Destined for the Alpha

Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

Sunrise bathes the forest in a golden hue, its warm fingers unable to penetrate the cold dread that has settled in my stomach. The task list for the day is posted on the old oak that serves as our communal message board. I approach it with a reluctance that weighs heavy on my shoulders, scanning the parchment until I find my name. Berry patch scouting. A shiver runs through me at the thought of venturing out there again, alone.

"Grace?" Lucas' voice is soft behind me, and even without turning, I can picture the concern etched between his brows, those deep green eyes searching for mine.

"Berry patch scouting," I murmur, trying to keep my voice steady. I don't want him to know how much the assignment unnerves me. "Sounds delightful, doesn't it?"

"Hey, it's important," he insists, stepping beside me. His proximity sends an unfamiliar warmth dancing across my skin. "Without berries, we'd have no pies, no jams..." His words trail off as he catches the look in my eyes, the silent confession of my fears. With a gentle nudge, he adds, "I could talk to the Elder. Get you reassigned."

My heart clenches at the kindness in his offer, but pride swells within me, pushing back against the fear. "No, I'll do it." My voice is firmer now, more convincing. "But thank you, Lucas."

"Grace, you're braver than you give yourself credit for," he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice, see it in the crinkles by his eyes. "But if you're worried about the strange wolf..."

"I am," I admit, my gaze dropping to my hands. They feel so small, so incapable. I'm no match for a wolf, especially not in human form. "Last time was too close."

"Then take this." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, bronze whistle. "If you run into trouble, just use it. I'll come running."

"Lucas, I can't ask you to—"

"You didn't ask, I offered." His fingers brush against mine as he presses the whistle into my palm. "Promise me you'll use it if you need to."

"Okay," I whisper, the weight of the whistle both a comfort and a reminder of my own perceived weaknesses. "I promise."

"Good." He steps back, giving me a reassuring nod. "And Grace? You're stronger than you think. Remember that."

Watching him walk away, my hand closes around the whistle. Stronger than I think... But doubts, like shadows, are difficult to shake. I turn towards the forest, the dense trees hiding secrets and possible dangers. The unknown of the woods beckons me with the allure of the untamed, yet the memory of glowing eyes from my last encounter sends a tremor through me.

The berry patch won't scout itself, and I must face what lies ahead, armed with nothing but a whistle and the faltering belief that perhaps, just perhaps, I might be more than the weakest link in the pack.

I’m about to step into the woods when they arrive: those who have been against me since we were young pups.

"Come on, little Grace," Derek and his friends sneer, the taunts cutting through the crisp morning air like shards of ice. "Scared you'll trip over a twig and cry for mommy?"

I clench my fists, biting back the retort that itches at my tongue. I'm orphaned; their words are not just mockery but salt on an open wound. My pack mates circle around me, a relentless tide of jeers and snickers. Their forms blur in my vision, a mix of human and wolf as some shift to emphasize their prowess – something I've never been able to do.

"Leave her be!" The command comes sharp and clear, slicing through the mockery. Lucas stands there, his stance commanding, his eyes sparking with unspoken fury. The pack quiets, their tails between their legs, but their smirks don't fade entirely.

"Thanks, Lucas," I mumble, feeling the flush of embarrassment more than gratitude. It's one thing to be seen as weak, another entirely to have your crush defend you before the very pack members who expect you to fail.

"Grace." His voice is softer now, for my ears only. "Ignore them. You know what you're capable of."

"Capable of being bait, maybe," I mutter under my breath, the sting of inadequacy a familiar burn in my chest.

"Stop," he says, a gentle admonishment. "You're brave, stronger than those who need others to feel powerful. Don't let them define you."

I nod, but his words feel like trying to hold sunlight—warm but impossible to grasp. He gives me a small, encouraging smile, and then he's gone, leaving me to face the forest path alone.

The woods loom ahead, the darkness beneath the canopy both an invitation and a threat. I take a tentative step forward, my heart racing. The brambles seem to whisper secrets, the leaves rustling as if to speak of hidden dangers. I can almost feel the weight of unseen eyes upon me.

"Focus, Grace," I breathe out, forcing myself to remember the lay of the land from previous excursions. The berry patch isn't far, but in these woods, distance is deceptive and every shadow could harbor a nightmare—or a rival wolf.

"Stupid berries," I mutter, allowing a wry smile to touch my lips. It's the task no one wants, given to the member deemed least consequential. But today, it feels like a trial by fire, a chance to prove—to myself if no one else—that I am not just the runt of the litter.

The further I venture, the quieter the world becomes, until it's just the sound of my own footsteps and the beat of my heart pounding against my ribcage. I find the berry patch, a swath of vibrant reds and purples nestled among the thorns.

"Okay, Grace," I whisper, my words a talisman against the silence. "Time to be more than they think you are."

As I begin to scout, the sounds of the pack's scorn fade, replaced by the rustling of leaves and the soft thud of berries dropping into my basket. It's peaceful here, in a way the pack's den never is—a sanctuary from expectations and disappointments.

"Maybe you're meant for more than this," I say to the trees, my voice blending with the whispers of the forest. The thought is daring, dangerous even, but it takes root in my heart, a seed of hope in the wild soil of my fears.

"More than a scout, more than weak," I continue, the words gaining strength. "One day, they'll see. One day, I'll show them all."

And for a few precious moments, amidst the thorns and blooms, I believe it. Until the hair rises on the back of my neck and I hear the sound of heavy paws on the earth.

I don’t need to turn around to know what’s happening: it’s the strange wolf.

He’s come back for me.