THE WEREWOLF ALPHA RAVE

Dedication

A letter to Raven:

I'm sorry I abandoned you for so long.

You deserved all of my attention, and in that aspect, I failed.

I'd been stuck between a rock in a hard place for a while,

so long, that I'd almost given up on you.

I'd almost let you become nothing more than an unfinished idea.

But, that's not what you are.

It's not what you were ever meant to be.

I've always longed to give you a breath of life;

to grace you with a resilient personality.

You deserve more than I've been giving,

and I won't let you go unnoticed anymore.

I will revive the piece of my heart that's always been meant for you.

I will work to become whole again.

I will give you wings.

I will make you fly.Dedication

A letter to Raven:

I'm sorry I abandoned you for so long.

You deserved all of my attention, and in that aspect, I failed.

I'd been stuck between a rock in a hard place for a while,

so long, that I'd almost given up on you.

I'd almost let you become nothing more than an unfinished idea.

But, that's not what you are.

It's not what you were ever meant to be.

I've always longed to give you a breath of life;

to grace you with a resilient personality.

You deserve more than I've been giving,

and I won't let you go unnoticed anymore.

I will revive the piece of my heart that's always been meant for you.

I will work to become whole again.

I will give you wings.

I will make you fly.

March 7th, 2009

"Keep running, and whatever you do, don't look back!" A man's voice screams through the darkness. The black hole is empty and devoid of life, only carrying sounds and a feeling of unease.

Wait, where am I and how long have I been here?

"Do you understand me..." he demands, his voice trailing off and filling the ever expanding room once again. I want to answer, to tell him that I most certainly do not understand what he's telling me to do, but as I try to speak nothing comes out of my mouth.

No words. No sounds. Nothing.

At this point, I don't even know if I exist. I could be nothing more than a collective consciousness. There are no observable others through the thick veil of nothingness, so maybe I'm no longer alive. Maybe I'm dead. If I am dead, who was I before I died?

I fire off electrical impulses in my perceived brain, focusing all concentration on trying to feel something...​anything​, but nothing happens. It's as if my own body doesn't exist.

I'm stuck in a place that has no beginning or end, and I don't even know who I am. Every thought I have only adds another question to the mystery that is myself. Days, months, or years pass in this place where time doesn't apply. Everything blends together when all I see is the color black.

The man's voice plays on an endless loop, his commands drifting off into the vast unknown. At this point, I'm convinced I'll be stuck in this Groundhog Day scenario for all of eternity. Finally, I stop trying to fight for life and I let it be. I relinquish control over my existence, and suddenly, the darkness begins to lift. A tiny pinprick of light materializes far off in the distance and I swim towards it like my life depends on it. I guess maybe it might, but I'll never know if I don't float through that beacon of hope.

I have to reach that light.

I need to reach that light.

***

A low pitched, steadily beeping machine is the first thing that welcomes me to reality. My eyes shoot open and I glance around a sterile, white walled room that appears to be some sort of hospital. The only splashes of life added to this bleak establishment consists of a blue vase of sunflowers by my bedside, a burning orange glow from the setting sun behind beige curtains...and a blonde girl curled up on a pastel green couch?

She's wearing a white tank top with black shorts and her bright red nose sticks out against her slightly pale skin. I can tell she's been crying based on the bags underneath her lashes and the sheen coming off her eyelids as they've been rubbed almost raw. I cautiously prop myself up in bed and the heart rate monitor attached to my body goes haywire. The commotion causes the girl to wake and she rapidly sits up on the couch. Her bright blue gaze locks onto me and her mouth falls open, her attention fixed on nothing else.

"Oh my god..." she whispers as tears begin streaming down her face. She scrambles to launch herself across the room and throws her arms around my shoulders. I tense up with panic and instinctively use my palms to shove her off me in a frenzy. I inch away from her on my bed and she shoots me a bewildered look. She cautiously makes another attempt to approach me, but I shy away from her just as quickly.

"Don't touch me," I demand, moving myself even further away from her so I can jump off the bed if needed. I don't want physical contact of any type with anyone right now. The sheer thought of someone's hands on my body fills me with a horrible sense of discomfort. My abrupt reaction saddens her expression and she gazes at me with worry.

"Do you not recognize me? I-I'm Tessa, your best friend. We've known each other our entire lives," she stammers. I skeptically shake my head at her, still not believing a single word she says. I don't know this girl at all and I'm sure we've never met before this moment.

We sit like this in silence while Tessa stares at me with confusion. The wheels in my head are turning, but it feels like the only components of my brain are missing parts and rusted out thoughts. There isn't a single memory about anyone or anything that I can recall. I'm a completely blank slate on anything besides basic common knowledge.

"Who am I?" My lips part and the words come out before I even have time to register them. Tessa's mouth hangs slightly agape as she marvels at my inquiry.

"You...you don't know who you are?" she asks. I shake my head and swallow hard, desperately trying to remember anything about myself, but it's as if there's nothing to recollect in the first place; like a life before this moment never existed.

She takes a deep breath and nods her head, quickly running her fingers underneath her eyes to wipe away some of the moisture pooling in her eyelashes. "Shit...I'll be right back." She slowly turns around and heads toward the door, pulling it open before jogging out into the hallway. As soon as she's gone, I let out a sigh of relief and my tension loosens up a bit. My eyes frantically search the room for any clues that could tip me off about my identity. I'm scanning everywhere for a medical chart, a 'get well soon' card with my name printed inside – hell, even someone telling me my name would be a welcomed relief. But, there's nothing of any value within the confines of these walls which worries me even more. My only philosophy right now is to trust no one because I have to be this way. It's too risky to hand out my faith to people who might want to harm me.

Anyone could be the reason I'm here in the first place.

I look down at my green hospital gown and note the series of wires coming from my chest. I quickly rip them off my body and toss them to the floor, causing the machine next to me to emit a high pitched flat line. I naturally begin to panic from the unnatural loudness and I jump out of the bed, desperately trying to find a way to shut this thing off before it alerts someone. I kneel down next to the milky white wall and unplug the godforsaken device, flooding the room with soothing silence once again. I stand back up and slowly inch away from it, my breathing hitched from adrenaline and fear. I'm terrified that someone will come in here after they heard it go off, so I brace myself for the possibility of unwanted human contact. I stare at the door for a moment with anticipation, patiently waiting for something to happen. After a few minutes of no commotion on the other side, I sigh with relief and begin assessing my surroundings yet again.

Looks like I get a few moments to myself before someone inevitably comes for the girl with no memories.

I stare down at my bare feet on the pale, cold hospital tile and I wiggle my toes around. My feet look weird, like the appendages of a creature I've never seen before. I then proceed to hold my slightly tanned arms out in front of me and notice a few patches of faded bruising just beneath the skin.

What happened to me? Better yet, what do I even look like?

I take a deep breath and make my way to a large window on the right hand side of the room, drawing the beige curtains back. I squint my eyes in response to the abundance of fading sunlight now cascading into the room. So far, the only landmarks outside are clumps of cars in the parking lot a few floors down and a couple of sporadic people walking around, but this doesn't help me much. It doesn't tell me who I am or even where I am.

I try to focus on the image of the girl staring back at me. After a few moments, my eyes finally adjust to the light and I dial in on my reflection. I lean a bit closer and gaze at my own face for what feels like the first time in my life. I've got shoulder length, wavy black hair that desperately needs to be brushed, light freckles that span across my nose and upper cheeks, and bright green eyes rimmed with long dark eyelashes. Seeing my own face like this should theoretically jog my memory, but the longer I stare at my reflection, the more it feels like I'm looking at a complete stranger. If I passed by myself on the street, I'd never even know it was me. I ease even closer to the window, locking eyes with myself. The jade green color consuming my irises would be beautiful if it wasn't for the darkness I can see lingering behind my stare.

The beauty is shrouded by shadows of pain with no origin, trauma caused by someone or something that has no name and the confusion of my brain trying to piece together what it can't remember.

There is an unrepairable fracture to my former existence that will probably never be restored.

The dull hum of people talking in the hallway causes me to whip myself back around to face my impending company. Three distinct sets of footsteps are approaching the door to my room from a decent distance away, although I'm not sure how I can even hear that. These doors are thick sheet metal and sound doesn't travel very freely thought them, but their footsteps sound as if the door is wide open. My hearing and senses are so on end that I can practically feel the physical presence of sound as it grazes my skin.

I back myself up against the painted metal windowsill so I am at a safe distance from whoever is coming. The silver doorknob turns in place and the first face I see is Tessa's familiar one. Her eyes find mine and she shuffles in to the left, allowing two unfamiliar men to enter behind her. One of them is a little older with brown eyes and newly graying hair while the other is roughly the same age and height, donning a white lab coat with black hair.

"Hello, my name is Doctor Larson. We're so glad to have you up and awake." The man in the lab coat is the first to speak. "How are you feeling?" he inquires while holding a manila folder. He opens it and quickly reads over some of the chart before his eyes meet mine again.

"I-I'm...confused," I stutter while my eyes dart between the three strangers standing along the opposite wall. They're observing me like an unstable, wild animal that's no longer in captivity. There's no safety net of glass or fence to separate them from me. They're afraid I'm so unaccustomed to the outside world I might snap at any moment.

I guess maybe I might. I don't exactly know who I was before right now.

"It's okay, that's to be expected. You've been in a coma for a little over a week now," the doctor answers, causing my stomach to sink.

I've been comatose for over a week?

I swallow hard and nervously glance around before the man with greying hair takes a small step forward. I back myself up against the windowsill in an effort to get away from him, but it's not like I've got anywhere to go. I'm being backed into a corner, and I could snap at any moment.

"It's okay honey, I'm not going to hurt you," he explains. "My name is Zander McCain...do you remember me?"

"No, I...I don't remember you," I reply while shaking my head. His face honestly doesn't look familiar to me. None of these people do.

"David, can you give us a minute?" Zander states as he shoots Doctor Larson a side glance. The doctor nods his head and flashes me a half smile before exiting the room, leaving just Tessa and Zander as my company. I cautiously observe as Zander approaches me with his hands extended in front of his body, trying to show me that he means no harm. He reaches the edge of my bed a few feet away and takes a seat on it.

"Can you tell me the last thing you recall?" His dark brown eyes are probing mine for information, but I have nothing to offer.

"I don't remember anything at all. Not you, not her, not me," I answer. Zander takes a deep breath and brings his fist up to his mouth, plotting out his next words carefully.

"Okay...everything I'm about to tell you may be confusing and hard to hear, but I think it might help jog your memory," he states and I silently nod my head. At this point, I'll welcome any information if it has the potential to bring back my memories. Zander inhales fully, gradually letting the air leave his lungs before speaking.

"There was an incident that occurred about two weeks ago, and that event is precisely why you are here right now....your mother, father, brother and yourself were kidnapped from your home and vanished without a trace. We searched for the four of you non-stop for a week but weren't able to find anything. After seven days, you alone turned up on the edge of our territory unconscious, bloodied and beaten. We immediately brought you into the hospital and continued to search for the rest of your family...but they didn't make it. I'm so sorry," he explains with sadness. I raise an eyebrow and look over at Tessa who is trying to maintain her composure, but it's not really working. She can't seem to stop crying. I'd assume she had an emotional connection to my deceased family even though I don't really feel like I did. My blood relatives were murdered, and the natural human reaction to that news should be one of pain and sadness. Unfortunately, I don't feel much of anything at all. I can't even remember what they look like or anything about them to feel that way. It's like trying to mourn a complete stranger.

"Why were we kidnapped?" I ask. I need answers, there has to be more to it than this. My only lifeline to this planet cannot consist of a randomly plotted assassination of the family I can't remember. If it is...where does that even leave me?

"We're not sure," Zander answers. "The only information we have is that a random werewolf pack hunted you down. With no information on the black market, it leads me to believe they wanted you all dead just for the sport of it." A sting of bitterness clings to his words as I narrow my eyes at him in silence, trying to decipher everything he just said to me. He takes notice of my skeptical look and glances over his shoulder at Tessa who is nervously biting her bottom lip. He draws in a deep breath before he faces me once again. "I know it's hard to believe, but I meant what I said...werewolves killed your family, and that is a fact. Contrary to popular belief, humans are not the only beings to exist on this planet. You aren't even human yourself."

I rapidly shake my head in denial with a maniacal smile. This is absolutely insane. Zander said werewolves are responsible for the murder of my family like we are all living in some sort of fantasy novel. There's no way any of this is real. He's obviously playing some sort of sick joke on the girl who's got amnesia. He makes an abrupt motion to reach out and take my hand in his, but the second his fingertips graze my palm, fear and panic overtake my senses.

"Don't touch me!" I scream while snapping my hand back away from his. I immediately begin hyperventilating, scrambling to curl up in a little ball against the windowsill so I can get away from him. My heart rate is so rapid that it feels as if my chest cavity is going to rip apart from the strain. Suddenly, a searing pain branches throughout every bone in my body and I cry out in agony. My palms shoot downwards onto the cool window frame and I rake my nails across the paint, removing little strips of color only to leave shiny, metal streaks behind. I gasp for air as my fingers begin to shorten, seemingly receding into my wrists. My eyes widen with sheer terror and Zander takes a step back.

"Shit..." he frantically whispers, turning around to move the hospital bed further away from me. He looks up at a panicked Tessa as he rolls the mattress in her direction. "Lock the door, Tessa," he demands. She nods in compliance and quickly twists the metal bolt, sealing the three of us into this jail cell.

"No...no no no..." I painfully sob through tears. Sharp, agonizing needles of torture web throughout my limbs as they contort and reform into an unrecognizable pattern. I tightly close my eyes in an effort to block out any additional visual stimuli. I'm shrinking in size and I feel like my flesh is being ripped apart from the inside out. I feel like I'm dying.

"Hey...just listen to my voice and focus," Zander attempts to soothe me with his words. I try to allow his comfort to wash over me, but it doesn't work. Nothing is working right now.

I'm going to die all over again and I don't even know who I am.

"This will be over soon...just stay calm and let the transition happen," Zander's voice echoes throughout my eardrums. "You're okay...you're safe, Raven."

***

"Keep running, and whatever you do, don't look back...do you understand me, Raven?" The familiar, comforting sound of a stranger's voice echoes through my blurred dream. I'm standing somewhere amongst the trees, bound to a fate that I can't change no matter what I do. Somewhere off in the darkness of a forest, cloudy silhouettes hunched close to the ground inch closer and closer to me, but that's all I can see.

It's all I ever see.

"Shit...you have to shift!" he shouts once more, but I've given up trying to respond, remember or recognize my protector. It's been too long at this point. Too many years of trying and coming up empty handed.

"I love you Rae, you can do this without us..." He offers one final plea before the sensation of waking reality pulls me back.

***

I gasp for air and clutch the white sheets of my bed in hand. I stare at the popcorns ceiling for a moment and try to steady my breathing just as I do every other morning. I comb my fingers through my long, wavy black hair and pause at my temples to massage my fingertips against them.

Every single night since I was 16 years old, I've had the same exact dream. Someone's frantic voice is calling to me, begging me to shift and leave them behind. We dart through the darkness and approach an open clearing in the middle of the night, but I never see their face. I don't discover what happens afterwards, and it's just another one of the many memories I'll never be able to revive. Another piece of my past and history as a shapeshifter that I'll never discover.

Unfortunately, none of this is a foreign concept to me. For the past nine years, I have struggled to remember the first sixteen years of my life. I have pushed my mind to its absolute limit in an attempt to get some type of memories to come forward, but they never do. The first few years, I racked my brain all day, every day as I desperately clung to the idea that maybe...just maybe, I'd remember something. But after a while, I gave up. The way I look at it, I am twenty four going on twenty five years old and if I haven't even had a glimpse of any reveries at this point in my life, I seriously doubt that I ever will. Nine years of trying, hoping and praying only to come up fruitless will kill that dream, trust me.

I let out a deep sigh as bright rays of sunshine peak through my ivory drapes and stream into my eyes, temporarily blinding me and forcing me to get out of bed. I groan in protest before swinging my legs over the edge and extending my arms above my head to stretch. I yawn profusely due to the lack of sleep I so often experience and shuffle my way into my bathroom.

The door to my bedroom flies open and I feel my heart stop in my chest. "I can't even believe you're actually up right now. It must be some sort of Spring Solstice miracle," Tessa points out in her usual upbeat voice.

"Do you really need to burst in here without knocking every time you need something?" I roll my eyes only to continue to the original task of brushing my teeth.

"Uhh, yes? Is that even a real question?" she mater-of-factly answers.

"Guess not..." I mumble through my toothbrush. Tessa and I have been living together since we were sixteen years old and we basically picked up right where we left off in the friendship department. Once I came out of my coma, I still don't remember anything about her before the age of sixteen, but my level of comfortability around her stayed. She's the only person I know whose physical touch and presence doesn't bother me at all. As far as our friendship goes, the theory of 'opposites attracting' certainly applies. Her disposition is about as subtle as a loaded gun and she always speaks her mind, but it is a much needed trait to balance out my more passive nature. I don't really like conflict, or people for that matter, so I tend to avoid confrontation like the plague.

Tessa walks over to my cherry wood wardrobe and yanks the second drawer from the top open. She scours the contents to find me something suitable to wear until she zeros in on a pair of leggings, a green tank top and a light jacket. She tosses them to me as I exit the bathroom and sigh loudly, proceeding to put them on.

I'm not looking forward to this day at all and Tessa knows it.

Today's date is March 20th, 2018, the first day of the Spring Solstice. Not only is it the date that marks the beginning of Spring, it also symbolizes our first quarterly cluster gathering of the year.

A 'cluster' is essentially a fancier term for a 'pack' when referring to shapeshifters instead of werewolves, although we aren't nearly as close when it comes to the familial connections. Werewolf packs are generally bound together so tightly that they can hear each other's thoughts through mind-linking, they'd defend one another to the ends of the earth and are one big glorified family. Shapeshifters, on the other hand, aren't typically so tightly knit. We tend to live a more solitary lifestyle than pack-oriented werewolves and we only congregate together when it's necessary. I couldn't tell you where half of the people in Noctis live, what they like to do for fun or any personal information about them. I see these strangers four times per year and I hardly know most of them from one another.

So, this is how we've arrived at Exhibit A; the quarterly cluster meetings.

For some reason completely unbeknownst to me, my entire cluster, known as the Noctis cluster, crams twenty-something of us into the fancy ballroom of Noctis Manor for a glorified 'meeting of the minds' every three months.

Let me take a moment to put this in perspective for you.

Imagine that you're attending a family reunion with a bunch of distant relatives; all twice removed, most boasting a shitty sense of entitlement and some who are just plain weird. You've got the creepy uncle who won't stop staring at you, the annoying bitchy cousins that think the world revolves around them, and the aunts who won't shut the fuck up about how much you need to find 'a nice, shifter man' to settle down with. The entire time, you have to paint on this fake smile and pretend like you've missed them all oh-so-much when really, you've been enjoying the solitude. Every moment of relative peace, quiet and freedom that you've experienced not spent in their presence has been a blessing.

But wait, there's more!

In addition to being forced into enjoying each other's company, we are all obligated to keep our mouths shut for the next four to six painstaking hours as Zander, our averagely built, temporary Alpha drones on endlessly about anything shifter related. The highly stimulating topics range from strategic plans, running surveillance, avoiding detection by other supernatural entities, to how we should wipe our asses. Unfortunately, one of his main demands is to show up for each and every quarterly meeting without question, rain or shine. So I do, but it doesn't mean that I have to enjoy or like it in any way, shape or form.

Does it sound like fun yet?

If you say yes, I would have to let out the world's most genuine laugh and highly disagree with you. Every time I think about the inevitable Noctis cluster congregation, I want to run away and never return. Especially today. Sooner than I care to admit, I am set to take my rightful place as the Alpha of my cluster, and this is our last meeting before that happens. Stepping up as Alpha is a position that I neither qualify for nor want in the first place and the thought of taking over just makes me want to disappear. I can barely even keep myself afloat, let alone the entirety of Noctis.

What I want or desire doesn't matter though; by right of blood, I am required to ascend at the age of 25. Someone can challenge me for the title, but no one will. They're all far too passive to make that dream of mine become a reality. Even though I was born to be a leader, that's not how I feel inside and I don't particularly want to be the head of a group of people I don't connect with.

"Do you think Zander would notice if we just didn't show up?" I grumble as we make our way towards the old wooden stairs of our dated home. It's a wood-frame dwelling built in the 1920′s that constantly needs to be tented for termites, but the rent is cheap and it's in our territory. Beggars can't be choosers.

"He will absolutely notice," Tessa huffs as she reaches the bottom of the stairs. She skips ahead to pull the front door open, beaming at me over her shoulder. "Now, less bitching, more shifting!"

I sigh as we make our way down the faded white steps of the front porch and out into the sea of brown yard space. Tessa immediately begins stripping off her pink jacket while we crunch through the dead grass and head into the woods. The old decaying leaves from the previous winter audibly crumble underneath my boots and I draw in a deep breath, enjoying the smell of the outdoors. All of the dense pine trees and cedar are finally beginning to gain their color back, tiny chutes of green leaves and needles lining the treetops. I gaze up towards the clear blue sky and smile, knowing that in a few short minutes I will finally have two hours of pure, unfiltered happiness in my life. After our brief fifteen minute walk, we finally reach a clearing in the center of the woods and Tessa begins to remove the rest of her clothing. She heaps it all into a little mountain and stands naked in front of me, stretching out with a huge smile on her face.

She drops to the ground and begins shifting into her animal of choice; an oversized Canadian Lynx. Her skin starts splitting apart in all places, giving way to dark grey fur spanning across her entire body. Pointed ears accented with black fur expand on top of her head, and a short bob tail shoots out from her back. Her arms and legs transform into long limbs and paws, the bones stretching and reforming. Within a matter of seconds, her shift is complete as she stands before me and gently shakes out the fur of her newly transformed body.

As shapeshifters, we have the ability to shift into almost any animal, so long as we have come in physical contact with it before. The exception to that rule being humans, insects, and oddly enough, wolves. The possibilities are vast, but most of us mainly stick to a few animals; this is for two main reasons.

First, the transition becomes easier and quicker the more we shift into one animal. It's not exactly a comfortable transformation in general, but it does get significantly less taxing if you pick one and stick with it. The second reason is that we usually connect with a specific animal or two and don't really feel the need to shift into anything else. Tessa is a cat lover at heart and due to her job at the local Big Cat Sanctuary, she has the ability to shift into almost every large cat that you can think of. Tigers, mountain lions, bobcats, panthers, jaguars. You name it, she can shift into it. But out of all the felines, her favorite seems to be a Canadian Lynx, so she tends to select that more often than not.

Now, it's my turn.

I begin picturing a medium-sized black bird in my mind. I envision its glossy black feathers with a light bluish tinge, it's talons as they grasp onto a tree branch swaying in the breeze.

I think about a raven, to be precise.

My body quickly begins to transform as my arms shrink inward, the bones becoming less dense and more hollow. Before I know it, tiny goosebumps filled with feathers scatter across my bare skin and two of my limbs are now wings. My legs rapidly degrade in size as scaled black talons expand from where my feet once were. My teeth recede and my mouth forms into a pointed beak, my nose disappearing into two small holes atop my feathered face. In a matter of seconds, my transition is complete. The anxiousness to fly sets in and I flap my wings to begin my ascent above the treetops. I drive upwards through the branches and break free, surveying all of our surroundings. Tessa runs beneath me, clearly enjoying the feeling of extended stamina, heightened senses and peace. I effortlessly glide through the air, doing a quick barrel roll with excitement before straightening back out.

This right here; soaring above the treetops without a care in the world, having the ability to go anywhere I please with a simple flap of my wings. This is freedom, and it's the one thing I desperately want, but will never truly have.

Countless members of my cluster have always wondered why my shift of choice is a small raven. They don't understand why my preference is a tiny bird when I could be any other animal of my choosing. I could select something fierce like a bear, stealthy and quick like a fox, or even a bird of prey like an eagle - but they aren't me. Ravens are the one animal I truly connect with, and I couldn't even tell you why. I'm already locked in place in nearly every aspect of my life, so it only seems fitting that I pick an animal within my comfort zone.

I am bound to Noctis as their future leader whether I like it or not, and it isn't something that I can simply walk away from. Even more important than that; my mind is its own form of hellacious purgatory. Sixteen years of memories have been completely blocked and essentially flushed down the toilet. No matter how hard I try, I can never remember anything from before I was that age. So for me, the only sliver of freedom that I will ever temporarily be able to enjoy is in the form of a bird. For just a moment, I can close my eyes and pretend that I am letting my wings carry me to a faraway place with no specific destination.

Somewhere I can be free of this hell that I call my life and my mind.

•••

All too soon, the feeling of autonomy that I experience while soaring through the air is quickly snuffed out when the daunting peaks of Noctis Manor come into my frame of view. The trees gradually begin to thin out, giving way to sprawling fertilized grass, immaculately trimmed hedges and shrubbery surrounding the grey mansion. The Manor was built sometime in the early 1900′s, so it's got that old block foundation, cone pointed building tops and bleak looking charcoal shingles that give it a 'Haunted Mansion at Disney' sort of vibe. I grew up here for almost sixteen years with my family when my parents were in charge, but I obviously don't remember any of that. The only thing that I do know for sure is that every time I see this building come into view, I shudder a little bit inside. Not because I can remember anything about my time on this piece of property, but because of what I've heard happened to my family and I here.

That's one thing I never wish to remember.

I gradually begin descending towards the ground behind a thin veil of trees, landing on the soft grass with a gentle flap of my wings. Tessa closes in right behind me and drops our clothes to the ground before her. I double over onto the earth and the tips of my wings begin to form into fingers that grasp onto the cool grass. My talons slowly begin to lose their hardness and I feel them softening back into human legs. I stand up from my hunched over position as the last of my transition takes place. I shake out the dark tendrils of my hair, pulling it back into a messy bun. I bend down and grab my clothes that now have a small amount of Canadian Lynx spit on them and quickly toss everything on. I glance over at Tessa who is now fully clothed as well and notice the long line of cars parked in the driveway. She also sees the congregation of cars and lets out a sharp sigh.

"Great, we're running half an hour late," Tessa grumbles with annoyance. "We'd better get inside to avoid Zander's lecture about how we're never on time."

I open my mouth to make some sort of smartass comment, but the sound of shuffling feet approaching from behind me stops the words from leaving my mouth. I turn around to face the Manor as Zander walks with a purpose in our direction. I paint on the fakest smile that I can muster and apologetically smile because I have to. He's giving me the look of irritation I often receive when I'm not here on time.

Zander McCain is average in pretty much every way. He stands at about 5′9″ with short salt and peppered hair, a body type that falls into the healthy percentile and deep-set brown eyes rimmed with fine lines and wrinkles. He's a nice enough guy, he means well and always puts the cluster first, but damn does he annoy the ever living shit out of me. His approach to running Noctis is essentially convincing everyone to avoid all other supernatural entities (namely werewolves). We've been told to run like hell if we come in contact with any of them. He doesn't believe in using our shifting abilities to defend ourselves and his main selling point is that keeping us alive is more important than teaching us to fight. So, if we get into a situation where we have to choose fight or flight, he wants us to always choose flight. He's essentially the reason why our cluster has become so complacent and soft. Supposedly Noctis used to be a little fiercer, but that seems to have fallen by the wayside when Zander temporarily took over as Alpha. Despite my issues with him, he is still our current leader. We are all bound to his command and forced to obey.

"You're late...again," he states and I nod my head in acknowledgement.

"I know, I apologize. We got held up," I reply with an innocent smile even though I'm not actually sorry. If it were up to me, I'd never have showed up to a single one of these events and he knows it.

Zander huffs at my empty apology and turns on his heel, starting back towards the manor at a quick pace. Tessa and I follow suit and I sigh as the three of us approach the ten foot archways of the painted glass doors leading into the ballroom. Zander props the door open and ushers us inside. We enter the room and my tan Uggs quietly slide across the cream marbled tiles. The warm, beige painted drywall and staggered variety of paintings lining the walls always makes me feel like I am walking through the old British parliament. The standard sensation of eyes glued to me as we immerse ourselves in the other cluster members only makes me want to hightail it out of here even more. Tessa and I strategically position ourselves at the back of the crowd like always. I hate being the center of attention, but that's about to reach a screeching halt. In three short months, I won't have a choice in the matter.

A few random people flash me some fake smiles or offer little exaggerated waves of excitement, so I simply nod my head and smile back in response. Tessa files in to my left hand side and sighs, stuffing her palms into the front pocket of her hoodie. My eyes follow Zander as he skirts around the crowd of people who are all softly chatting with one another. He walks up onto the split stairwell so he is strategically positioned on a higher level than everyone else and he gazes out at the crowd. He likes to have the ability to lock eyes with each and every one of us to ensure that we are paying attention, especially me.

"Greetings everyone, and thank you all for coming to the first quarterly meeting of the year!" he bellows out, excitedly grinning from ear to ear.

Yeah, it's not like we had much of a choice buddy.

"As you know, we have quite a few things to discuss today, so I won't waste any of your time with small talk...there seems to have been some recent werewolf activity in the area directly bordering our territory, so I'd like you all to use caution, even while operating inside of our boarders. So far, I'm not sure why there has been an influx, but rest assured that I am looking into it. I know I've said this many times before, but I will say it again - if you happen to come in contact with a werewolf, I do not want any of you to engage them physically or verbally. There are countless reasons we don't coexist with one another and I aim to keep it that way for our own safety," he explains. "The only thing wolves want from us is to see our species go extinct. We have known this for centuries, and killing us is nothing more than a game to them...almost nine years ago, we were reminded of this fact the hard way when we lost our dear Nathaniel, Nadia, and Alexander." His face drops with sadness as he mentions my family. Like clockwork, people start turning around to face me, shooting me their rehearsed, sympathetic smiles and downtrodden stares. Meanwhile, I bite my tongue so hard that I taste iron. Zander always brings up my deceased parents and brother which, in turn, causes everyone in the room to give me these solicitous, pitying looks. He forces me to be the center of attention. He does this at every single meeting, and I can only react one of two ways;

The first reaction – act like I am visibly upset while staring at the ground, feigning dejection. I frown and bear it while everyone in the room gazes at me with empathy.

The second reaction - I snap and tell him to shut the fuck up. I tell him to quit making me the focal point, to let my deceased family exist as just that. Deceased.

Trust me, I know the latter sounds harsh, but do you know how hard it is to miss people that you can't even remember? I miss the concept of my family, I miss what that blood connection represented and how happy I'm sure I was when they were alive, but that's about it. I can't long for the things that I don't know I experienced. More accurately, I can't miss what I don't remember.

But, me being my usual passive self, I simply do the same thing that I always do in this situation. I go with option one, accepting everyone's misplaced sympathy because it's easier this way. There is far less conflict and drama if I unambiguously follow along with the reaction he wants from me, so I bite the bullet and let it go.

"Now, onward to the next topic up for discussion today - " he states with a renewed sense of purpose, effortlessly flowing into his next subject.

Tess reaches over and grabs my hand while Zander's voice fades off in the background, giving it a little reassuring squeeze. She knows exactly how I feel about this entire situation, but she also knows there is nothing we can do about it. Trying to change the meticulous way Zander functions and runs Noctis is an impossibility. Any adjustments to his way of running things won't happen while he is in charge. It will only take root once I am thrown into the Alpha position and I force change onto everyone.

Unless I disappear into the night and live as a rogue, never paying these people another thought.

That's always a valid option