Chapter 1
Evelyn
I wiped down the last table at Cafe, a strange tingling sensation creeping up my spine. Something felt different tonight—my skin prickled with an awareness I hadn't experienced in three long years. Every nerve ending suddenly seemed alive—the fluorescent lights too bright, the murmur of conversations too loud, the scent of coffee grounds and human sweat overwhelming.
"You're off the clock, Evelyn. Get out before I change my mind," my manager called from behind the counter.
I untied my apron with trembling hands, hanging it on the hook by the staff room. Three years in Portland, and this crappy cafe job was the perfect cover. The life of a Wolfless—cut off from family, territory, protection. But more importantly, cut off from my wolf. Until tonight.
"What's happening to me?" I wondered, pressing my palm against the bathroom mirror, studying my reflection. My eyes flashed silver for a split second before returning to normal. Impossible. My wolf had been dormant, unreachable since that night.
As I headed toward the exit, a man slid into my path, reeking of whiskey and cheap cologne.
"Hey there, wild girl," he slurred, reaching for my waist. "Finish your shift? Let me buy you a drink."
I stepped back, heart racing. "Not interested."
His fingers locked around my wrist. "C'mon, sweetheart. I've been watching you all night. Something about you... different. Dangerous." He leaned closer, his breath hot on my face. "I like dangerous."
Something stirred inside me—a presence I'd thought lost forever. My wolf. Responding. Awakening. The shock nearly buckled my knees.
"Let. Go." My voice dropped an octave, unfamiliar even to myself.
"Make me," he taunted.
I did exactly that—using force I hadn't accessed in years, my muscles responding with forgotten strength. He stumbled backward, crashing into a table before landing hard on the floor.
"She attacked me!" he shouted, drawing everyone's attention. "This crazy bitch attacked me!"
The manager frantically called the police. Under the disgusted and fearful stares of everyone around, I was hauled into the police car. Fifteen minutes later, I found myself sitting in the cold interrogation room at Portland Police Station, staring at the peeling paint while trying to understand what was happening to my body.
"I'm twenty-one," I said for the third time to Officer Davis. "I don't have a guardian."
"The man is pressing charges, Miss Gray. We need to contact someone."
I almost laughed. Who would come? I had no one. For years, I'd been alone, incomplete, my wolf side silent.
Then the impossible happened.
The station door swung open, and in walked Victoria Gray—my mother. The familiar scent hit me immediately: cedar and bergamot, undercut with the unmistakable musk of wolf. My newly awakened wolf stirred violently in response, recognizing kin even as my human side recoiled.
"I'm here for Evelyn Gray," she announced, not even glancing my way.
Officer Davis looked at the name on the paperwork, his expression shifting slightly. He quickly processed the release.
After signing paperwork, Victoria dragged me outside. The moment we cleared the station doors, her hand cracked across my face.
"Three years," she hissed, "and the first time your wolf shows itself, you attack a human? Have you learned nothing from your punishment?"
My hand flew to my face, not from pain but shock. "How did you know my wolf is back?"
Her eyes narrowed. "A white wolf awakening after three years—it sent ripples through the packs. Your grandfather sensed it first."
"My wolf isn't back," I lied, terrified of this new vulnerability. "I've been Wolfless for three years."
"Don't lie to me. I can smell it on you." She lowered her voice. "You've been expelled from the Gray family. You have no Pack protection. With your wolf returning, you're more dangerous than ever."
In the parking lot, Victoria paused. "Your grandfather is back. He wants you to come home."
The truth hit me. "So that's why you're here. William sent you."
She checked her watch impatiently. "Lock yourself up tonight. The moon is full, and your wolf is unpredictable after being dormant."
"I've been alone since that night," I snapped, though inwardly I was terrified. I had no idea what to expect now that my wolf was stirring again.
I straddled my black Ducati, the engine's roar a poor distraction from the chaos inside me. Wind whipped my hair as I tore through Portland's streets, my senses sharper than they'd been in years. Each mile brought unfamiliar sensations—scents more vivid, sounds clearer, my vision sharpening as colors intensified.
'Why now?' I thought desperately. 'Why after three years?'
I glanced skyward. The full moon was rising, calling to something inside me that had been silent too long. My hands trembled on the handlebars, skin burning as though something was fighting to break through. This wasn't like before. This was my first transformation after being a wolfless, and I had no idea if I could control it.
Taking the sharp curve on the forest road, my enhanced vision caught something in the moonlight—a dark figure sprawled across the asphalt, surrounded by blood. Two men stood over him, silver pistols gleaming.
Every instinct screamed to keep going. Not my problem. Not tonight, with my dormant wolf suddenly awakening.
But the wounded man moved, raising an arm in defense. The desperation in his gesture broke through my fear.
I cut the engine, circling behind them with a grace I'd forgotten I possessed. The first man never saw me coming. The second spun, firing wildly, but I moved with speed that shocked even me.
When both lay immobile, I fell to my knees beside the wounded man, terrified as unfamiliar sensations ripped through me. Bones shifting, muscles stretching—my first transformation in three years beginning at the worst possible moment.
The man's hand shot out, fingers closing around my wrist. At his touch, something extraordinary happened—the storm inside me didn't stop, but changed.
I stared at my hand—claws extending for the first time in years—then at the stranger's face, illuminated by moonlight. Strong jawline, dark hair, eyes like blue flame. His scent—pine and wilderness and power—called to my wolf in ways I couldn't understand.
"Who are you?" I whispered, my voice catching as I felt my wolf rising not in violence but in recognition.