POV: Desi Whitmore
The Southern Alliance summer gathering was supposed to be fun.
I stood on the manicured lawn of the Alpha's estate, watching the sunset paint the Georgia sky in shades of orange and gold, and tried to remember why I'd been looking forward to this event for weeks. Around me, pack members mingled in their finest clothes, trading gossip and political favors while waiters circulated with champagne and hors d'oeuvres.
Everything looked perfect on the surface.
Which meant I should have known something ugly was happening just out of sight.
"Desi!" My best friend Carolina waved from across the lawn. "Come meet the Harrison pack heirs. They're totally gorgeous."
I smiled and started toward her, but a sound stopped me. Laughter. The wrong kind. The cruel kind that made my skin prickle with warning.
I changed direction, following the noise toward the garden maze.
"Please, I didn't mean to..."
The voice was young. Scared. Male.
I rounded the hedge corner and froze.
Three Alpha heirs, all around seventeen or eighteen, had cornered a kid who couldn't have been more than thirteen. The boy's eyes were wide behind his glasses, his slight frame pressed against the hedge wall like he was trying to disappear into the leaves.
Omega. I could tell from his posture, the way he made himself small, the submissive tilt of his head.
"Didn't mean to what?" The tallest Alpha heir, Marcus Harrison, grabbed the kid's shirt. "Didn't mean to breathe our air? Didn't mean to exist in our space?"
"I was just getting water from the fountain," the boy whispered.
"This is the Alpha section." Another heir laughed. "Omegas use the service entrance."
My blood boiled.
"Hey!" I strode forward, my voice carrying across the garden. "What's going on here?"
All four heads turned. The Omega kid looked hopeful. The Alpha heirs looked annoyed.
"Nothing that concerns you, Whitmore," Marcus said dismissively. "Just teaching proper pack hierarchy."
"By terrorizing a child?" I stepped between them and the boy. "Real Alpha behavior there, Marcus."
His eyes flashed gold. "Watch your tone, Beta."
"Or what?" I crossed my arms. "You'll bully me too? That would look great for your family's reputation."
The other two heirs exchanged nervous glances. They knew exactly what I meant. The Whitmore family might be Beta, but we were connected to every major pack in the South through diplomatic ties. Insulting me was politically stupid.
"We were just having fun," Marcus tried. "Kid's too sensitive."
"No, you were being cruel." I turned to the Omega boy. "What's your name, honey?"
"Tommy," he managed. "Tommy Reeves."
"Tommy, go find your parents. Tell them Desi Whitmore said you're welcome in any section of this gathering."
He fled before the Alpha heirs could object.
Marcus stepped closer, using his height to intimidate. "You just humiliated me in front of my pack brothers."
"You humiliated yourself by picking on someone half your size." I held my ground. "And if you think terrorizing Omegas makes you strong, you're going to be a terrible Alpha someday."
"Listen, Beta..."
"No, you listen." I poked his chest, ignoring the warning growls from his friends. "Pack hierarchy doesn't give you permission to abuse people. It gives you responsibility to protect them. If you can't understand the difference, you have no business leading anyone."
"Is there a problem here?"
Thank God. Dad's voice cut through the tension like a blade.
Marcus stepped back immediately, recognition flashing across his face. Everyone in the Southern Alliance knew Beta Prime David Whitmore, second-in-command to the most powerful Alpha in the region.
"No problem, sir," Marcus said quickly. "Just a misunderstanding."
Dad's gaze swept over the scene, taking in everything with the sharp intelligence that had made him legendary in pack politics. His eyes landed on me, and I saw the slight smile he was suppressing.
"Marcus, your father is looking for you," Dad said mildly. "Something about discussing your behavior at the Alpha leadership academy."
Translation: I'm telling your dad you were bullying kids, and you're in trouble.
Marcus went pale. He and his friends disappeared quickly.
Once they were gone, Dad turned to me with raised eyebrows.
"Want to tell me what happened?"
I explained, watching his expression shift from concern to pride to something more complicated.
"You did the right thing," he said finally. "But you made enemies tonight."
"I made enemies by defending a child?"
"You made enemies by publicly challenging Alpha heirs." He sighed, running a hand through his graying hair. "Desi, your heart is in the right place. It always is. But lead with your heart, but think with your head. There are more sophisticated ways to create change."
My stomach sank. "You think I should have let them bully Tommy?"
"I think you could have handled it more diplomatically." He squeezed my shoulder. "Come on. Your mother wants to talk to you."
Mom was waiting in the Alpha's library, away from the party. She looked immaculate as always, her professional demeanor firmly in place. But when she saw me, her expression softened.
"Sit down, baby girl."
I sat in the leather chair across from her, feeling like I was about to get lectured despite doing the right thing.
"Your father told me what happened," she said. "I'm proud of you for standing up for that boy."
"But?"
"But three Alpha families have already complained to the host about your 'disruptive behavior.'" Mom's fingers made air quotes. "They're saying you disrespected pack hierarchy and need to be controlled."
"Controlled?" Heat flooded my cheeks. "I stopped them from traumatizing a kid."
"I know. And I agree with you completely." She leaned forward. "But knowledge is power, baby girl. Use it wisely. And right now, you need to know that your actions tonight have political consequences."
"So I should have done nothing?"
"You should have been strategic." Mom pulled out her tablet, showing me a carefully worded message. "This is how I would have handled it. Document the behavior. Report it to the proper authorities. Build a case that forces systematic change instead of confronting bullies in the moment."
I read her message. It was professional, thorough, completely effective.
And it would have left Tommy alone with his tormentors for who knows how long while the proper channels worked slowly.
"Sometimes people need help now," I said quietly. "Not after the bureaucracy processes their suffering."
Mom's expression flickered with something that looked like understanding mixed with frustration.
"You're right," she admitted. "And that's exactly why your father and I think you should attend Moonrise Academy."
I blinked. "What?"
"You have incredible leadership instincts," Dad said from the doorway. I hadn't heard him enter. "But you need to learn how to channel them effectively. Moonrise specializes in training future pack leaders. You could learn diplomatic strategies that let you create real change without making yourself a target."
"This sounds like I'm being punished for doing the right thing."
"This is us investing in your future," Mom corrected. "You want to change the supernatural world? Make it more equitable? You need the tools and connections to do that. Moonrise can provide both."
I studied their faces, looking for the trap. But all I saw was genuine support mixed with political pragmatism.
"What about the Alpha families who complained?" I asked.
"Let us handle them." Dad's smile turned sharp. "The Whitmore family has been mediating pack conflicts for three generations. We know how to make people understand their concerns are... misguided."
Translation: He was going to make them regret complaining about me while maintaining perfect diplomatic protocol.
"When would I leave?"
"Five days," Mom said. "If you agree. We would never force this, Desi. But we genuinely believe it's the best opportunity for you to develop your leadership potential."
I thought about Tommy's scared face. About Marcus's casual cruelty. About the dozens of other Omegas and weaker pack members who probably faced similar treatment every day.
If I wanted to change that system, I needed to understand it better. Work within it smarter. Build alliances with people who had real power.
"Okay," I said. "I'll go."
Mom's relief was visible. "You'll do amazing things there, baby girl. I know it."
Five days later, I stood in my bedroom, packing for Moonrise Academy while Mom supervised from the doorway.
"Don't forget your debate team trophies," she said. "They're good conversation starters."
"Mom, I'm not bringing trophies to boarding school."
"Fine. But bring the leadership books I bought you. And the contacts list for Southern Alliance families with students at Moonrise."
I folded another sweater, trying to ignore the nervous flutter in my stomach. This was supposed to be exciting. A fresh start. An opportunity to make a real difference.
So why did I feel like I was being sent away?
"Desi." Mom came to sit beside me on the bed. "Talk to me."
"What if I mess up there too?" The words tumbled out. "What if I make enemies instead of allies? What if I'm too much or not enough or..."
"Stop." She took my hands. "You are exactly enough. Your passion for justice is a gift, not a flaw. Moonrise will teach you to wield it effectively, that's all."
"The Alpha families here think I'm disruptive."
"The Alpha families here are threatened by a Beta girl who refuses to stay in her lane." Mom's smile turned fierce. "Good. Let them be uncomfortable. Change makes people uncomfortable."
I managed a weak laugh.
"But listen," she continued, her tone shifting serious. "At Moonrise, you'll meet wolves from all kinds of packs. Different values, different traditions, different perspectives. Some will challenge everything you believe. That's good. Let them."
"Even if they're wrong?"
"Especially if they're wrong." She squeezed my hands. "Because defending your beliefs against real opposition makes them stronger. And understanding why people disagree helps you find common ground."
"Very diplomatic, Mom."
"I'm a professional." She stood, pulling me up with her. "Come on. Your father wants to give you the traditional Whitmore Beta speech before we leave."
Dad was waiting in his study, surrounded by three generations of Whitmore family history. Photos of diplomats and mediators, certificates of achievement, letters from grateful pack leaders.
A lot to live up to.
"Sit," he said, gesturing to the chair across from his desk.
I sat.
He studied me for a long moment, his Beta Prime authority making me feel both protected and evaluated.
"You know why the Whitmore family has survived and thrived for so long?" he asked.
"Because we're excellent diplomats?"
"Because we pick our battles carefully." He leaned back. "Not every fight is worth having, Desi. Not every injustice requires public confrontation. Sometimes the best way to win is to appear to lose while quietly building the coalition that will eventually change everything."
"That sounds manipulative."
"That's politics." His smile was wry. "And if you want to create a more equitable supernatural society, you'll need to master it. Because the wolves who benefit from the current system won't give up power just because you're passionate and right."
"So what do I do?"
"Make allies. Build trust. Learn which battles matter and which are distractions." He pulled an envelope from his desk drawer. "This is a list of Beta families whose children attend Moonrise. Not political connections. Just kids who might understand what it's like to be caught between following your conscience and maintaining family expectations."
I took the envelope, touched by the thought he'd put into this.
"And Desi?" His voice softened. "When you do pick your battles, and I know you will, make sure they're worth the cost. Because standing up for what's right always has a price. Make sure you're willing to pay it."
"I am."
"I know." He came around the desk and pulled me into a hug. "That's what scares me. You're so much braver than I was at your age. Just promise me you'll be smart too."
"I promise to try."
The drive to Moonrise Academy took all day. By the time we pulled through the iron gates, twilight was painting the Gothic towers in shades of purple and gold.
It looked like something from a fairy tale. Beautiful and mysterious and slightly ominous.
"This is it," Mom said from the driver's seat. "Your chance to change the world."
I stared at the academy, at the students moving across the grounds, at the future I'd chosen.