CHAPTER 7
1342 Words
(Jared POV)
Friday night at the pack house is buzzing. The large stone-and-cedar manor glows with warm light, filled with the scent of food, smoke from the hearth, and the electric hum of pack energy. The monthly run is a tradition—one I usually enjoy. But tonight, I’m on edge.
The common room is alive with chatter. Wolves of all ages mingle, eat, and prepare to shift. The elders sit in a circle near the fire, talking low and slow. Kids dart between legs, and somewhere in the distance, someone’s tuning a guitar. The pack is a family, one with structure, rules, and expectations. Tonight is a celebration—but also a ceremony.
I stand near the wide kitchen island, throwing together a sandwich. My mom walks in, her presence always grounding.
“Making a feast?” she asks with a soft smile.
“Just a snack,” I mutter.
She moves beside me, brushing her fingers along my shoulder gently. “You’ve been quiet today.”
I shrug. “Long week.”
She doesn’t push. Just stands there with me for a while. “You heading out for the run?”
“Yeah.”
She gives me a longer look. “Your father wants to speak with you first. About… plans.”
“Of course he does,” I sigh.
Minutes later, as I am walking towards my father’s office, a voice purrs behind me “Jared”.
Lyra sidles up close, too close. Her perfume—cloying and sharp—immediately floods my senses. "You look good tonight. Must be the Alpha in you coming out"
"It’s just a t-shirt, Lyra," I mutter, not looking at her.
She lets out a breathy laugh, brushing her arm against mine. "You know, a lot of people are expecting you to finally make a decision. About your future. About your mate."
I stiffen. "I’ve made decisions. Just not ones anyone wants to hear."
Her smile tightens and before she can retort, a voice calls from across the hall. My father.
I leave Lyra behind without another word and walk into his office. Jared Booth Senior—Alpha, father, master of disappointment. He sits behind his massive oak desk like it’s a throne, eyes stern.
“Jared.”
“Sir.”
He motions for me to sit. I remain standing.
“The elders are concerned. You're nearing adulthood, and the matter of your mate must be addressed.”
I clench my jaw. “I’ll find my mate when the time is right.”
He narrows his eyes. “We don’t always have the luxury of waiting. Lyra is a strong candidate. I saw you two talking just now. A union between you two would strengthen the pack.”
“I’m not interested in Lyra.”
“She’s interested in you.”
“I know. That’s part of the problem.”
His tone sharpens. “You’re not a boy anymore. This pack needs certainty, not daydreams. Your ‘friendship’ with the human is a liability. You cannot be yourself around her. There is no future there.”
“Kay is my friend,we have never crossed that boundary,” I grit out. “And even if we did, it’s none of your business.”
“It’s every bit my business if it affects your duties.”
I turn on my heel and leave before I say something I can’t take back.
By the time we gather outside, the moon is high. The energy is thick, humming beneath our skin. Clothes are folded, shoes kicked off, and one by one, we shift.
Shifting is easy. Too easy. My wolf bursts forward, silver fur catching the moonlight as I sprint into the woods with the rest of the pack. The wind rushes past. I feel alive. Free.
The forest embraces me.
Running sets my blood on fire, my muscles singing as I stretch out into my wolf form. My senses sharpen. The smells, the wind, the sound of paws drumming the earth—it’s a chorus. My wolf relished the freedom of the shift, though his mind kept drifting.
My wolf isn’t focused on the pack.
Where is she? he asked.
Home, I answered. Safe.
She should be with us. He growls
She’s human.
Without missing a beat my wolf states She is ours.
I shook the thought away and tried to keep pace. That’s when Lyra’s dark brown wolf appears at my flank, bumping me playfully before darting into the woods. I growl low and try to veer away, but she pursues, circling me like a storm.
She darts left. I follow—stupidly—thinking she’ll fall back in line. But she leads us farther from the others, toward the outskirts..
She led me off-path, deeper into the woods. I was about to turn back when I heard it—shoes slapping the dirt trail and rapid breaths, panic erupted in my chest. Lyra bolts ahead. I catch sight of Kay running on a trail, earbuds in, alone. She doesn't see the wolf leaping at her until it's too late.
My snarl tears through the trees. I slam into Lyra mid-air, sending her sprawling into the brush. Kay screams as she hits the dirt.
“RUN!” I try to will the words into the space between us, knowing she can’t hear them. Kay stumbled, turned, vanishing down the trail. I don’t follow. I turned on Lyra, bared my teeth, and stared her down. Her eyes were glowing with fury and madness.
When we return to the pack house, I shift back the second I pass the perimeter and storm inside. Lyra follows, smug despite the blood on her lip.
“What the hell were you thinking?!” I snap, pinning her with a glare. “You could have killed her.”
“She doesn’t belong here!” she hisses.
“She’s mine.”
Silence falls. She pales.
“You don’t mean that.”
I shove her out of my way and head toward my room. Mom tries to stop me, worry in her eyes.
“Not now,” I growl.
Inside my room, I pace like a caged animal. I grab my phone—finally—and see the message from Kay, sent earlier in the evening: Chose my school. Wanna go for a run? Need to clear my head.
But there’s nothing after.
I text her back:
Sorry, family thing. Great news! Wanna talk? Please don’t go running alone.
No response.
That night, sleep is impossible, I’m worried about Kay, pissed at Lyra, annoyed at my dad, confused by my wolf. My mind just can’t stop spinning, so I just stare at the ceiling and my phone, by Kay doesn’t text me back.
The next day passed in a haze. I couldn’t focus, couldn’t speak to anyone. I texted Jessa and arranged to meet her after she had gone dress shopping Kay.
“She’s okay,” Jessa told me as we stood outside the boutique. “Shaken, but not hurt badly. She won’t say what happened, though.”
“She shouldn’t have been there.”
“She’s strong, Jared. You know that.”
Still, I couldn’t shake the dread. Sunday, I avoided the pack, my parents, everyone. I had tried texting Kay all weekend, but she had given me the run around and brushed me off, which is not like her.
That night, I texted her again. I am getting desperate: I’ll drive us tomorrow? I wanna see you. Please.”
Her reply came a few minutes later: "K"
I stared at the single letter, heart heavy. I couldn’t take it anymore.
I shifted, silent as a shadow, and made my way to the edge of her backyard. I sat in the trees, watching her bedroom window, waiting.
She is ours, my wolf whispered again.
No, I told him. She’s human.
And still ours.
I looked up at her window, longing clawing at my chest.
I wasn’t sure what scared me more: losing her—or believing my wolf might be right.
- Writer
