Chapter 2: The Lonely Wolf

Five years had passed since Alyra’s first shift, and Alyra had become branded as an outsider. With her twenty-first birthday looming, she felt trapped in a cage crafted from fading dreams and unrelenting boundaries.

The Silver Moon Pack had allowed her to stay, but only under strict conditions. Because of her rare transformation and the fear of what that meant, she was forbidden from crossing beyond the pack’s territory. The elders warned that a silver wolf wandering free would bring nothing but trouble. She longed to break free and see more than the pack boundary but the weight of their expectations tightened around her like a noose.

At least she had carved out a semblance of solitude to bring herself some peace.

Her modest apartment rested on the village’s outskirts, close enough to walk into town but far enough that she wasn't by too many people. It was a world of her own, marked by peeling wallpaper and a single window overlooking the woods that she loved. It was far enough from her parents’ bustling home to afford her independence, yet close enough for them to check in from time to time; however, most of their meetings took place at her parents' home for family dinners. Though always supportive, even they agreed she should never shift outside the pack’s boundary. The shimmer of her wolf form set her apart like a star in the midnight sky: beautiful yet dangerously out of place, an anomaly that sparked awe and suspicion in equal measure.

Over the years, she had grown accustomed to the stares, the hushed whispers that followed her like ghosts everywhere she went. Conversations died the moment she entered a room, and wary glances spoke volumes where words failed. Some pack members kept their distance, scared of what she meant for the pack. Others harbored quiet resentment. She never truly felt accepted in the pack.

The one person who didn't hold anything against her was her best friend, Riley.

Since childhood, Riley had been her ally. He was the only one who never flinched away even when her shift had cast her basically into exile. He shielded her from biting remarks, shared meals in the wake of her isolation, and ignited laughter when darkness threatened to consume her. But that all changed when Riley found his mate.

It was inevitable since Riley was slightly older than Alyra. Wolves who reached twenty-one felt the pull of their destined other half, their fated mate, an unbreakable bond that eclipsed all else. Riley had turned twenty-one last year and found that connection in Jenni.

Every wolf wanted to find their mate and she was truly happy that Riley had found his other half. His visits dwindled, his messages grew sporadic, and their once-effortless conversations became strained. Loneliness crept in like a slow, suffocating tide and Alyra felt like she had lost her only friend in the world. She understood the laws of their kind. Mates always came first and she should be grateful for the love he had found. Yet her understanding did little to dull the ache of abandonment.

So, she lost herself as much as she could in her work.

Writing had always been her refuge when times were tough. It was a space where she could piece together the fragments of her fractured self and escape into places that she knew lay outside of the pack. She had rushed through her studies, earning a GED and graduating online university early, which allowed her to dive headfirst into the uncertain world of authorship. The career was neither lucrative nor glamorous, but it gave her a purpose that nothing else could. With her parents’ unwavering support, she clung to her passion, each word she wrote was a small act of defiance against the solitude pressing in on her.

Her days followed a predictable rhythm, which gave her some semblance in her world.

Every morning, she strolled through the cobbled streets to the cozy coffee shop nestled at the village’s heart. The rich aroma of roasted beans and the low hum of murmured conversations wrapped around her like a familiar embrace. She always ordered the same thing—a caramel latte, extra foam—and settled into her favorite corner. Surrounded by the comforting scratch of pen against paper and the rhythmic tapping of her laptop keys, she wove worlds where she was more than an outcast, deliberately tuning out the judgment lingering just beyond reach.

But today, the peace was unfortunately shattered with a single voice.

“Well, well, if it isn’t our little silver ghost.”

Alyra inhaled slowly, letting her eyes drift shut for a brief moment before turning to face Damien. He stood by the counter, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips, watching her. Alyra's fingers curled around her mug and an impulsive urge to throw its contents at him flashed through her mind.

“Damien,” she greeted coolly, keeping her focus on the bright screen of her laptop in hopes that he would lose interest and leave.

But that hope was shattered when he approached her and leaned in, feigning concern. “You always sit in the same spot, order the same drink, bury yourself in that laptop. It’s like you’re avoiding us.” He pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Makes a guy wonder if you even want to be part of the pack.”

“And yet,” Alyra mused, tone even, “here you are, interacting with me.”

Behind the counter, Marla—the café’s owner—watched the exchange with an amused yet knowing smile. “Damien, stop harassing my customers,” she said, wiping down a mug with deliberate ease.

“I’m just being friendly,” Damien replied, raising his hands in mock innocence. Then, lowering his voice to a whisper, he added, “Your birthday’s coming up soon. Don’t get your hopes up about finding a mate. No one wants a freak like you.”

Alyra’s pulse faltered, but she kept her features neutral. Slowly, she lifted her gaze, head tilting ever so slightly as if weighing the words she knew she was about to say.

“That’s interesting,” she mused, voice laced with a quiet smile. “Because I distinctly remember hearing that your mate rejected you.” She leaned forward slightly, her tone turning saccharine. “Tell me, Damien—what’s worse? Being labeled a freak or being utterly unwanted?”

Damien’s smirk faltered, his jaw tightening. For a moment, tension crackled between them, thick and charged.

Then, just as it seemed he might retaliate, Marla’s voice cut through the air, sharp as a blade, “Damien, you need to leave.”

Her tone brooked no argument. The café fell silent as all eyes turned to him. After a moment’s hesitation, Damien scoffed, spun on his heel, and stormed out, the door slamming behind him.

Alyra exhaled, tension leaving her shoulders as she saw him turn the corner away from the shop.

“Asshole,” Marla muttered, shaking her head as she placed a fresh cup of coffee in front of Alyra. “You okay, hon?”

Alyra forced a small, brittle smile. “I’m fine.”

Marla didn’t look convinced but said nothing. She patted Alyra’s hand before retreating to the counter. Yet the sting of Damien’s words lingered, curling around her like a shadow. Somehow he knew her own doubts of finding her mate.

Her gaze drifted to the faded calendar behind the counter. Two weeks until her twenty-first birthday—the day fate would either confirm her solitude or grant her something she had never dared to hope for.

Swallowing hard, she whispered to herself, “Please… let there be someone out there for me.”

She refused to let her hope die, fragile as it was.