Eighteen
1634 Words
Savannah’s POV
The house was too quiet when I got back.
No surprise there. Dad hadn’t even looked at me when I passed him in the hallway, just muttered something about “locking up” before disappearing into his office like he always did.
Fine.
It gave me space to think.
Or, more accurately, space to not think while pretending I was.
I kicked off my boots by the stairs, dragged myself up to the bathroom, and started the water in the tub. Hot. Too hot. Just the way I liked it.
Steam bloomed across the mirror like a ghost trying to hide my reflection.
I didn’t fight it.
I slid into the bath and let the heat bite at my skin. My muscles sighed. My bones stopped buzzing. My mind didn’t.
Their words still echoed in my ears.
You don’t have to be alone.
We just want you to survive.
Damn them.
Damn them for seeing too much.
Damn them for being gentle.
Damn them for talking to my father like they had a right to care when I barely tolerated the man.
Jace’s voice had been calm, low, full of control. Rowan’s had been soft, like he could wrap me in safety if I let him. Luca’s? Luca’s had been edged with something sharper. Understanding. Not pity. Not quite.
It would’ve been easier if they’d looked at me like I was broken.
But they didn’t.
They looked at me like I was theirs.
And that? That terrified me more than my shift ever could.
I leaned back against the tub’s edge, letting the heat creep into my bones, and tried to convince myself of the same lie I’d been living since I arrived.
I’ll be fine.
I don’t need anyone. I don’t want anyone. The triplets were wrong. My wolf would come out just like me cold, sharp, and capable. I didn’t need lanterns in trees or silver necklaces or gentle promises whispered in the dark.
I just needed to shift.
And then?
Then I’d leave. Go back to the city. Finish what I started. Find him.
The man who ruined me.
The boy with the monster inside.
The one who earned my revenge.
That’s what I was here for. That’s what my wolf would be born for. Not love. Not healing.
Vengeance.
Still…
They’d gone to my father.
They’d planned something.
And that meant on some level I hadn’t.
Not really.
I hadn’t even thought about where it would happen. What I would do after. How I’d feel, standing in my own skin for the first time with claws in my hands and instincts under my ribs.
I hadn’t thought past the pain.
Not until they forced me to.
And I hated that.
Because… maybe I needed it.
Maybe I needed them.
No. No, not needed. Just noticed.
That’s all.
I sank lower into the water, let the heat cover me like a shield.
For tonight, I didn’t have to be strong.
I didn’t have to be ready.
I could just float.
Silent.
Still.
Alone.
Savannah’s POV
The night dragged like it owed me something.
Sleep came in slices too thin to hold onto, too jagged to rest in. My sheets were tangled, my skin too warm, my thoughts too loud. When the sun finally started smudging the horizon, I gave up.
My body moved before I could stop it. Silent. Tense. Feet padding over cold floorboards. I didn’t mean to go downstairs.
But today, I was eighteen.
The day everything was supposed to change.
I thought I’d feel… different.
Older. Stronger. Less cracked.
But I didn’t.
No fanfare. No inner glow. No voice in my head whispering happy birthday, wolf girl.
Just me. Just my skin. Just the usual aching silence.
I walked into the kitchen, expecting nothing.
But my father was there.
He was dressed down still sharp but softer than usual. Jeans. A simple black tee. Boots unlaced at the ankle like he hadn’t quite finished dressing. He had a mug in his hand and a look on his face. I didn’t know what to do with.
Somber.
Thoughtful.
Almost… lost.
On the table was a single card.
I stopped in the doorway, unsure if I should speak.
He looked up, met my eyes, and for a moment, neither of us said anything.
Then he cleared his throat. “Happy birthday.”
I nodded. “Thanks.”
My voice was hoarse. I hated that.
He gestured to the table. “It’s not much.”
I stared at the card. Plain white envelope. My name scrawled in his unmistakable blocky handwriting.
It felt heavy. It might explode if I opened it wrong.
“You didn’t have to,” I said.
“I know,” he replied. “That’s why I did.”
That silenced me.
I walked over, picked up the card, and turned it over in my hands like it might have answers. It didn’t. It's just a quiet kind of weight.
“I thought I’d wake up and feel… different,” I admitted, eyes still on the envelope. “But I don’t.”
He sipped his coffee. “Me neither. The day you were born, I mean.”
I blinked. That was… honest.
He kept talking. “I thought the second I held you, I’d know what the hell I was doing. I didn’t. Still don’t. But I’ve tried.”
I looked up.
He didn’t flinch. Didn’t lie.
Just let it hang there.
I almost thanked him. But the words got stuck.
Instead, I pulled the card open.
Inside was no glitter, no cheesy message. Just a simple line in his heavy hand:
"No matter the shift, you are still you."
And beneath that, smaller:
"I’m proud of the fighter you are."
Something in my chest shifted. Just a little. Not enough to crumble me. But enough to feel it.
“I’ve arranged the clearing,” he said. “Like they suggested. Triplets’ll be nearby. I’ll be further out. Just in case.”
I nodded.
Still holding the card, I poured my coffee and sat across from him in silence.
For once, it wasn’t uncomfortable.
We didn’t say much.
We didn’t have to.
Because today, I would meet my wolf.
And whether she loved me or hated me, Tonight, I wouldn’t be alone.
I spent most of the day pretending I wasn’t waiting for something.
For them.
For it.
For the sky to darken and the pain to begin.
The card from my dad sat on my nightstand. I hadn’t moved it. I couldn’t. His words lingered like smoke No matter the shift, you are still you. What if I didn’t want to be me?
What if my wolf didn’t want to be me either?
I was halfway through pacing a trench into my bedroom floor when the knock came. Not a tap. Not aggressive. Just… firm. Like they knew, I already knew who it was.
I opened the door to three wolves in human skin standing on my porch.
And a cake.
Of all things, a cake.
White frosting. Neatly boxed. Carefully carried.
“We brought sugar,” Luca said with a smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes. “Seems like the polite thing to do.”
Rowan added, “Also, a distraction.”
“And support,” Jace said. “We’re not leaving until you head out tonight.”
I stared at them, unimpressed. “What is this? The soft side of the alphas?”
Luca shrugged. “Only for you.”
The honesty in that disarmed me more than I wanted it to.
“Fine,” I muttered, stepping aside. “But no weird speeches or sniffing me like I’m dinner.”
They moved past me warm, large, and careful with their presence like they knew I’d bolt if they breathed wrong. I hated how much I noticed them. Not just their looks, though, come on, it was absurd how good they looked in black tees and broad shoulders but the feel of them.
Like the air shifted just to make room for them.
And for me.
We ended up in the kitchen, of all places, like this was some normal afternoon and not the cusp of my first shift. Rowan lit the candles without asking. Jace handed me a fork without words. Luca watched me like I was a story he hadn’t figured out yet.
I didn’t want to blow out the candles.
But I did.
Because if they were trying, I could try too.
“I know tonight’s a lot,” Rowan said gently.
“You think?”
Jace leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “We’re not here to fix it. Just to be close enough.”
That word close it cracked something in my chest.
Luca stepped forward, slow and deliberate, then paused just a breath away from touching my arm. His hand hovered. Heat radiated from him.
“I want to,” he said quietly. “Touch you.”
I looked at him, lips pressed tight.
“But I won’t,” he added, voice rough. “Not until your wolf says it’s safe.”
Jace’s jaw ticked. I could feel the way he fought the same urge reach, claim, comfort.
Rowan’s wolf was the loudest. I could sense it scratching behind his calm, holding him on a knife’s edge. His gaze flicked to my collarbone, then away.
“I don’t need protectors,” I whispered.
“Too bad,” Jace said. “You got three.”
The heat of them, the want of them, the ache of what might be it swelled inside me, nearly choking.
But they kept their distance.
Because they knew.
Because they felt it too.
That I was vulnerable.
And this wasn’t the time to ask for more than I could give.
Not yet.
- Writer
