Outside The Pack

4

“Yeah. Right.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder and continued.

I sighed and plunged the pot into the sink. I filled it with dish soap and water as hot as I could stand. As the pot filled with suds, I ran the back of my hand over my forehead. Most of the pack was anti-human. Though the Kings relied on some human goods, like dish soap, in their daily lives, shifters tended to be very private and avoided humans as much as they could due to conflicts the two species had endured hundreds of years ago.

That distaste for humans was largely due to the Redwolfs, the Alpha family of the pack. Troy, for one, did everything he could to make me feel unwelcome. Even when we were children, he had it out for me. I’d thought long and hard about what I had done to make him hate me so much; ultimately, I knew there was nothing I could have changed to make him leave me alone. Because I was human, because I was weak, because I wouldn’t have a voice in the pack—I was an easy target. Wolves had a strong prey drive, and even I had to admit that everything about me screamed, “prey.”

Troy’s father, Gregor Redwolf, was marginally better. Though the Alpha hated humans, his misogyny made it difficult for him to take women seriously—thus, he largely ignored me. While Gregor was Alpha, I didn’t have to look over my shoulder constantly, and I could get away with avoiding Troy like the scourge he was. If Troy became the Alpha, I wouldn’t have that luxury.

I had been thinking about the Alpha more and more frequently these days because he had fallen ill. It wasn’t the first time Gregor had been sick, but he was much older now, and defending the pack had undoubtedly put a lot of stress on his body. In addition to my dreams of the dark stranger, I had nightmares about Troy taking over the Kings’ pack. The nightmares always ended with my death.

I shook my head and picked up a sponge, plunging it deep into the hot, sudsy water. I shouldn’t think about that possibility. The Alpha was old, sure, but he was resilient. He’d pull through like he always did, and I wouldn’t have to worry about Troy’s harassment. He’ll continue to ignore me, and things will be the same. I won’t have to do anything extra to protect myself from Troy…

When I’d finished scrubbing the pot to a mirror-like shine, I returned to the table by my mom, who greeted me with a smile. The tables were old wood, well waxed and smooth beneath my touch. There were more wolves standing in line for their breakfast. The Kings accepted their oatmeal from me without making eye contact, which was nothing like the way they greeted the other women—with smiles and brief conversation. But after years of the same treatment, it didn’t bother me nearly as much as it used to.

My thoughts drifted to last night’s dream, back to the green-eyed stranger who’d rocked my world. My cheeks warmed when I thought about how his hands had felt on my skin. If he were real, would he treat me the same even though I was human? Would he open his arms to me? The fantasy of being somewhere safe, of being accepted, put a small smile on my face as I worked.

Suddenly, a woman burst in from outside, the same one who had been carrying the fabric napkins. She still smelled of cigarette smoke. Her face had gone pale, and her mouth was a trembling line. I didn’t need the elevated senses of a wolf to see how hard she was shaking or to clock the way her eyes darted from face to face until they finally settled on my mom.

“What’s wrong?” Mom asked as the woman approached.

“It’s the Alpha,” she whispered.

I froze, staring openly at the woman.

Mom’s face grew still. She placed her hands on the woman’s shoulders and squeezed until the woman’s wavering gaze focused. “What about him?”

“He…he passed away in his sleep last night,” she said. “He’s dead.”

He’s dead…he’s dead… The words echoed in my mind. In my head, I pictured myself surrounded by wolves who jeered and spat at me the way they’d done when I was younger. I pictured myself cast out of the pack. My mom left to stand on the sidelines and watch while Troy exiled me to the wilds. My stomach roiled, and the world seemed to spin. Those two words spelled my doom.

2

BRYN

I gripped the table’s edge and steeled myself against the onslaught of emotion. Nobody was paying attention to me anyway. As word spread, concerned murmuring filled the dining hall. It was too much too soon. Without a word to my mother, I exited out the same door the woman had come through for some cool, fresh air.

By this time, the sun had begun to crest over the horizon, filling the sky with gold and casting the clouds in amethyst and sapphire. Below the stunning sunrise, emerald leaves and dark blue tree trunks extended for miles in front of me. I normally would have taken a moment to enjoy the magnificent sight, but I couldn’t focus on that now. Outside of the shade provided by the mess hall, the pack was abuzz with chatter and movement.

Wolves zipped from building to building with the Alpha’s name on their lips. I pressed my back to the building, slid down to a crouch, and held my head in my hands. I took a few deep breaths, inhaling cool air and exhaling steam as I collected myself.

Gregor’s dead, but this doesn’t have to be the end, I counseled myself. Troy isn’t Alpha yet. But it was cold comfort—he would be Alpha soon. After an Alpha died, the pack would enter a five-day mourning period. Every day of this period included a celebration, and a challenge ceremony would take place on the last night.

The right to be Alpha was passed down genetically from father to son, but during the challenge ceremony, any wolf who wanted to try for the position would enter a fight to the death with the Alpha’s son. If the Alpha had no sons, the beta would host the challenge and claim the mantle if he was undefeated or unchallenged. Nowadays, challenges were usually hosted as a formality. They were generally treated as another opportunity for everyone to take a break from work and remember the deceased Alpha. Or at least, that was what Mom said—this would be my first time experiencing such a celebration.

I counted the days before the challenge ceremony, and my blood went cold. My twentieth birthday was the day after the ceremony.

The twentieth birthday for a shifter was a pretty big deal. Twenty was considered the age when wolves were old enough to mate and form a permanent bond with another shifter, and from what I had learned and read about in school, female shifters bonded with the male shifter who took her virginity. So, female shifters were restricted to only ever having one mate.

I’ve spent my whole life looking forward to my twentieth birthday, only for it to be ruined by Troy becoming Alpha. What’s worse is that I know he’ll do everything in his power to make me even more miserable. As this thought came to me, a void began to open in my chest.

I had always hoped that by my twentieth birthday, I would have found acceptance, friends, or happiness—anything to cut down on the pain of being the black sheep of the Kings’ pack. I’d thought that my cynical side would have crushed that hope, but it had remained until now. So, there was no way I could suppress the darkness that filled my chest as I considered my upcoming birthday. After all, what shifter would want to be with a weak human?