in my hand, the blueberry filling started to leak between my fingers. I set it down on the side table, wiped my palm on my jeans, and slammed the door behind me.

I hopped down the front steps two at a time, quietly humming a tune under my breath. Small rocks crunched beneath my boots. Every once in a while one skipped ahead a few feet before settling in the dirt.

Liam lived just down the road, only a few hundred feet separated our homes. He was the Beta’s son, and we’d grown up side by side. Pack meetings, school field trips, games in the field. You rarely saw one of us without the other. He was my best friend.

We shared a birthday, just one year apart. In our pack, wolves began training at sixteen for the roles they were born to fill. Whether as warriors, cooks, medics, or something else entirely. With Beta blood in his veins, Liam started training the moment he turned sixteen. Tomorrow, I’d finally catch up as it was my sixteenth birthday. But truthfully, I’d already been training alongside him for months.

A firm hug pulled me from my thoughts and the untouched apple fell from my grip. I squirmed a little, awkwardly trying to pry Liam’s arms from around my shoulders. He was massive compared to my 5’3” frame, and sometimes I wondered if he hugged me just because he knew it made me anxious.

Once I shifted, he wouldn’t be able to get away with things like this. As the upcoming Alpha, I’d have power and strength that he would never know.

Liam was kind, funny, and genuine. People were drawn to him and of course, being easy on the eyes didn’t hurt. Over the years, rumors about us dating had swirled constantly. But to me, Liam had always felt more like a brother.

When he finally decided he’d tortured me enough, I weaseled my way out of his arms and stepped back. A wide, cartoonish grin stretched across his face, and it was almost impossible not to smile in return. His joy was contagious.

“Ready for training?” he asked. I nodded, and we continued down the road together.

Unlike Liam, I wasn’t exactly well liked. It wasn’t that I was unpleasant, just quiet and reserved. Once someone got close to me, I was easy enough to get along with, but not many people cared to try.

Because of my upbringing, I usually wore a sour expression on my face and kept to myself. The people others might call my friends only hovered around because of Liam. Some pretended to befriend me for my status in the pack, but those never lasted long. I didn’t need them. I didn’t really want them either. That was just fine by me.

After walking another half mile, we reached an open piece of land. Miles of terrain stretched ahead. Grassy fields, scattered boulders, thick forests, and a babbling river that wound through it all. Training usually started at 8:00 a.m. sharp, scheduled so it wouldn’t be too cold in the crisp fall mornings. Even still, frost had started to settle across the grass, and colored leaves such as red, orange, and yellow littered the ground. Each step crunched beneath our boots.

Many of the pack members were already here, stretching or preparing for whatever drills the day would bring. Once training began, everyone would be sorted into groups by age, rank, experience, or job title. Liam and I always trained together though, that’s how most pack dynamics worked for future alphas and betas.

A group of thirty or forty wolves approached us, mostly between the ages of sixteen and eighteen, waiting for their permanent job assignments. They were part of our regular training unit, and for the most part, I didn’t mind their company. But in every group, there’s always one.

Our one is Madisen. She was a few days older than me and practically ran the pack’s social scene. With her petite, carefully styled frame, platinum blonde hair, and icy blue eyes, she always looked like she belonged as a center fold, and she hated me. Specifically, she hated my relationship with Liam. Most of the rumors that floated around about us, or just about me, could be traced back to her perfectly glossed lips.

Madisen somehow managed to part the group, placing herself directly in front of Liam. Before saying a word, she cast a look of disapproval my way. Batting her long eyelashes, she purred, “Are you ready to partner up with someone who can actually challenge your skills today?” Liam didn’t miss a beat. “You’d have a better chance pulling Channing Tatum than pulling me.” Without giving her a second glance, he turned and started chatting with a few other pack members.

Madisen stood there blinking, caught somewhere between wounded pride and disbelief. Then she swiveled toward me. “Well,” she sniffed, eyes scanning me up and down, “looks like you finally found something decent to wear. Who took pity on you and gave you their hand-me-downs?” My fingers twitched, tempted to knock the smirk off her face. But I knew better than to throw the first punch. Especially with her. Not yet, at least. I rolled my eyes. “I’m just grateful someone with taste took pity on me. Unlike whoever looked at you and thought, ‘Yeah, close enough.’”