The Lost Pack: Dark Untamed Fate

** Poppy's POV **

I've learned two things in the last eight months. The first is that oat milk people are the most judgmental people in this town. The second is that if you talk back to the voices in your head out loud, strangers will absolutely assume you're unhinged. Which is honestly pretty fair.

The bell above the coffee shop door chimes as another customer leaves, and I plaster on my best friendly smile while silently begging the universe for five uninterrupted minutes without someone demanding a complicated order that I will most definitely get wrong and earn myself a huff and an eye roll. The universe, as usual, ignores me.

The pressure starts behind my eyes. It's not painful, more like a hand settling at the base of my skull, heavy and insistent.

"You're avoiding it again," the ethereal voice floats through my mind as if it's my own thought.

I snort a small laugh as I wipe down the counter. "I'm working," I mutter.

Mrs Ribble, who comes in every morning at 8:17 a.m. narrows her eyes at me from the other side of the counter.

"Sorry," I say brightly. "Talking to the espresso machine. It's been giving me attitude all morning."

She huffs. "Machines don't have attitudes."

"You've clearly never met this one."

She leaves with her Americano and a suspicious glance over her shoulder. I can already hear it now.

'Crazy coffee girl,' they whisper.

I don't care, not really. Or at least, I tell myself I don't.

The pressure deepens, curling inward this time, warm and annoyingly patient.

"You can't keep running."

"Oh my goodness," I hiss under my breath as I grab another cloth and scrub at an already spotless surface. "Can you not do this right now? I'm on shift."

"You always have an excuse," the voice replies with an amused tone.

I bite down on my tongue. This one feels different from the others. It's clearer and sharper somehow. It sounds almost smug.

"I swear," I whisper, leaning closer to the counter as if the till might overhear, "if you are another hallucination brought on by caffeine withdrawal, I'm going to lose it."

"You know I'm not."

A man at the closest table looks up from his laptop screen.

I straighten immediately, forcing a smile. "...lose it," I repeat louder, with a strained laugh. "Like, misplace it. My pen, it happens all the time."

He nods slowly and goes back to typing. Fantastic, I nailed it. He doesn't suspect a thing.

The other presences are there too; they always are. They don't speak to me though. They press in, sliding like cold fog along the edges of my thoughts.

Sometimes, late at night, I think I hear them breathing. Like they're right there, just out of sight.

I busy myself making two lattes for a tourist couple who whisper while pointing at the cakes behind the glass, and for a blissful few minutes, the world is just steamed milk, soft chatter, clinking cups and the smell of fresh coffee.

Then the bell rings again, and everything in me goes still. I don't look up right away, not wanting to alert whatever it is that's just walked through the door that I can feel them, feel that they're different. That I can sense how they make the air feel suddenly charged, like the moment before a thunderstorm.

My skin prickles as if someone has dragged fingers lightly down my spine, and my heart skips a beat that has nothing to do with attraction and everything to do with instinct.

"Oh," says the voice in my mind. "That's interesting."

I lift my gaze slowly.

Two men stand just inside the doorway, raindrops clinging to their jackets; one is blonde, the other a redhead. They don't look the same physically, but they move with the same easy confidence, the same awareness of the space around them. Predators who know they don't need to rush.

Their eyes find me immediately. Not the counter or the menu, like most customers, their focus is all on me.

I don't flinch or step back; I just raise an eyebrow and say, "If you're going to stare, at least buy me dinner first."

The redhead blinks, and then gives me a curious smile.

"Sorry," he says. His voice is warm but rough. "Didn't mean to be rude."

"Uh-huh," I reply, already reaching for a cup. "What can I get you?"

They order simply. Black coffee, no sugar, no fuss. As I make their drinks, I can feel them watching. Tracking the way I move, assessing me like they're trying to solve a puzzle.

The presence inside me stirs uneasily. "Careful," it murmurs.

I slide the cups across the counter, making sure our fingers don't touch, but the space between us hums. The blonde man's gaze sharpens, just for a second, and the redhead cocks his head as he studies me again.

Then he nods. "Thanks."

They sit at a table near the window. Close enough that I can feel them even when I turn my back. I don't know what they are, but I know they aren't human.

They don't speak to me again or come back that day. Which, annoyingly, makes me think about them far more than I'd like.

That night, in my tiny rented room above a closed-down bookshop, I lay awake staring at the ceiling while rain taps softly against the window.

It's been eight months since I ran. Since I left Paige, her too-bright eyes full of worry and love. Since I walked away from Leo's quiet steadiness and Jake's crooked grin before either of them could complete the mate bond with me. Before fate could tighten its grip on my life.

I curl onto my side and press my fist to my chest.

"I'm fine," I whisper into the dark. "I'm safe. I'm free."

The silence answers back with a low, hungry hum as I drift off to sleep.

The next morning, the non-human blonde and redhead are back, and this time they've brought friends. I know before I see them. The pressure tightens, and my heart starts doing that stupid, traitorous thing again.

When I look up, my breath catches. There are four men this time. The two from yesterday... and two more. Tall, broad-shouldered, golden-haired, blue-eyed and completely identical. Twins... smiling like they know secrets I don't. My pulse jumps hard enough to make me dizzy.

"Oh," the voice purrs. "Those are important."

"I don't care," I mutter automatically, grabbing a cloth and pretending to clean.

"What?" my coworker asks.

"Nothing," I say quickly. "Internal monologue."

She squints at me. "You know people think you're weird, right?"

"People also think socks with sandals are acceptable," I reply. "I refuse to be judged by those standards."

The twins take a table in the centre of the shop. They don't even try to hide their attention. Every time I move, their eyes follow. Every laugh I force, every annoyed sigh, every accidental brush of hair behind my ear.

"Keep being weird, Poppy, it's bringing in new customers apparently," my coworker says, nodding towards the imposing guys in the centre of the room.

"What makes you think they're here for me?" I ask, following her gaze.

When one of them smiles at me, my heart does a stupid little flip. I hate it. The presence presses closer, heavier now with an excited anticipation that does nothing to calm my nerves.

My coworker snorts a laugh. "Because they've not taken their eyes off you since the moment they walked in here."

"I'm sure it's..." I trail off as I glance towards the twins again, and when my eyes meet one of theirs, I see it... gold. It's just a flicker. Barely there, but I see it. My stomach drops.

Well, that explains the whole predator thing. They're werewolves, of course they are.

I keep my face neutral and my movements steady. Years of surviving on sarcasm and stubbornness have trained me well. I know it's only a matter of time, but the twins don't approach, not yet. They wait.

When my break finally comes, I duck into the back room and press my palms and forehead against the cool wall, breathing hard.

"Absolutely not," I whisper. "I am not doing this again yet, I'm not ready to let the crazy back in."

"You can't hide forever," the voice says gently.

"I can try."

A knock sounds on the door, and I stiffen.

"Poppy," a male voice calls softly, his voice like velvet. It's one of the twins. I know without looking.

How the hell does he know my name? Did my sister send them to bring me home? Has she finally reached her limit? Has something happened?

"Or maybe it's the name tag on your shirt?" The voice in my head answers sarcastically.

I square my shoulders, let out a breath and plaster a smile on my face before I open the door. He stands there, close enough that I can feel the heat rolling off him. His gaze is intense but not aggressive; it's curious.

He inhales slowly and deeply, and his eyes close. When he opens them again, they're burning gold.

"What are you?" he asks quietly.

I say nothing, because even if I wanted to tell him, I honestly don't have an answer.

** Alaric's POV **

The problem with being an Alpha in 2026 is that you can no longer pretend politics don't exist. You can't just patrol your borders, snap a few necks, and call it leadership. Now it's all diplomacy and meetings, and not even the exciting ones where there's the potential of a fight breaking out, or finding your fated mate whilst visiting another pack. Now they're all virtual.

The sound of pups playing outside filters through to the meeting room, and I let it wash over me. It's them I'm doing this for, to keep them safe, to give them a future that doesn't involve fighting just to stay alive. I want them to live, not just survive.

A glowing screen of boxes filled with faces stares back at me from the tablet propped on my desk. Each square holds an Alpha or Beta from a pack that used to circle ours like sharks. Some of them still do, if I'm being honest. They're just doing it with better manners lately.

Bastian sits beside me, shoulder to shoulder, his arms folded, and his expression hard. He may be my twin, but in some ways we are worlds apart.

On the screen there's an Alpha with a scar down his cheek, talking, his voice crackling slightly with the connection.

"It's not just that the hunters have gone quiet," he said. "It's how they've gone quiet. It's as if something's spooked them."

A low murmur runs through the call.

I lean back in my chair. "You're suggesting they're regrouping?"

"I'm suggesting they're watching," another Alpha snaps. "I think they're waiting for an opening."

"The opening was always us," I say calmly. "One pack against another. The moment Phoenix, River, and Midnight stopped working against each other and started sharing territory, intel, and resources... the hunters stopped getting easy wins."

A few of the faces shift, some looking thoughtful, some reluctant, and some pissed.

Bastian's voice cut in. "It's proof."

Silence.

Then an older Alpha on the bottom row speaks, his tone curious. "Proof of what?"

Bastian's jaw tightens. "That uniting all packs is the only way forward."

There it is, the real point of this.

I watch the reactions. A flicker of agreement from two. Suspicion from three. A sneer from one Alpha who likes to pretend he's not one attack away from losing his borders entirely.

I keep my tone smooth. "We've spent decades fighting each other because it suited the old rules. The hunters adapted. We didn't. Phoenix, River, and Midnight just proved what happens when we stop playing by the old rules."

"Or what happens when you let a goddess into the mix," someone counters.

There's a beat of tension, and Bastian's eyes narrow. "Rumours."

I don't correct him, not here, not on this call. Because I'd heard them too. The Luna of Phoenix. The one who burned silver and gold and healed wolves from the inside out.

I've never met her, but the stories had even made their way here, to Mountain Ridge, and I've learned that stories have a habit of becoming truths.

The meeting drags on for another half hour, filled with strategy and uneasy agreements and the subtle flares of power that came with any attempt at unity. When it finally ends, I shut the tablet off with more relief than I care to admit.

Bastian stands from his chair beside me, already pulling off his shirt. "Run?"

"Please," I sigh, pushing away from the table. "If I have to look at one more pixelated Alpha pretending his Wi-Fi isn't the issue, I'll start a war out of spite."

Bastian snorts a laugh, which is the closest thing to real laughter he ever does.

We're halfway out of the lodge when two of our wolves, Jude and Shay, step into our path, both still in human form but oozing with the restless energy of a shift too close to the surface.

Jude is one of our best trackers, broad-shouldered, dark-eyed, always too observant for his own good. Shay is smaller, sharper, with a mouth that runs almost as fast as his wolf. Both of them looked keyed up. That's never a good sign.

Bastian pauses. "What's up?"

Shay doesn't bother with a greeting. "We went into town."

Jude shoots him a look, like, 'I told you not to lead with that,' then turns to me. "We heard something about the new girl at the coffee shop."

Bastian frowns. "The crazy one that talks to herself?"

"Yeah," Shay smirks. "Crazy coffee girl, except... she's not crazy."

My wolf stirs at that, faint but curious. "Explain."

Jude takes a breath. "People have been whispering for weeks about her talking to herself, about how she looks like she's listening to something no one else can hear."

"That's not exactly rare," Bastian says. "Half the humans in town talk to themselves."

Shay's eyes flash with his wolf. "This is different."

Jude nods once. "We watched her closely."

"And?" I ask, keeping my voice calm, even as my wolf becomes more alert with every word spoken.

"She's not human," Shay says. "But she's not a wolf or a witch either."

Jude's gaze holds mine. "We've never smelled anything like her. There's... something under her skin. It smells dark and electric somehow. Like..." He hesitates, searching for the right words. "Like she belongs to another world."

Bastian's expression shifts, interest flashing through his usual stone. "Did she notice you?"

Shay grimaces. "Not at first."

"Then she did, and it was like she'd been pretending not to see us," Jude frowns.

A warning prickles at the base of my skull. It's not fear as such, more like awareness.

"Did you approach her?" I ask.

"No," Jude says quickly. "It didn't feel wise; we thought it was best that we leave that to you."

Bastian's gaze snaps to me. A silent conversation passes between us, one we've been having since we were old enough to shift and a witch friend of our mother gave us a blessing... or a warning.

Her eyes had glazed over as she placed a hand on each of our heads.

"Unknown threat. Unknown power. Don't ignore it," she had muttered before her eyes returned to normal and she smiled as if nothing had happened.

I exhale slowly and nod. "We will go tomorrow."

Shay's shoulders relax and Jude nods once, satisfied.

Bastian turns toward the woods, already kicking off his boots. "If she's trouble, we'll know."

I follow him into the trees, but my mind doesn't fully come with me. Mountain Ridge doesn't get surprises. We are the pack other packs avoid. The ones who occupy the higher land and the old mountain passes. The ones who never needed alliances to survive, yet lately the world has been shifting under all of us.

Hunter groups vanishing. Packs uniting. Rumours of goddesses and resurrected wolves, and magic that feels older than the moon. And now a strange girl in a coffee shop, marked by something our wolves can't name.

My wolf paces with anticipation; he senses the change coming.

When morning comes, I tell myself it is a simple recon mission. Bastian and I don't need theatrics. We don't need a parade of pack members or a show of power. We'll go in, observe, and then leave. That is the plan.

This plan lasts exactly three seconds. The bell above the coffee shop door chimes, and she looks up, and I'm done for.

I'd expected... I didn't know what I'd expected. Someone unsettling, someone strange, someone who might look wrong in a way humans couldn't see, but we could.

Instead, I find myself staring at a woman with a mouth made for trouble and eyes that look like they'd seen too much for someone her age.

She is wiping down the counter, pretending she hasn't noticed us even as her entire body goes still. Her scent hits me, overpowering the bitter coffee and sweet syrups. My lungs stall. It's not floral or sweet, or anything so simple. It's like the night air before rain, and something else beneath it. Something I can't place. Something that makes my wolf slam into the front of my mind in a way he never has before, like he has been waiting for her this whole time with one clear word ringing out... Mine!

** Bastian's POV **

By the time Alaric and I step into town, I already know this isn't going to be simple. Not because of the rumours. There are always rumours, half of them nonsense, the other half warnings people ignore until it's too late.

I know because Jude and Shay don't exaggerate, ever. When Jude tells you something feels wrong, you listen. When Shay tells you something feels interesting, you prepare. And when they both say the same girl doesn't smell human, wolf, or witch?... You go see for yourself.

The coffee shop looks harmless enough. Bright windows and soft chatter. Humans packed together with their caffeine addictions and their blissful ignorance of our existence. This is the kind of place nothing supernatural should ever touch.

I clock her immediately, not because she looks up, but because Alaric stops breathing. It's so subtle that anyone else would miss it. Just a fraction of a second where his chest doesn't rise, where his shoulders lock like his body is bracing for impact. I follow his gaze.

She's behind the counter, wiping it down with exaggerated focus, pretending she hasn't noticed us even though her entire body has gone tense. Interesting.

Her scent reaches me a heartbeat later, mixing with the smell of coffee and sweet syrup. It smells powerful, charged with an electric heat that makes my wolf still instead of surge. That alone tells me she's dangerous.

I glance sideways at Alaric. His eyes have darkened, gold flickering behind them like fire. That's bad, very bad, because Alaric doesn't react like this. He doesn't let instinct overpower logic. He doesn't lock onto strangers in public places like the world just narrowed down to that single person, and yet... here we are.

"She's pretending not to see us," I murmur quietly.

"I know," he replies, his voice tight.

Which means he's already deeper in this than he should be.

We don't approach right away; instead, we take a table and observe. We do what Alphas are supposed to do when faced with something unknown so close to our territory.

She works like she's wound too tight, her movements stiff, her smile forced, and eyes flicking up just often enough to track where we are without looking like she's staring. There's humour in her and a streak of defiance. I can see it even from here.

Then the other server, who I hadn't even noticed until now, says something I don't catch, and they both look at us. I don't miss the way her eyes widen a fraction as they meet mine. She knows what I am. My wolf tilts its head. Crazy coffee girl isn't so crazy after all. She's definitely something, but it's not crazy.

My eyes track her as she disappears into the back room, muttering something about break time. Alaric doesn't hesitate, he stands. I'm on my feet immediately, but he lifts a hand without looking at me, silently telling me to stay.

I almost ignore him, but the look on his face isn't reckless, it's full of intent. He's focused, like he knows exactly what he's doing, even if I don't like it. So I sit back down and watch the hallway. The seconds stretch, and my wolf paces, uneasy but not panicked.

Then it happens. It's not a sound as such, more of a shift. The pressure changes in the air, and then Alaric stumbles back into the main shop. He doesn't fall or crash into anything, but he comes out of that hallway looking like someone hit him square in the chest with something invisible. My stomach drops.

He doesn't even look at me as he moves toward the door. "She ran out the back door," he says.

Not she left... She ran; that distinction matters. I'm moving before I can think better of it. We hit the street just in time to see her disappear around the corner, her hair flying behind her, panic rolling off her in waves that I can feel from here.

Alaric takes one step after her, then stops. Two wolves stand between us and the direction she fled. They're not Mountain Ridge, and not any I recognise from River Pack. They're definitely not local and they feel wrong in a way that sets my instincts on edge. Their eyes hold a strange light, not the gold of a wolf or the silver shimmer of a witch; it's something in between, metallic and moonlit. My wolf doesn't rise, though. It stills. That's when I know they're dangerous.

"Stop," one of them says calmly.

I step half a pace in front of Alaric without making it obvious. "Who are you?"

"Phoenix Pack," the other replies.

Of course they are. The pack every Alpha is suddenly talking about. The pack tied to the goddess rumours, and whose territory hunters seem to avoid as if it's cursed ground.

"We're here for her," the first one says. "We have not stepped foot into your territory, and don't plan to, unless she does."

Alaric's jaw tightens. "She's under your protection?"

"She is."

I watch my twin carefully. His hands flex, his shoulders tense, and his wolf presses hard against his control, wanting to run, to chase, to claim. He doesn't.

"And who exactly is she to the Phoenix pack?" I ask.

The pair look at each other for a brief second before turning back to us.

"She's the sister of our Luna."

That lands heavily. I don't look at Alaric, I don't need to. I can feel the moment the realisations sink in.

The goddess rumours, the healed wolves. The way the balance of power has shifted since Phoenix stopped playing by the old rules, and now her. A girl hiding in a coffee shop.

Alaric's voice comes out controlled, but strained. "We mean her no harm."

"Curiosity can become harmful when you pursue someone who's running," the Phoenix wolf replies too calmly.

"I didn't touch her," Alaric snaps. "She touched me."

"She's frightened," the Phoenix wolf continues. "And she doesn't want to be found."

"I understand running," Alaric says, his eyes fixed on where the crazy coffee girl had vanished.

For a second, everything goes quiet, then the Phoenix wolf nods once. "Then let her."

"And if we don't?" I ask coolly.

"That," he says, "would be a mistake."

He doesn't say it like a threat; it's more like a fact. They step back, then melt into the passersby as if they were never there. Alaric doesn't move, he just continues to stare down the street where her scent is already fading, his jaw tight and eyes burning.

"What happened back there?" I ask quietly.

"I asked what she was," he says.

"And?"

"She didn't answer. She pushed past me," he sighs. "She looked scared of what would happen if she stayed."

And there it is. Not fear of him, but fear of being seen. Fear of being claimed, because she senses the pull that none of us have admitted out loud yet. My wolf shifts, uneasy.

"We have a chosen mate arriving next week," I remind him gently.

He flinches.

"I know," he says, but his eyes don't leave the street.

That's when I fully understand the truth of it. This isn't just attraction or curiosity. This is fate rearing its head in the most inconvenient, destabilising way possible. Fate doesn't care what we've promised other packs.

I clap a hand on Alaric's shoulder, grounding him.

"We'll handle this," I say. "Carefully."

He finally looks at me, and in his eyes, I see it. It's not acceptance, or a decision, but something far worse... Hope, and that, more than anything, tells me we're in trouble. Hope is dangerous. I've seen packs fall apart because an Alpha started believing the world might bend for him. Because he thought one impossible thing mattered more than the hundred lives depending on his restraint.

Mountain Ridge doesn't survive on hope. We survive on preparation, boundaries, and knowing when to draw the line.

As we turn back toward the mountain, I make a quiet decision. I'll give Alaric space to breathe, to steady himself and remember who he is beyond instinct, but I won't leave this to chance. I'll speak to Jude and Shay again. I'll start digging into Phoenix, into their Luna, into what kind of power needs guarding like that, and if fate really has set its sights on me and my brother?... Then I'll make damn sure it doesn't take Mountain Ridge down with us.