ALPHA'S FATED ONE

Three more months in this prison of fur and fangs, and I could finally stop pretending I belonged here.

Senior year was almost over, and I couldn't wait to leave this shithole of a school behind. I'd endured nearly five years of torment in a place where being wolf-less made me the Pack's favorite punching bag. The Beta's daughter-no wolf. Just a disappointment in sneakers.

Most werewolves got their wolves at thirteen. I was nearly eighteen. Still nothing. No fur, no howling voice in my head, no transformation. Just me. Human. Shamefully so.

Being the freak of the Pack meant I was invisible, unless someone felt like throwing food at me or calling me a disgrace. And today was no exception.

I had just sat down with my lunch in the cafeteria when the crackle of the PA system interrupted my brief moment of peace.

"Katya Hartley, please report to the front office," the secretary's bored voice echoed through the room.

A wave of laughter rippled through the cafeteria like a damn stadium doing the wave. Someone lobbed a burger at my head. The patty missed, but the lettuce didn't. It stuck in my chocolate-brown hair, and the mayo oozed down my neck.

I sighed and peeled the slimy leaf from my hair with one hand while slinging my bag over my shoulder with the other. Classic Thomas. He had the aim of a drunk toddler but the enthusiasm of a chimp on Red Bull.

The hallway was quieter, and I moved quickly through the green corridors toward the front office-my temporary sanctuary. Mrs. Mason ruled that space with an iron glare and a no-bullshit attitude. No one dared mess with me there.

But just as the brown door came into view, Tabitha Blackwell and her goon squad materialized like a bad rash.

"Hey, freak," Tabitha purred, stepping in front of me. Her platinum-blonde hair was too perfect, her smile too venomous.

"What do you want, Tabitha?" I asked flatly. We used to be friends-back when I still believed my wolf was just taking its sweet time. That friendship died the moment the Pack realized I was broken.

She smirked. "Just came to say goodbye."

My stomach tightened. "Goodbye?"

Her blue eyes sparkled with cruel delight. "You haven't heard? Daddy dearest has officially banished you from the Pack. Thought I'd give you a send-off."

Bianca and Maril giggled like brainless hyenas. Beautiful hyenas. If not for their looks, no one would tolerate their stupidity.

A cold splash hit my face as Meril dumped her milkshake on my head. It seeped into the crocheted jumper my mother made me.

Then the door behind me opened.

"Tabitha Elizabeth Blackwell," my mother's voice snapped like a whip. "Is there a reason you're tormenting my daughter?"

Tabitha flinched. My mother's presence had that effect. Strong, respected, and terrifying when provoked. She was the Pack's only female warrior, and she carried that reputation like a blade.

Tabitha turned slowly, her bravado wilting under my mother's glare.

"It was an accident," she stammered.

My mother raised a brow. Then, calmly and without a word, she slapped Tabitha across the face. A crisp crack echoed through the hallway.

Gasps. Silence. Shock.

Tabitha staggered back, eyes wide, cheek blooming red.

"Mum!" I whispered, horrified.

"She had it coming," my mother muttered, then turned to me, her hands suddenly gentle. "Why do you let them treat you like this? You're better than all of them. Wolf or not."

I shook my head. They were wolves. I wasn't. Strength didn't matter when claws and fangs came into play.

"Come. We're leaving," she said briskly, turning toward the car park.

"What?" I followed her, dazed. "What's going on?"

Outside, a moving truck idled next to our car. My dad stood beside it, waiting.

"Hey, pumpkin," he greeted, hugging me. "Strawberry milkshake suits you, but maybe not as conditioner."

"What's happening?" I asked again, louder this time.

My parents exchanged a look.

"We're moving," my dad said finally.

"Because of what Tabitha said? Did the Alpha really banish me?" My voice wavered.

"Yes," my mother said softly. "But we're not sending you away. We're going with you."

"You're leaving the Pack?" I asked, stunned.

"I won't serve an Alpha who throws away my daughter," Dad said. "Beta or not, I'm done."

My mother squeezed my hand. "We're going to the Black Creek Pack. Alpha Ezra accepted us."

My stomach dropped. "Ezra? The one who wiped out the Blue Mountain Pack? That Ezra?"

"He's... not what you've heard," Mum said, a little too quickly.

"And does he know I have no wolf?" I asked, already guessing the answer.

More silence. More glances.

"It won't be a problem," Dad said. "Not if you can prove yourself useful."

So that's what I'd become-a bargaining chip. An omega with good training.

As we pulled away from the only home I'd ever known, one thought stayed lodged in my mind:

If Alpha Ezra found out I was wolf-less, would he finish what Alpha Jackson started?

I fell asleep on the drive, only waking when we stopped at a storage shed. The drive took five hours in total, and I was exhausted, with my back killing me. Dad loaded our stuff into the storage shed before two men approached us.

Two men stepped toward us, sniffing the air.

Wolves.

"Alpha Ezra requests your presence at the pack house immediately," the taller one said, his voice deep and controlled. His head was shaved close, and authority rolled off him like heat. I didn't need to be told-he was the Beta.

His gaze flicked to me, lingering with a faint curl of his lip. "This your daughter?"

"Yes," my father replied, stepping forward. "This is Katya. I'm Derrick."

He held out his hand, and after a pause, the man took it.

"Beta Mateo," he said. "This is Alex-third in command."

Alex gave a short nod. He was broad like Mateo, with messy blond hair falling over hazel eyes. Both of them towered over us, muscle packed into every inch of them. Wolves who didn't need to growl to be threatening.

"I hear you were a Beta in your old Pack," Mateo said.

My father nodded. "Yes."

"Good. We could use the help training some of the newer members-if you're willing."

"I'd be glad to," my father replied.

"This is my mate, Shirley," he added, motioning to my mother.

"Nice to meet you," she said, shaking their hands politely.

"If you'll follow us," Mateo said, turning back toward his sleek black BMW. "We'll escort you to the pack house. You'll be housed temporarily until your property is ready."

We returned to our car and followed them through the sleepy little town. My mother glanced at me, trying to smile.

"See how nice they are? This will work out," she said, her voice too hopeful. "It has to."

We followed their car to the edge of town, where the paved road disappeared into the forest. Trees pressed close on either side, and after a few minutes, the woods opened into a wide clearing. A horseshoe-shaped driveway curved in front of a massive sandstone mansion, its three levels wrapped in ivy and framed by arched windows. The hedges out front were perfectly trimmed, the kind of place that didn't belong to people-it belonged to power.

I climbed out of the car and stared up. It was larger, grander than the packhouse back home. And far colder.

Mateo led us up the white front doors. Inside, the air was cool and still. White marble floors gleamed beneath us. A narrow hallstand with a tall vase: probably worth more than our old house, stood near the entry. Twin staircases curled up toward a landing above.

We followed him between them to a single wooden door. There were benches along the wall, and Mateo paused to knock. A voice, deep and calm, called from the other side.

"Enter."

He slipped in, closing the door behind him. A minute later, he stepped out.

"He'll see your parents first. You can wait here," Mateo said to me.

I sat down as my parents disappeared through the door. The packhouse was strangely quiet. No footsteps, no voices, no scent of life. Just me and the soft hum of nerves tightening in my gut.

Minutes dragged. Then my mother emerged and sat beside me, hands folded tightly in her lap.

"He's just speaking with your father," she whispered. "Then he'll want to speak to us individually. To make sure our stories match."

I froze.

What story?

My voice cracked, barely above a breath.

They banished us because of me.

He's going to find out.

He's going to find out and kill us-or worse, separate me from them.

"Shh. Everything is fine," my mother murmured. "You're our daughter. He won't ask much. Just let us handle it."

Tears burned behind my eyes. I blinked them back.

"What did you tell him?"

"The truth. That we were going to be banished. He doesn't need to know why." She looked me straight in the eye. "Because you do have a wolf, Katya. She's just... sleeping. She'll come."

I nodded, even though I didn't believe it. Not really.

"And if she doesn't?" I whispered.

"She will." Her tone was firm, final.

The door opened again. My father stepped out and nodded at my mother, who stood and smoothed her jeans before walking in.

"She's strong," my father said, sitting beside me. "Stronger than most. The process just hurts a little."

"What process?"

"He'll initiate you into the pack. You'll need to drink his blood."

I recoiled. "What?"

"It's the bond. Once you drink, the link snaps into place. You'll feel it." He hesitated. "And when it breaks from your old Alpha... that part hurts. Like a migraine. Dropped me to my knees, if I'm honest."

Almost on cue, a cry tore through the door.

My father was on his feet instantly. I flinched. The sound chilled me-it wasn't a scream of pain, not entirely. It was... deeper. Raw.

The handle turned, and my mother emerged, clutching her head. My father caught her as she swayed.

I took a step back.

"No," I breathed.

"Kat." My mother straightened, forcing herself to smile through the pain. "It's your turn."

I shook my head. She'd never shown weakness. If it did that to her...

My father came to me and took my arms, firm but gentle.

"Katya, we moved here for you. This is our only chance to stay together. I need you to be brave, just this once."

His voice cracked, and that scared me more than anything.

The Alpha's voice drifted from inside the room. "Everything alright out there?"

My breath caught.

"Please," my father whispered. "Once it's done, it's done."

I nodded slowly, and he guided me to the door. My hand trembled as I turned the handle and stepped inside, closing it softly behind me.

The office was quiet.

He stood behind his desk, reviewing documents. His head lifted as the door clicked shut. He looked at me.

And everything inside me froze.

He was younger than I expected. Late twenties, maybe. Hair dark, shaved close on the sides but longer on top. His silver eyes locked on me, and he inhaled sharply. A low growl rumbled from his chest as his fingers gripped the edge of the desk, knuckles whitening.

The air around him changed-charged, dangerous.

He was beautiful in the way forest fires are beautiful. Uncontrolled. Destructive. Alive.

My feet refused to move, but he beckoned me forward, and I forced one step, then another.

Claw marks scored the wood on his desk. His eyes tracked every inch of me like I was prey, the beast behind them flickering just beneath the surface.

He knows.

He can smell it.

No wolf.

No power.

Nothing but fear and secrets.

He clenched his jaw, and I thought, with absolute certainty:

He's going to kill me.

"You can sit," he says, nodding toward the chair beside me.

I glance at it like it might bite, then slowly perch on the edge, my gaze flicking to the door where my parents wait.

When I look back, he's watching me again. "Your name is Katya?" he asks, his pronunciation perfect. Most people get it wrong the first time.

"Yes, Alpha."

"You can call me Ezra," he says, and I nod silently.

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

He scans the papers on his desk-my parents' forms, my birth certificate. He picks it up and studies it.

"You turn eighteen soon," he muses. "You'll be able to find your mate. That's exciting."

I don't respond. No one wants a defective wolf, a girl whose inner beast won't even wake up. I'm barely more than human, just with better hearing and a nose that actually works.

"You go to school?" he asks.

I nod. "Last year."

"You'll finish this year," he says with finality. No room for argument.

"You don't seem to like school" he added

I bite my lip. "Does anyone actually like school?"

He chuckles. "I did. You don't? That's surprising, coming from a Beta's daughter."

I say nothing. School was fine-until they found out. Until the whispers started.

Ezra leans back slightly. "Your parents mentioned a... situation with the previous Alpha's daughter. Said your mother struck her."

I nod, keeping my mouth shut. Technically true. Just not the reason we left. Let them think what they want-anything is better than the real story.

"Good enough for me," he says, his lips twitching with distaste. "I can't stand Alpha Jackson. The prick should've been put down years ago."

He stands. "Come here."

I freeze. My chair scrapes back an inch involuntarily. His eyes narrow slightly, reading my fear.

"I won't hurt you," he says softly. "I would never hurt you."

He holds out his hand.

I place mine in his, and a jolt runs through me-sharp and strange, like a spark under my skin. I yank my hand back, blinking.

"Static," he says casually, though his smirk suggests otherwise.

He takes my hand again, his fingers warm and calloused, tugging me gently toward him. My heart thunders in my chest.

He's tall, solid, his frame radiating restrained power. I barely come up to his chest. His presence is magnetic-calm on the surface, but I can feel the storm beneath.

Ezra lifts his wrist to his mouth and bites down. Blood wells up instantly.

I stare, horrified, as he raises it to me.

"You've got five seconds, little one," he murmurs. "Tick-tock."

He wraps his arm around my waist, drawing me closer. My pulse spikes. The scent of him-pine and storm-wraps around me. Overwhelming.

I hesitate only a second longer, then lean in.

I press my lips to his skin. Warmth. Salt. Iron. His blood tastes... odd. Not foul, not bitter. Almost sweet. I can't tell if it's the blood or the man himself, but it surprises me.

He pulls his wrist away but keeps me against him, chest to back.

"Now pledge," he whispers, breath brushing my ear. His voice vibrates through me.

I swallow.

"I, Katya Hartley, pledge my loyalty and my life to Alpha Ezra..." I pause, faltering. I don't know his last name.

He leans closer, lips nearly brushing mine. "Pierce," he whispers.

I force the words out. "To Alpha Ezra Pierce of Black Creek Pack."

The moment the words leave me, pain detonates in my skull. Blinding, brutal. I drop to my knees, crying out as white-hot agony floods my mind.

Every voice from my old pack screams through me-memories, orders, insults, lies-shattering like glass.

And then, just as suddenly, it stops.

Like a string snapping.

"You're okay," Ezra says softly, still holding me upright. His voice echoes in my head now, inside the pack link.

I look up, disoriented. He's smiling.

"You good for me to let go?" he asks.

I blink, dazed. His arms are around my waist, just under my chest. My face burns with sudden awareness. I'm wrapped in the arms of the man I just pledged my life to, and now I can't stop noticing how warm he is. How solid. How close.

I step back quickly. He releases me without resistance, though his eyes linger.

His gaze goes distant for a second, and then the door bursts open.

My parents rush in.

"You okay?" my father asks, fussing over me.

"See? Told you it wouldn't be that bad," he says.

I bat their hands away, cheeks still warm. "I'm fine. Seriously."

Ezra stands behind his desk again, his attention shifting. "You'll stay in the pack house tonight. Tomorrow, I'll show you to your new home."

He glances at my mother. "Why did you request a place so far out?"

"Kat doesn't get along well with others. She prefers space," my mother answers before I can.

Ezra looks mildly surprised. "Why is that?" he asks, directing the question to me now.

"I just like being alone," I say with a shrug, eyes on the floor.

He presses his lips into a thoughtful line, but doesn't push.

"You'll move in tomorrow. I've already enrolled Katya in school-she starts Monday. Skip the pack run on Friday. Report here Monday morning for work assignments."

"Pack run?" I echo before I can stop myself.

My mother nudges me sharply.

Ezra notices. "Pack runs are mandatory. Problem?"

"No problem," my father answers quickly, giving me a warning look.

Ezra's gaze shifts to my mother. "How are you with training teenagers?"

"I trained Katya," she says. "Mostly older girls, but I can manage."

He nods, considering. "Good. The high school could use another trainer. You can keep an eye on Katya there as well."

My mother lights up. "That would be lovely. Thank you, Alpha."

Ezra's eyes flick to me again, lingering before he turns to my father.

"My Beta will show you to your room for the night," he says, lowering into his chair.

The meeting's over. But something in the air between us lingers.

Something that won't go away.