Author Note: The first two chapters have had a complete overhaul, for a better reading experience. Please enjoy. [May 28, 2024]
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What are you supposed to do when your pack—your family—has decided you're worthless?
Get a job.
Save money.
Dream of getting the hell out of there.
It's a futile thing to hope for, but it's the only thing I have that keeps me going.
Until then? I'm just me. Ava Grey. Wolfless. Weak. The shame of the Grey family.
Which is why I'm spending another Friday night working at Beaniverse, a popular coffeeshop in the middle of White Peak, a solid hour's drive away from pack land. No shifters, no drama, no bullying; the only people I run into all day are humans with a caffeine addiction. Or social media addictions. People love to use our lobby as a backdrop for their latest reel.
"Come out with me tonight."
Lisa pops her head into my field of view as I wipe down the espresso machine.
I have no major attachments to my job outside of my pay, but it is my favorite place to be because of her. Lisa is my best friend—okay, my only friend—and she makes me dream of something more than the Blackwood Pack and my uncertain future in it.
"Can't. Dad wants me home as soon as I can."
The grimace that twists her face gives me a warm little tingle in my chest. At least someone gets me.
Even if she's a human and has no idea that I come from a family of wolves.
Dad—our pack beta and an expert at curt text messages demanding my presence home—only allowed me to get a job because he was tired of seeing me at home, I'm pretty sure.
And because every single cent of my paychecks that didn't go to gas went to the thousand dollars I'd borrowed for my beat-up old clunker Taurus in the parking lot. It's my baby, and I love it, but I'm one weird splutter away from wrecking on the highway.
Still—the little freedom it allows me is worth it.
Anything is better than being home.
"You should just move out. We can get an apartment together and party all night." Lisa says this just about every day we work together, and it never grows old. I want that life, too. I don't even need the partying. I just want to get away from my pack.
But wolf shifters don't just let go of their own. Even wolfless defects like me.
I shove my glasses up the bridge of my nose, hating how they slide. I probably need a new prescription, but I haven't had the time—or extra money—to pour into that. I'm still wearing the same glasses Mom got me (much to her disgust) several years ago.
It's like a neon sign saying she doesn't belong with us.
No shifter has bad eyesight. It's like a gift from our wolves.
Only I don't have a wolf.
I flick the dirty towel in her direction, watching her squeal and jump back. "I would if I could, and you know it. Aren't you supposed to be restocking our cups? Our dinner rush is going to come in any minute."
"Fine, fine—but I still think one night of telling him to fuck off won't hurt. Maybe it'll teach your parents that you're an adult and they can't control you."
Hah.
That won't ever happen.
Dad's the pack beta. Even if he acknowledged me as an independent adult, I'd still have to do what he says. The only person above him in the pack is our alpha—also not someone I'd like to cross on a daily basis.
"It's a cultural thing," I mutter, and she drops it. For now.
Lisa will come back to it. She always does. She's been showing me apartments for rent, coming up with mock budgets, even discussing our school schedules. Lisa's pushy in the sweetest way, where she's just desperate for me to become independent.
She was the first person to notice the control my family has over me.
The first person to care.
The first person to say words that I still can't admit out loud.
"Your family is abusive. Who the hell does this?"
My family loved me once. Before I came of age and they realized I had no wolf at all.
I have warm memories. Sweet memories. Memories that I bring out at night during my lowest times. Memories of Mom when she used to smile and laugh and rock me when I cried. Memories of Dad when he would throw me onto his shoulders and tell me I could reach the stars. Memories of Jessa and Phoenix when they would call me their baby sister, and show me off proudly to anyone they saw.
Good times.
Gone times.
Maybe it would hurt a little less if I hadn't shared that affection with them once. Maybe it would hurt a little less if it hadn't simply… disappeared. If Mom's blue eyes hadn't gone from warm like a lake in summer to frigid winter skies. If Dad hadn't thrown me into the woods with no clothes, no food, and no shelter, telling me to survive. That the hardship would bring me what I wanted most, what I was missing.
My wolf.
Spoiler alert—it didn't work. He's still mad about it.
* * *
Leaving work is always a little production in the parking lot after closing. Lisa never leaves until I'm safely on the road, half in worry that my car will break down (and honestly, I have the same fears), and the other half because she's concerned I'm going to get mugged.
When I pointed out to her months ago that she could have the same things happen, she grabbed my hand and said seriously, "You would help me. So I'm going to help you."
I love her.
There's a little guilt that even with my one and only friend, my ride-or-die girl, I have yet to admit that I'm a shifter. I haven't explained to her that I'm from the local pack.
She just thinks I'm neglected and abused from a normal human family, and I have to convince her not to call the cops at least twice a week. Especially when I show up with new bruises.
They wouldn't be able to do anything, anyway.
The pack has different laws. No part of the government would interfere in pack matters.
Honestly, the only way to guarantee my escape from my family and pack is to find my fated mate in another. I dream about it—we all do. It's a fantasy I can't let go of.
But sometimes it hurts to even think about the possibility, because there's always the chance that I have no fated mate.
Or worse, that my life in a new pack is just like my life here.
The night air is warmer than usual for the beginning of spring, but the crisp scent of rain is carried on the breeze, telling us all that a temperature drop is coming.
The scenery changes from the bright, artificially lit business strip to the quiet neighborhoods of White Peak, occasionally lit by a street lamp every block or so. Eventually, those buildings give way to an unlit rural road that leads into the Blackwood Pack territory.
The road is familiar; I've driven it countless times in my life, but tonight, it feels different.
It's darker than usual, under the waxing crescent moon. The trees seem to close in on me, casting long shadows across the road. My grip tightens on the steering wheel as I navigate the twists and turns, feeling my anxiety wriggle about in my belly, like a fish dashing about in shark-infested waters.
The silence in my car is palpable, almost suffocating. My eyes dart to the rearview mirror every few seconds, half expecting to see glowing eyes or shadows lurking in the darkness behind me.
Being the pack defect means you're also the pack punching bag. One of the young wolves' favorite pastimes is hunting the wolfless.
They can't go after humans. The only time the government can threaten our sanctuary is when we've harmed humans.
But they can go after the next best thing.
Me.
A shudder rips down my spine and through my arms, a familiar reaction to the memories floating through my head, of the pain my body remembers.
My hands jerk on the wheel as a hulking form dashes across the streak of my high beams.
"Shit!"
I slam on the brakes, my car fishtailing on the dark road. Tires squeal against pavement. The stench of burning rubber floods my nose. My head whips forward, slamming into the steering wheel as the car spins to a stop.
"Fuck..."
I groan, squeezing my eyes shut against the throbbing pain in my skull. Stars burst behind my eyelids. The coppery taste of blood fills my mouth.
I must have bitten my tongue.
Shit. They usually wait until I'm home to corner me. Fucking with me on the road so blatantly is new.
My hands shake as I peer out the cracked windshield. The road ahead is empty. No sign of whatever ran in front of my car.
There's about zero percent chance it's anyone other than a Blackwood wolf.
I swallow hard, my heart pounding against my ribs. I need to get home.
At least that way, even if I'm beaten to within an inch of my life, Mom and Dad will call a healer when it gets too bad. They've done it before.
Probably because they don't want to lose their live-in maid, but I like to think it's because they care at least a little bit.
I need to get out of here. Now. Before they come back.
I reach for the keys, still dangling from the ignition. Pain lances through my right wrist and I hiss, cradling it to my chest. Must have sprained it in the crash. Fuck.
Gritting my teeth, I use my left hand to turn the key. The engine sputters and dies. I try again. And again. Each time, I'm met with that same pathetic whine.
"No no no, come on..." Desperation bleeds into my voice. "Please..."
I glance in the rearview mirror, half expecting glowing eyes to materialize out of the darkness. My breathing turns ragged, panic squeezing my lungs.
I'm a sitting duck out here. A rabbit cowering in the open, just waiting for the wolves' jaws to close around me.
The snap of a branch breaking has me flinching, a whimper escaping my throat. I turn slowly, dread churning in my gut as I peer out the driver's side window.
That's when I see them. Two pinpricks of eerie yellow light, hovering at the edge of the trees.
Watching me.
The eyes stalk me from the shadows, unblinking. Unwavering.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
My hands tremble as I turn the key again. The engine sputters, coughs. Please. Please start. I can't die here. Not like this.
Another turn. A whine. A sputter.
The wolf steps out from the tree line, massive and menacing. Its fur blends with the night, a specter of death and torment.
I can't make out any distinguishing features in the darkness. No way to know which of my abusers has come for me tonight.
The engine roars to life. Thank God.
I slam my foot on the accelerator, tires screeching against pavement as I peel off down the road. My heart hammers against my ribs, blood rushing in my ears.
In the rearview mirror, I can see the wolf chasing me. Keeping pace with my car as I navigate the winding roads.
He howls, a promise of pain.
It's all a familiar, sick game. I hate it. I never know when it's coming; when someone's bored enough to begin.
It never ends well though. Not for me.
The streets of my neighborhood come into view. Mom and Dad won't save me, even if I'm being slaughtered in the front yard—but if I can make it inside, that's a different story.
No one disrespects the beta's home.
I whip into an awful parallel parking job, the car jerking to a stop. My hands shake as I fumble for my keys, dropping them twice before I manage to grab them.
I just need to get inside.
Throwing open the car door, I stagger out on trembling legs. The keys jangle in my grip as I stumble towards the front door.
Almost there. Almost—
I can smell wet fur. And rage.
I spin around, keys clenched between white knuckles. My heart stops.
The wolf stands mere feet away, lips curled back in a snarl. Saliva drips from dagger-like fangs. His russet fur tells me everything I need to know about his identity.
Todd.
He loves to torment me and always has.
But he just watches as I grab the door from behind my back, turn, and rush inside.
Tonight is a reprieve; I'll take it.
Locking the door behind me, I take a moment to lament the damage to my car. I have no idea how much it will cost to repair my cracked windshield; it'll eat into the savings I've been painstakingly gathering.
Damn it.
"Ava. Come here."
Ugh. Straightening my shoulders, I walk toward my parents, worried butterflies floating around in my stomach.
Dad, of course, says nothing about the wolf outside. He doesn't give a shit. He knows exactly what they do to me; as long as it isn't in his eyesight, where he has to deal with it, he won't say a word.
Dad is seated in his favorite armchair, his expression stoic as always. Mom stands behind him, her disapproving stare leveled over my shoulder. I can't remember the last time we had eye contact outside of being dressed down.
I bow my head as I enter the room, focusing my gaze on his muddy boots.
I don't bother greeting him with words. All he wants to see is my submission. Words are a waste of time coming from the lowest ranking member of our pack.
None of them say a word as I cradle my wrist; they're blind to any injuries or illness I suffer.
He clears his throat. "You will be attending the Lunar Gala this year. I trust you have enough money from your… job to be properly dressed for the occasion. Be grateful that our Alpha allowed you such a luxury."
My hands tingle with shock, and cold breezes straight through my limbs, shoving past all that anxiety to settle straight into my brain. What?
My heart skips a beat, thuds a little harder, and then skips another. The Lunar Gala. I've missed out on it for the past two years.
The gala is a big deal, encompassing the Northwestern Territories. Unmated wolves from all over will be there, hoping to find their fated mates.
Technically, the gala is a way to unwind after the Northwestern Council meets and talks all their pack politics—but in reality, the Lunar Gala is more of a matchmaking ball. Alliances are made when high-ranking shifters mate into other packs, and new blood is brought in.
It's strange for the Blackwood Pack to attend this year. Even Jessa hasn't been to one; historically, our entire pack avoids it. The official story is that there's bad blood between a few alphas and ours, but I doubt the other packs are the problem.
Dad's irritation at having to attend is a palpable force in the room, and I risk a quick glance upward. He's looking over my head, not even straight at me, like I'm beneath his notice.
His nose wrinkles as though some offensive odor came through, but of course there's nothing. Just me. "Phoenix and Jessa will be there, so make sure to present yourself without disgrace."
And just like that, he leaves. No more explanations. Just a beta throwing out his orders and expecting everything to fall into place.
I fight to keep my expression neutral, but inside, I'm buzzing with excitement at the idea of leaving this place even if it's only for a night.
The Lunar Gala is a chance to escape, to breathe outside of this stifling pack dynamic. But I know better than to show my true feelings.
Mom steps forward then, her voice causing goosebumps to erupt all over my arms. The back of my neck prickles at the force of her disregard.
"At least try not to act like a complete pariah, Ava," she says at last, as though it's hard for her to figure out what to say at all.
I stare down at my shoes, fighting against the urge to step closer to the jasmine and honey fragrance she wore. So much of me just wants to be enveloped in it like I had been in my childhood, back when I had a mother who embraced me and spoke lovingly in my ears.
"Of course," I respond, my voice smaller than a mouse. Her distance hurts so much more than Dad's. "I'll act appropriately." It sounds like they're interested in Phoenix and Jessa making a match.
Not me, of course.
I have no idea why I'm going, but I have the feeling it's nothing more than a PR stunt.
Mom sighs, forcing a look of patience over her elegant face. She moves as if to pat my shoulder, but her hand never touches me—just hovers right above, close enough to feel the warmth of her body, but without partaking in it.
"Jessa will take you shopping. Do something with your hair. Get something nice. You have enough from that… coffeeshop, don't you?"
Of course. They would never spend the money on me.
"Yes, Mom."
She grimaces. "Don't get something cheap. Remember that you're representing our family. And for my sake, try to avoid bruises where anyone can see them. You'll make our pack look feral."
And that's it, before she's off in a swish of perfume and rejection.
Despite the usual torture of wishing for affection from the family who had loved me once, my heart races with anticipation. Excitement. Fear.
The Lunar Gala—a rare chance for me to experience something beyond this suffocating world.
Maybe I'll catch a glimpse of what life could be like outside the pack's iron grip. Maybe I'll mate with someone and leave here. Maybe everything will change.
Is it so bad to think that way?