The sun was warm that Friday morning, painting the Stonefang Pack's valley in shades of gold. Dew clung stubbornly to blades of grass, catching the light like tiny diamonds. Birds chirped in the distance, but Althea Graybrook's ears picked up something else—farther away, the rhythmic pounding of paws against dirt, a hunting party returning from patrol. Her sharpened senses always caught more than most of her classmates.
You're listening again instead of hurrying to school, her wolf, Nyra, teased inside her mind. Nyra's voice was deeper, richer—like warm honey with a hint of a wild growl.
"I'm not late," Althea muttered under her breath, adjusting her worn backpack. She walked along the stone-paved path that cut through the pack's bustling heart and toward the Academy gates. Wolves in human form moved all around her—mothers with toddlers tugging at their skirts, warriors on their way to training, and shopkeepers lifting wooden shutters as they opened their stalls. The valley always felt alive, humming with energy, but Althea often felt like a ghost wandering among it all.
A sleek blue SUV rolled up beside her, its tires crunching over gravel. The tinted window hummed as it slid down, revealing a grinning boy with sandy hair and an easygoing smile.
"Aye, Althea, hop in!" Rodney called. He was a Gamma's son, broad-shouldered but softer in temperament, one of the few wolves who didn't treat her like dirt for being an omega.
Althea hesitated only for a heartbeat—long enough for Nyra to start whining. Just get in. My paws are tired already and we haven't even shifted.
Suppressing a laugh, she opened the door and climbed in.
The car smelled faintly of pine and leather, with traces of wolf musk from too many pack teenagers packed inside. A few others rode with them, including her best friend, Elara. Elara's curls framed her heart-shaped face, her hazel eyes lighting up as soon as she spotted Althea.
"Althea!" Elara squealed, tugging her into a hug despite the cramped space. "You took forever!"
"I was walking," Althea said sheepishly.
"Well, next time, call me! You know I'd pick you up." Elara gave her that mock stern look that melted into a grin.
They chatted the entire ride, voices overlapping with jokes and laughter. When the SUV pulled up in front of the Academy—a sprawling three-story building with banners bearing the pack crest—students were already milling about, some in groups, some shifting into their wolf forms for morning training.
The moment they stepped inside the halls, Elara gasped and tugged on Althea's sleeve.
"Oh my goddess, look!" she whispered fiercely.
Althea turned—and her stomach did a foolish flip. Striding down the hall like it already belonged to him was Xander Hale, the Alpha's nephew. His golden eyes carried that natural dominance that made every wolf instinctively glance his way, shoulders squaring in subtle submission. Broad-shouldered, confident, his presence seemed to thrum through the hall like a silent command.
Althea's heart betrayed her with a faster beat.
Nyra snorted. You're staring again. I swear, if you drool—
"Shut it," Althea muttered under her breath.
Elara leaned closer, her hazel eyes sparkling. "When are you going to tell him about your feelings?"
Before she could finish, Althea slapped a hand over her friend's mouth, heat rising to her cheeks. "Quiet. I'll tell him when the time's right."
Truth was, she knew the truth all too well—Xander already had a girlfriend. Clara, Beta-born, stunning, leader of the cheer squad, and the kind of wolf who never let Althea forget her place as an omega.
The morning dragged on with lessons she barely absorbed. By the time the lunch bell rang, Althea and Elara sat at their usual table with their group of friends. The cafeteria smelled of fresh bread and tomato sauce, and trays clattered as wolves grabbed their food.
"What's for lunch today?" Jamie, a lean warrior-in-training, asked as he set down his tray.
"Spaghetti and meatballs," Elara answered, grinning as she twirled noodles with her fork.
They were still laughing when a sudden hush rippled across the cafeteria. Heads turned, whispers rose. Xander had entered with Clara clinging to his arm, her lips painted red, her smile triumphant.
Althea forced her eyes to stay on her plate, though Nyra hummed knowingly. He smells good even from here. Want me to imagine what he'd smell like up close?
"Don't you dare," Althea muttered, stabbing her meatball harder than necessary.
The rest of the day blurred past until the final bell rang across the courtyard. Students spilled out in clusters, some shifting seamlessly into fur, paws hitting the earth as they raced toward training or home. Elara squeezed Althea's hand before parting ways, promising to call later.
---
GRAYBROOK HOUSE
The atmosphere was heavier. Althea found her mother watching the news broadcast, her face tense.
"—Anastasia Jones, age fourteen, has been missing since Tuesday," the reporter said grimly. "Witnesses claim she was last seen near the forest border before two unidentified wolves forced her into a black van. This marks the twentieth young she-wolf gone missing in the last month."
Althea's mother shook her head. "Moon help us. That's the twentieth girl this month."
"Why would anyone do that?" Mara, Althea's younger sister, asked softly.
"Some are taken by rogue packs and sold to the Black Market," their mother said grimly. "Others… are sold as breeding slaves."
Nyra growled low in Althea's mind. I'd tear their throats out.
Their mother turned to Althea, her tone suddenly firm. "I need to speak with you privately."
In the bedroom, her expression softened. "Althea… are you still untouched?"
Althea's jaw dropped. "Mother! Of course I am!"
Her mother exhaled with relief. "Good. Protect that until your true mate claims you. And be careful. Even in our own territory, danger can slip in."
Before Althea could reply, her phone buzzed. Elara's excited voice burst through the speaker.
"Bestie! I have $100. Come with me to L.O.L.!"
"What's that?"
"Land of Licorice! Ten pounds of candy heaven! Meet me by the hotdog stand."
After getting reluctant permission from her mother, Althea set off.
---
L.O.L. was a paradise of sugar. Rows of jars sparkled with colorful candies, trays overflowed with chocolate eggs, and piles of gummy worms towered like mountains.
"Elara, is that all you're buying?" Althea asked, staring at the bag stuffed with gummy worms.
"They're my babies," Elara replied with her mouth full.
Loaded with bags, they wandered to the public park, settling on a bench beneath the shade of tall oaks. They talked about dreams—Elara wanted to be a chef, Althea a healer. Their laughter carried on the wind until the sun began to dip low.
"Let's promise something," Elara said suddenly, her voice earnest. "No matter where life takes us, we'll always find each other again."
Althea smiled and hugged her. "I promise."
The promise still warmed her when her phone buzzed again—her mother, urging her to hurry home before dark.
She ended the call, laughing at Elara's teasing about Xander… when a low growl split the air.
Nyra's voice sharpened instantly. Danger. To the left.
A black van screeched around the corner, its tires spitting gravel. The stench of rogues hit Althea's nose—unwashed fur, stale blood, and fury.
Before she could react, a massive rogue in human form lunged, slamming a cloth over her mouth. A bitter-sweet scent of wolfsbane burned her lungs, making her vision blur.
"Althea!" Elara screamed before another rogue dragged her back.
Althea kicked, clawed, Nyra roaring inside her mind, but the drug-laced scent was too strong. Her limbs turned heavy, her vision darkened.
The last thing she saw before the world collapsed into blackness was the van's door slamming shut—and Elara's terrified eyes.