Saving Emma: A Werewolf Mafia Romance

Emma “Don’t forget about me, Emma,” Declan’s voice echoed in my ears, pulling me violently out of sleep once again. I bolted upright, my chest heaving, my skin damp with sweat. For three years, this dream haunted me—Declan, a man who didn’t exist outside my imagination yet felt so real it hurt. I kept a journal, pouring every detail into its pages, wondering if my mind was playing tricks on me. Was Declan a figment of my imagination, or was there something deeper to it? The question clawed at me, night after night. In contrast, my waking life was bleak, a far cry from the surreal intensity of my dreams. Being born into a low-ranking family in our pack was a curse that hung over me like a storm cloud. Submission was expected of me, ingrained in my nature, and I despised it with every fiber of my being. Every confrontation felt like a trap, and I walked away more often than not, swallowing my anger to avoid stepping out of line. It wasn’t easy. It never was. But this was the hand life had dealt me. My family was a patchwork of love and hardship. Four brothers who tried their best, a mother drowning in depression, and a father whose gambling debts often left us scrambling. They loved me as much as they could, in their flawed, imperfect ways, and I learned early not to ask for too much. Asking always led to disappointment, and I had no space for more of that in my life. Still, life wasn’t entirely grim. Tomas Jefferson, the eldest son of the beta family, had been my boyfriend for four years. Being with him was complicated, not just because of who he was but because of who I wasn’t. People whispered behind our backs, claiming Tomas could do better, that I wasn’t worthy of someone like him. But Tomas never let their words get to him. He silenced them with his steadfast devotion to me, proving again and again that his love was real. And yet, I couldn’t stop my mind from drifting to Declan, the mysterious man from my dreams. Comparing Tomas to him felt unfair, even wrong, but sometimes I couldn’t help myself. Declan felt impossibly perfect, almost unreal, and perhaps that’s why he existed only in my dreams. He was a fantasy I would never share with anyone—except Heather, my best friend. Even with her, I barely spoke of him, fearing that living in a dream world might paint me as foolish or delusional. That morning, as sunlight filtered through the curtains, I shook off the remnants of the dream and reached for my phone. For two weeks, Tomas had been avoiding me, and I was at my wit’s end. Worry gnawed at my stomach like a persistent ache. I had heard from Heather that he’d been seen around, but she, like me, was from a low-ranking family and dared not approach him to ask why he’d disappeared. In our pack, hierarchy was everything, and stepping out of place could mean punishment. I couldn’t simply walk up to the beta’s house demanding answers. Tomas had to invite me in, or I couldn’t go at all. With a deep breath, I dialed his number, expecting it to go to voicemail as it had countless times before. To my shock, he picked up on the first ring. My heart stuttered as I heard his smooth, familiar voice. “Emma, are you alright?” he asked, his tone calm and steady. “Tomas,” I breathed, relief and frustration mingling in my chest. “Two weeks. Why?” He sighed, a soft sound that made my stomach twist. “I’ll come see you as soon as I can, Emma,” he said. Before I could press him further, I heard a voice in the background—a friend, urging him to hurry—and then the line went dead. I sat there, staring at the phone in my hand, my emotions a tangled mess of confusion and hurt. What was Tomas doing? Why was he keeping me at arm’s length? Six months ago, something had shifted between us. I thought we were finding our way back to each other, but now it felt like he was slipping through my fingers. I had hoped, foolishly perhaps, that he would have proposed by now. But every time I asked him about our future, he dodged the question, leaving me with more uncertainty than answers. After showering, I tried to focus on the day ahead. I had an interview that afternoon, another attempt at finding a job. But my mind kept circling back to Tomas. His behavior was unfair, and I was done making excuses for him. No matter how busy he was, disappearing for weeks without explanation wasn’t right. I was tired of waiting. Tired of feeling like I was clinging to something that wasn’t moving forward. We had been together for four years—four long years—and still, we were stuck in this limbo. Most of the couples who started dating when we did were already married, some with children. I was twenty-three now, and the weight of the years we’d spent together without progress pressed heavily on my heart. People whispered about us, of course. They always did. Some claimed I was trying to climb the social ladder, using Tomas to raise my family’s status. Others said I wasn’t good enough for him, that he deserved someone of his own rank. But I never let their words touch me. Tomas loved me, and I loved him—at least, I thought I did. But then there was Declan, the man from my dreams, a shadow lingering on the edges of my thoughts. And I couldn’t shake the feeling that my heart was being pulled in two different directions—one toward reality, and the other toward a dream I couldn’t let go. In our pack, the Alpha and his family were untouchable, perched high atop the social pyramid of our pack, their wealth and influence forming an impenetrable barrier between them and the rest of us. To the higher families, the lower class was nothing more than background noise, insignificant and disposable. We were bred to be submissive, to bow without question, and most of us lived in quiet fear, careful never to step out of line. My mother used to tell me, “A leader is nothing without their followers.” She believed, naively perhaps, that one day the higher breeds would realize how much they relied on us. I didn’t share her optimism.