Chapter 3 New Beginnings

The human town of Willow Creek was a world away from everything Lila had ever known. No pack members roaming the streets, no Alpha dominance hanging heavy in the air-just normal, everyday people going about their lives. For someone like Lila, it was both a blessing and a curse.

The small apartment she rented above the town's bakery smelled constantly of warm bread and cinnamon. It was humble but cozy, and it suited her just fine.

Lila had arrived in Willow Creek with almost nothing, just the few things she'd packed and a will to survive. At first, she didn't know where to start. The humans here didn't know who she was, didn't care about her reputation back in the pack. She liked that. It gave her the space she needed to figure things out.

Months passed, and with each day, Lila adapted to her new life. When her son was born, it felt as though the entire world had shifted.

She named him Ryker, a name strong enough for the boy she'd been told might never exist. The moment she held him in her arms, tiny and fragile, she felt an overwhelming wave of emotions she couldn't explain.

"You're everything to me now," she whispered to the squirming bundle. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but they weren't from sadness this time. "We're in this together, baby. Just you and me."

Ryker didn't cry much, even as a newborn. Lila couldn't figure out if that was normal or not, but she didn't question it too deeply. He had a calmness about him that seemed almost unearthly, even as an infant.

As the years went by, Lila found a sense of purpose in her work. Back in her pack, her skills as an herbalist had been dismissed as outdated or unnecessary, but here in Willow Creek, they were in high demand.

It started small-a few neighbors asking her advice about minor ailments. She shared simple remedies at first, things she'd learned from her mother. But word spread quickly, and before she knew it, people were coming to her door asking for her help.

"Lila," Mrs. Henson, the bakery owner, called one morning, her apron dusted with flour. "Could you take a look at my daughter? She's been coughing something terrible these past few days."

"Of course," Lila said, setting aside the herbs she'd been sorting. She followed Mrs. Henson upstairs, where a little girl with red cheeks and tired eyes lay curled up in bed.

Lila touched the girl's forehead gently, noting the warmth beneath her hand. "It's a fever," she said, glancing back at Mrs. Henson. "Nothing to worry about. I'll make a tea that should help."

The grateful look on Mrs. Henson's face was all the encouragement Lila needed.

Her herbal remedies grew more popular over time, and soon she had a steady flow of customers. She set up a small space in the corner of her apartment where she mixed and prepared her blends. Bottles and jars lined the shelves, each one carefully labeled with handwritten notes.

The work was fulfilling, but it wasn't without its challenges. There were days when she felt the weight of single motherhood pressing down on her shoulders. She wanted to give Ryker everything, but the realities of life sometimes felt overwhelming.

Ryker, however, was her greatest joy. From the moment he took his first steps, she knew he wasn't like other children. He was stronger than he should have been, faster too. At two years old, he could lift things no toddler should've been able to budge, and by three, he could outrun most of the older kids in the town square.

At first, Lila thought it might just be her imagination. But as the incidents added up, she realized the truth: Ryker had inherited traits from his father-traits she hadn't anticipated.

One afternoon, while playing in the backyard of their building, Ryker pushed an old cart that had been sitting there for years. The thing was rusted and heavy, yet he shoved it aside as though it weighed nothing.

"Ryker!" Lila called, rushing to his side. Her heart pounded in her chest as she knelt down in front of him. "Where did you learn to do that?"

The boy looked at her with wide, innocent eyes. "It was in the way, Mama."

Her stomach churned. She cupped his face in her hands, trying to keep her voice steady. "Listen to me, sweetheart. You can't do things like that, okay? Not where people can see you."

"Why not?" Ryker tilted his head, confused.

"It's... complicated," Lila said. How could she explain something she barely understood herself? "Just promise me, Ryker. Don't do anything too... strong around other people. Can you do that for Mama?"

He nodded slowly, though she could see the curiosity in his eyes.

The fear of someone discovering Ryker's abilities haunted her, but she didn't let it show. Instead, she focused on keeping him happy and safe. She filled their days with small adventures-picnics by the creek, walks through the forest where she gathered her herbs, and bedtime stories about brave heroes who found their own strength.

Despite her worries, she couldn't help but marvel at her son. He was kind, always quick to help others, and endlessly curious about the world around him.

"Mama," he asked one night as she tucked him into bed, "why don't I have a papa like the other kids?"

Lila froze for a moment, her hand resting on his blanket. The question hit her like a punch to the gut, but she forced herself to smile.

"You have me, Ryker," she said softly. "And that's enough, isn't it?"

Ryker seemed to think about it before nodding. "Yeah. I guess it is."

Her chest ached as she kissed his forehead, guilt weighing heavily on her. She wanted to tell him the truth, but how could she? How could she explain something she didn't fully understand herself?

As the seasons changed, so did Lila. The shy, uncertain woman who had arrived in Willow Creek was growing into someone stronger. She still carried the scars of her past, but she was learning to live with them instead of letting them define her.

The people of the town treated her with kindness and respect, a far cry from what she'd experienced in the pack. For the first time in years, she felt like she belonged.

But deep down, she knew her peace wouldn't last forever. The truth about Ryker-about who he was and where he came from-was a ticking time bomb. And one day, sooner or later, it would come to light.

For now, though, she held onto the fragile sense of normalcy she'd built. And as she watched Ryker play with the other children in the square, his laughter echoing through the air, she allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, they could be happy here.