Never Free

Ch. 9 The Lie

Since his birthday, Brandon had been feeling slightly strange. Instinct had told him to hide some clothes by the old well near his house, away from everyone, but he didn't know why.

For the last year, he had been desperately waiting for the day he shifted, and when it happened, it was as unexpected as snow in July.

He had just woken up and was on his way to the training field. The air had a sharp wintery bite, and he could see his breath cloud in front of his face. That's when he began to feel it.

It started in his fingertips.

A strange prickling—heat blooming under his skin, then curling up his spine like a fuse had been lit. His vision blurred. His lungs felt too big for his chest.

It’s happening, he thought.

He was alone, outside, between the buildings, the snow crunching under his boots as he staggered into the trees.

Then the pain hit.

His knees buckled. He hit the ground, choking on a scream. His bones cracked like thunder. Skin pulled, reshaped, snapped into something other.

His last thought before it overtook him was simple, finally.

The world looked different as a wolf. Clearer. Sharper. Wilder.

His senses expanded. Every snowflake shimmered in the moonlight. Every sound echoed with perfect clarity. And his body—stronger than it had ever been.

He howled, loud and full.

This is what it means to be Alpha, he told himself.

He turned toward his house. His paws gripping the snow beneath him, his breath puffing hard out of him.

His only goal was to find her. To confirm what he had been told since he was young. To take his place as leader.

Now it begins.

He padded back through the snow, still half-drunk on power, paws silent as breath. When he shifted back—bare skin steaming in the cold—he pulled on the change of clothes he’d hidden behind the old well and walked inside through the front door.

His mother was already waiting, sitting with a grin on the grey upholstered chair in the sitting room.

“You did it!” she gasped, running to him. “Brandon, you shifted!” She clutched his face in both hands, eyes full of pride—and expectation. He smiled back at her and nodded. His mother was looking at his like he was perfect and he felt the strongest under her beaming pride than at any other time.

“Did you feel her?” she whispered. “Did you feel the bond?” Her sudden question forced his thoughts to crash against his skull.

His mother had forced Xochi back into the house about a week prior, and had even given her her old room back. She said that it was so Xochi would be near when Brandon finally shifted.

He had tolerated the change because he knew his feelings for her would change when he finally shifted. At least, that's what he was told.

And then Xochi stepped into the room from the direction of the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel.

Brandon turned. His heart pounded.

She stood in the doorway, calm, watching. Her brows knit together, trying to understand what she had walked in on.

He waited for the pull.

Waited for the tether, the chemical rush, the impossible-to-ignore truth.

Nothing.

No spark. No connection. Just silence.

No... no, no, no…

He was supposed to feel something. Instead, Brandon just felt the same disgust he always felt when he looked at her.

How was he going to explain this to his mother? Oh, sweet goddess, she’d blame him. Say that his dislike of Xochi caused this. She would treat him like Byron, or worse. Like Xochi.

She wouldn't make him the Alpha.

He couldn't let that happen.

He forced his body to move.

He jerked as if struck by her presence. Took a step forward, breathing hard like he’d just been hit with something too big to hold.

“Xochi,” he breathed, voice catching.

She blinked at him, confused. Once the realization of what was happening hit her, her eyes went wide as she took a step back, dropping the towel she held.

Of course, she didn’t feel anything. She hadn’t shifted yet.

Amber gasped behind him.

“There it is,” she whispered. “She’s yours. I told you.”

Brandon stepped forward slowly, never taking his eyes off Xochi.

“Yeah,” he said. “I feel it.”

“B-Brandon…” Xochi whispered, putting one hand up, trying to stop him from coming closer to her.

It didn't deter him. He continued to press forward until her back was against a wall. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her.

Xochi stiffened under his touch like a plank. He pressed his face into the crook of her neck and inhaled.

Behind him, he heard his mother squeal with joy.

“I have to go tell everyone,” she beamed before zooming out the front door.

Brandon pulled away from Xochi and looked at her. The surprise had vanished, and was replaced with anger, but she didn't say anything to him.

She shoved him away from her and walked out of the room.

Brandon's stomach knotted.

He spent the rest of the day wrapped in congratulations.

Amber was radiant, glowing with purpose. Brandon smiled where he needed to, accepted praise with grace, laughed when expected.

But his hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

That night, he stood alone facing the ocean. The moon's reflection shimmered on the quiet waves.

He didn’t look different. But something inside him had cracked.

“She’s not mine,” he whispered to the dark.

And the truth hollowed something out in his chest.

Because if Xochi wasn’t his Mate… then who was?

And if he wasn’t meant for her—what was he even meant to be?