Ch. 15 The Shift
699 Words
Something was wrong with the air.
It was too still. Too bright. Too loud.
Byron sat at the edge of the training field, a towel around his neck and sweat drying on his skin. His heartbeat hadn’t slowed since he woke up. Everything irritated him—the voices, the wind, the smell of meat from the kitchen.
He hadn’t eaten. Couldn’t.
He knew what was coming. Two weeks ago, his 16th birthday had passed without fanfare, so he knew it was going to happen soon. His instincts were calling to him, but his body was unsure what he was supposed to do.
He had hidden clothes and blankets in different spots on the island, knowing that it could happen any day, but nothing changed. Each day, the tension in his body coiled a little bit more.
Once he finished training, he crossed the yard behind the garden shed and heard sharp voices. He paused instinctively, half-hidden behind a wall of firewood.
It was Xochi.
“He’s everywhere, Amber. I can’t take a breath without Brandon watching me.” Her voice trembled, not in fear, but in frustration. Exhaustion. Amber’s reply came soft—and then sharp as a blade.
“You don’t seem to understand how lucky you are. He’s the Alpha’s son. You were chosen. This entire pack is counting on you.”
“I never asked for that!”
His mother paused. And then her voice turned cold and cruel.
“If you don’t want him, I can sell you to the Barlow Pack. They’ve been asking for breeding bitches.”
Byron’s stomach dropped.
His hands curled into tight fists, squeezing until his knuckles went white.
He didn’t remember running into the woods.
He only remembered the pressure in his chest, the ringing in his ears, the way the trees bent around him like they were moving too fast, or he was.
And then the pain hit.
It tore through him—every bone, every nerve, every part of him that was boy broke open.
His knees hit the ground.
His mouth split into a howl.
His body folded forward and then stretched, too far, too much, until the world burned white—
☽
And then he was on four legs. The forest went quiet. And he could smell everything.
He could smell her.
Xochi.
Her scent hit him like gravity, like moonlight through storm clouds, like everything he’d ever wanted and never thought he could have.
She’s mine.
Not in the way Brandon said it. Not in the way Amber had planned it. But in the way the earth claimed rain. The way the sky claimed stars.
His heart stuttered in his chest.
She’s mine.
He paced the island, finding her scent along pathways and on the beach. Basking in the little bits of her she didn’t know she left behind.
He shifted back hours later, trembling, naked, shaking in the underbrush with nothing but a blanket he’d hidden weeks ago.
His hands didn’t feel like his own. His breath came in gasps. And through it all, the knowledge echoed inside him.
She’s mine. She’s mine. She’s mine.
And then the fear followed. He remembered his mother’s voice.
Breeding bitches.
☽
The quiet compliance of the elders. The way Mira bowed her head around Brandon now.
The false story being written, rehearsed, and already believed.
He was sure they would never accept him as Alpha. They would never accept Xochi being his. Even if he said it out loud, they wouldn’t believe him.
If he tried to claim her, they’d hurt her. This mother would see to it.
Maybe not in the open.
But he’d seen what his mother could do in the dark.
Maybe it’s a mistake, he thought. Maybe it’s temporary.
Maybe the Moon Goddess got it wrong.
Maybe he would wake up tomorrow, and wouldn’t feel it anymore. But even as he told himself that, his chest ached.
He didn’t feel like an Alpha in that moment. He didn’t tell anyone he shifted. He went back to the house. Ate in silence. Sat beside Brandon at dinner and said nothing. He wouldn’t dare look at Xochi.
She’s mine.
And he couldn’t protect her.
- Writer
