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2,123,140	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2123077}'	No	2024-10-08 20:56	active	1596	🔥️click here to read more FREE chapters!	Maxwell arrived home well past 11:00 pm. The villa was eerily quiet, with only a night light switched on in the living room. Jennifer sat on the couch, seemingly waiting for him. As Maxwell took off his coat and loosened his tie, he spoke impatiently, "Didn't we agree on the divorce? I won't shortchange you when it comes to assets. You can rest assured about that." He thought she wanted a larger share of the assets. Jennifer's voice was hoarse when she asked, "Maxwell, did you want a divorce because of that woman?" Maxwell's expression faltered slightly, but he quickly regained his composure. He didn't want to hide anything from her, nor did he care to. "Yes. I owe it to her. That's something I must do," he admitted frankly. Jennifer chuckled bitterly. "I only discovered today how hypocritical you are. You played the victim, making me feel guilty and pushing me to get a divorce. I bet you were secretly pleased, weren't you? You finally caught me making a blunder, and you're now forcing me to leave so you can be with her." Maxwell furrowed his brows. His tone was chilling as he replied, "Jennifer, let's make things clear. Rachel and I were together in the first place. You know very well how you ended up marrying me. Now that you have someone else, we're even. Let's spare each other, shall we?" "No!" Jennifer's words were sharp. "I hate being deceived. You and her have been playing me like a fool for the past two years. Do you think I'll let you off?" Maxwell rubbed his temples, suppressing his irritation. With gritted teeth, he demanded, "Then what do you want?" "I won't get a divorce." With that, Jennifer went to the bedroom. Almost as soon as she turned around, her tears surged out. For two whole years, she had been waiting for him to return her feelings. Before her mother passed away, she was told that most marriages in this world were built on growing affection over time. Love at first sight was just infatuation, like what she felt for Maxwell. But marriage ultimately relied on tolerance and patience. Jennifer thought her perseverance would eventually warm his heart. Now she realized how wrong she was.	LEARN_MORE	https://mn.ikkly.com/market/goodnovel/1?lpid=12134	Free BOOKS	https://www.facebook.com/61560779513133/	497	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	mn.ikkly.com	DCO		https://mn.ikkly.com/market/goodnovel/1?lpid=12134&utm_campaign={{campaign.name}}&utm_content={{campaign.id}}&adset_name={{adset.name}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}&ad_name={{ad.name}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/449446467_1261394664825541_5551202590940703694_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=104&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=wQHqgeVayMYQ7kNvgFQ-7NE&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=ALBKrvTE9zbcRkAPL1YZ6fO&oh=00_AYD7DbC2Xs6DNm0WL6eSjv63pNJgN6cx5YjzNGqLdtZMiQ&oe=670B9A4A	PERSON_PROFILE	Free BOOKS	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,123,286	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2123281}'	Yes	2024-10-08 20:57	active	1596	😍Read the next chapters👉	Chapter 1 A Messy Life and the Mafia Six months ago, I was a promising med student on the verge of all my dreams coming true, but now I’m just a waitress trying to start over in a new city. I know this restaurant I work at has ties to the infamous Onyx Mafia, but I didn’t have much choice—it's the best-paying job I could find. Besides, the scariest thing about working here isn’t the Mafia, it is the man at table eight flagging me down, obviously fuming. “What looks wrong here?” He snaps and I scan table eight's orders. Foie gras for the blonde in red, Peking duck for the pouty daughter—check. But the impatient bald man tapping his fingers? He got the risotto, not the ribeye currently in front of him. A cold sweat sweeps down my spine as I look between the squinting gaze of the man and the squiggles that are my handwriting. I still write like a surgeon, yet another reminder of my failed dreams. "Wait, I'm sorry... you ordered--" My hands tremble, and my heart sinks as I realize the kitchen couldn’t decipher my handwriting and just took a guess. Lucky me, their guess was wrong. "I-I think the kitchen--" Before I can finish my sentence, Jessica descends upon us like a vulture, risotto in hand. "Apologies for the inconvenience," she chimes in, her voice dripping with faux sympathy. "Elise here is still learning the ropes." "I can tell," the man responds curtly, his attention entirely on Jessica, silently dismissing me. There goes my tip. "Sir, I noticed you’re drinking the 1984 Chateau. Let me send another round on the house for your troubles," Jessica offers breathlessly, her bosom on display as she leans in, her eyes batting just like they did back in high school. The man grunts in agreement as her fingers dig into my arm like talons. She whispers through clenched teeth, "Kitchen. Now." I bow my head obediently as I follow her into the chaos of the kitchen. When I moved here, I promised things were going to be different. I would be no one’s stepping stool, and yet here I am again, at the mercy of another girl who appears oblivious to the fact that we graduated high school. “Elise struck again, boys!” Tony, the sous chef, calls out, his laughter echoing through the kitchen. “What was it this time? Dropped another soup? Tripped and broke all the glasses?” In my defense, the soup incident happened because a man molested me, and Jessica tripped me while I was carrying glasses for an 18-person table. “Oh, tonight she gave one of our regulars the wrong meal.” “It’s the kitchen’s fault. I ordered a risotto, not a ribeye."I retort, pushing my glasses up as I glare at Jessica. “And who could tell with that chicken scratch handwriting?” Tony snorts. “Remember she wanted to be a surgeon,” Jessica sneers. “Doctors notoriously have terrible handwriting, but not waitresses.” The other kitchen staff snicker at her remark. They all think I went to med school and couldn’t cut it. But they don't know the truth, and it would be worse if they did. I take a deep breath, trying to push down my anger. "You were supposed to be a surgeon, marry Sirius, live your perfect little life," she snaps back, the mention of his name, Sirius, still a punch to the gut after all these years. I bite my lip to stifle the retort that threatens to spill from my lips and look down at my tennis shoes, a lump forming in my throat. I can still remember the feeling of the day he disappeared. I told everyone he loved me, that he would be back, and that he would never just leave me, but they were all right. He was gone. He didn’t want me anymore and wasn’t brave enough to say it to my face before disappearing. I don’t know what I’d do if I ever saw him again. It’d be a combination of running into his arms, waiting to see every bit of his life I missed, and kicking him where the sun doesn't shine. "But then you ended up at the bottom, where you’re meant to be." I hold my breath. I can’t show Jessica she’s getting to me. "Good thing Sirius came to his senses like we all knew he would," Jessica retorts. "Once he was done slumming it, he ran away from you as fast as possible. I mean, you practically ran him out of town." The lump in my throat swells as memories of his abandonment flood back, the pain still fresh. "You know what--" "Those better are words of gratitude, Elise, because I am two seconds away from firing you," Jessica interrupts, her smirk widening as she relishes in my discomfort. I swallow back my retort, facing Mr. Thompson, the restaurant manager. Mr. Thompson's stern gaze pierces through me as he approaches. "Elise, why do I have Mr. Kelsey asking for a free bottle of wine for his troubles?" "I-I'm sorry, Mr. Thompson," I stammer, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'll do better, I promise." "You have been promising to do better for weeks, Elise. That is not enough anymore," he snaps. "I'll work harder, I swear," I plead, desperation creeping into my voice. "Please." Mr. Thompson holds up a hand to silence me. "You've got one more chance, Elise, but you’re out of here if I hear one more complaint. Do you understand?" I nod frantically."Yes, Mr. Thompson. I won't let you down. I promise." He scoffs, clearly unconvinced. "For the rest of your shift, you are exclusive to the VIPs upstairs," he continues, his tone stern. "They’re too drunk to notice your insolence." "Yes, sir," I whisper. "And you better be on your best behavior because the Mafia king is here," Mr. Thompson warns. "And if I don’t have your head, he will." I swallow hard, the weight of his words settling like a lead weight in the pit of my stomach, as I nod, feeling a shiver run down my spine. Mr. Thompson storms off into his office, leaving Jessica behind me with a wicked gleam in her eye. "Looks like you're on thin ice, Elise," Jessica says, her tone dripping with faux sympathy. "Better watch your step." "Why? You’re going to trip me?" "I would never, but since you are exclusive to VIPs," Jessica hands me a tray of appetizers too heavy for me to hold without almost falling over. "Take this to table 19... the King’s subjects are there." I take a deep breath as I walk out of the kitchen and into the dining room. But as I look up at the men sitting upstairs, a wave of dread washes over me, making me want to run in the opposite direction. They're overly comfortable, as if they own the place as if they own the world. And in a way, they do. The rumors swirling around the restaurant's ownership, whispers of connections to the mafia, suddenly feel all too real. Each step closer to the VIP room feels heavier, as if I am dragging myself closer. As I approach, the men’s eyes leering over me like predators sizing up their prey. The minute I set down the appetizers, a hand grips the back of my leg, sending a shiver down my spine. "Hey there, sweetheart," the man slurs, his breath reeking of booze as he pulls me into his lap. "Why don’t you clock out and hang with the big dogs?" I squirm, feeling his hand wander where it shouldn't."No. Stop it. I have to get back to work," I protest, trying to push him away. But he only laughs, his grip tightening as his friends jeer and egg him on. I squirm, feeling something hard poking me, I begin to panic. He hisses in excitement in my ear. “Yeah, baby, keep doing that.” I try to pull away, causing my glasses to go flying. Great, now I’m blind too. I struggle with my body, tears stinging as I attempt to slide out of his lap, “I need my glasses.” “You do not need glasses for what we are going to do.” He pinches my chin, leaning in as if he is going to kiss me, but the sound of a growling, cleared throat causes him to pause. Panic rises in my throat as I realize that none of these guys will help me and that going against the Mafia for some random waitress is a losing battle. "In my restaurant, we do not tolerate harassment of women," the voice declares, cutting through the VIP, firm and unwavering. The handsy man practically throws me onto the floor as he looks up at the gentleman standing in front of him. I turn to see, in my blurry haze, the silhouette of a man looming protectively over me, his presence exuding authority and strength. The handsy man stutters as the man approaches us, “King. She approached me.” “Really? Are you calling me a liar?” The Mafia King’s voice is calm and sharp, like a shard of ice. “ No, my King, but she is a call girl!” I snap, looking back at the handsy man before turning to the King to plead my case. But I pause. The King’s head is tilted as he looks at me. The King’s voice is laced with disappointment and concern, “A call girl?” Chapter 2 Mafia King Knows Me？ “What, no!” I stand up, “I am not a call girl!” My hand instinctively reaches for my glasses, but they're not there. With a frown, I protest, glaring at the accusing handsyMafia man. “No call girl is too nice for what she does on her knees.” Jessica stands next to the stairs, arms crossed, leaning on the railing. “She solicited me. Asked me to come get her after work because she needs to make some extra money,” the handsy man pleads, but the King stares at me. Jessica saunters over, her hand casually trailing between her bosoms and up to her collarbone as she walks. She stops in front of the King, a coy smile playing on her lips as she leans close to whisper in his ear. “Think about it, darling. A woman who can get close enough to you without suspicion and weasels her way into the VIP area. Doesn’t that sound like a call girl?” The movements Jessica makes intrigue me as if she can turn on and off her alluring appeal. The King's gaze never leaves my direction as Jessica whispers in his ear. Slowly, he straightens up and pushes Jessica slightly back. “You seem to know a lot about the position of a call girl,” King says, but Jessica playfully laughs that off. “I admire how they always seem to get their way.” Gears start to turn in my mind as I squint at Jessica’s blurry form. She looks innocent and inviting, as if she is just flirting, but she is fully prepared to go much further than that. But I can see past her facade now, despite my broken glasses and the blurry world they left me in. Squinting, I can just make out the calculated way she moves and the sharpness in her eyes. I interject before Jessica can respond, “King, look at her body language. Even through the blur, she’s loose, inviting, and sensual as she speaks to you.” The King's gaze shifts from me back to Jessica, a new sense of awareness in his eyes. “When you came in here my body language was stiff, closed off. If I were a call girl like her, I wouldn’t be a good one, would I?” Jessica's facade wavers for a split second before she regains her composure, letting a seductive smile spread across her face. The King lightly chuckles as he pushes Jessica away, “It takes more than a brain full of silicone and fake bosoms to be a good call girl, but I see your point.” “It’s an act some guys like, King, a little bit of fight,” Jessica goes to reach for the King again, but he grabs her wrist tightly, his body tense. “Do not touch me again,” the King drops her hand with disgust, wiping his hand on his jeans as he continues. “ I have let you humor me with your lies, but do not treat me like a fool.” “No, King I would never,” the King gives her a humorless laugh as he invades her space menacingly. “You think you could play me for a fool because I am a man I must be ruled by my hormonal drive? Is that it?” The King looks her over in disgust and turns away, “Get out of my sight.” “King, you have to be protected from her.” Jessica approaches him again, feigning innocence, but the King’s subjects block her as he moves closer to me. “You underestimate me because I have shown you kindness. I will not make that mistake again. ” He slowly looks over at Jessica, and I can tell from how her knees buckle that she sees the darkness in his eyes. “ You're fired.” “King, I’m sorry I-” “You have three minutes to exit. I would use that time wisely.” Fear strikes across Jessica’s face as she scrambles back down the stairs. I bow my head, looking at my tennis shoes, unsure of the punishment I may receive. I don’t know how long I have been looking down, but a hand holding my broken glasses evades my eyeline. “Oh, thank you.” “They are shattered, can you see otherwise?” I shake my head, not allowing my hair to fall into my face. The King pinches my chin forcing me to look at him, and I can make out the sharpness of his jawline. His touch shoots a spark of electricity down my spine, and my breath hitches. “I will-” “I have contacts downstairs. You know, in case of emergencies.” The King looks at me as if a thousand questions are running through his mind. “Why are you working here?” I struggle back, slighting, and the King releases me. Jessica was right in a way I was supposed to be so much more. I was supposed to be a surgeon. I had the brains for it. The steady hands. The determination, but it is not often a stranger can see you are meant to be so much more than what you are. In the blur, I try to find his eyes before I respond, “Most people can’t do what they truly want to.” The King nods sharply before taking a step back and clearing his throat. “I don’t want you in the VIP rooms anymore. They’re filled with dangerous people, and normal people shouldn’t be around them.” “You sound worried.” I laugh at the King’s warning. “I am serious, Elise. I don’t want you up here again.” The King’s voice is sharp, and I straighten at the command. “As you wish, King.” His lips in a tight line, he nods taking a small step to the right, allowing me to shimmy past him. I stop and turn around, “Thank you for everything.” He doesn’t respond, opting for a sharp nod. I walk forward, clutching my broken glasses, looking down when another figure blocks my exit. The blonde guy with an easygoing smile clears his throat as he nervously scratches the back of his head, “Hey," he says, his voice wavering slightly. "I'm sorry about what happened back there. Are you okay?" "I'll survive," I reply with a shrug, avoiding eye contact. His gaze lingers on me for a moment before he nods slowly. “Well, I was wondering if you would give me a chance to show you not everyone in the Mafia is not a pig?” I give him a small smile, feeling the heat of someone’s eyes behind me. “I don’t think my boyfriend would like that very much.” The snort causes me to turn around, and the King blends into the black leather couch, looking at me, “Boyfriend?” “A great boyfriend. If that matters?” The King coughs, “Not at all.” He looks over at a disappointed Jacob. “I just told her to steer clear of us, and you ask her out on a date in front of me.” “What shot would I have after this if you ban her?” “None. You get no chance.” The King growls, and I back up towards the stairs. “Leave now, Elise Caroline. I don’t want to see you up here again.” His warning is sharp and declarative. With a small squeak, I scurry down the stairs, but I pause before I enter the kitchen. I never introduced myself. I never told the King my name, yet he said it not once but twice, and the second time, he used my middle name. Does the Mafia King know me? Do I know him? Chapter 3 Rumors and Crisis I don’t breathe until the kitchen doors slam behind me. How does the Mafia King know my name, surely he knows all his employees' names. He may just be a great boss. Right, that’s it. The Mafia King is a great boss who would’ve thought? My breathing slows and I realize I’m so caught up in my thoughts I don’t feel the entire kitchen looking at me until Toni clears his throat. “Elise?” I look up at him, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but I don’t respond. Instead, Dawn, the pastry chef, approaches me with flour-covered hands. “Hey girly, are you okay? Did the King…hurt you?” I shake my hand no, a strangled breath releases from my lips, and Dawn sighs, squeezing my cheeks. “Good because the King has no right hurting a girl as innocent as you.” “Like that would’ve been his first time!” Kelsey, the saucier, laughs in the corner of the kitchen. “Kels, you’re not helping,” Dawn snaps, but Toni approaches us wickedly. “I heard his favorite way to murder is the bloody eagle.” “Toni!” I look at Dawn’s horrified face as she runs to cover my ears. “What's the bloody eagle?” I whisper. The dread I had swimming in my gut since the King first laid eyes on me bubbles to the surface. I feel like I could vomit. “All I’m going to say is ribs pulled through the back. If you want more details, do your research online.” I would not, but Kelsey laughs, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t put it past him. The King treats his subjects like their commodities, completely replaceable. He’s the youngest King ever, and you don’t get to be King in your twenties without a trail of blood behind you.” Kelsey points her ladle at us in warning, “So watch ya’ step, or the King will gut ya’ like a fish!” “Or hang your head above his fireplace, I heard the king loves a trophy, and a pretty head like yours would be perfect.” Toni swats at my hair and Dawn pushes him back to his station. “What is all this racket?! Kelsey you’re messing around and broke the sauce!” The Head Chef, Yolanda enters the kitchen with a stern look in her eyes, “And you! Why aren’t you running my plates?” “I-I…” I rub my hands back and forth, feeling the tension of being in trouble for the third time tonight. “She just had an interaction with the King. Leave her alone.” Dawn snaps. Dawn and Yolanda are childhood best friends, and Dawn is the only one who can talk to Yolanda that way and still have her job. Yolanda’s face pales as she walks closer to me, “You interacted with the King and made it out alive? Count your lucky stars.” Yolanda approaches me cautiously and I don’t realize all the stress is forcing tears to burn in my eyes. “That man is cold-blooded like a snake.” Despite the bile I balance in the back of my throat, I look Yolanda in the eye and shake my head, “No, he protected me. He knew my name.” “He knew your name because you have a name tag on your shirt.” Yolanda flicks my name tag and I look down at it, a pang of disappointment shivering through me. “Protect you?” Dawn questions, “You didn’t say anything about the King protecting you.” “That may be worse. A dangerous man like him may like you, want you.” Yolanda whispers. My eyes widened. My skin flushes as Yolanda and Dawn share a look with each other. The King knew my name. The King wants me. I remember the way he said boyfriend as if it was the most disgusting word on his tongue. But just as I spiral, Dawn and Yolanda break into laughter. “Girl, bless your heart! A man that fine wants you. You better be over the moon happy.” Dawn lightly hits her rag on my right arm, and I flinch, holding my breath. “I mean, those gray eyes are just delicious!” Kelsey chimes in. “Nope, it has to be black curly hair.” Those eyes, that hair remind me of Sirius. His eyes could be a storm with everyone else and clear with me. How a single curl always danced in the middle of his forehead, and I’d spend all day pushing it back. The days when he was my Sirius. The laughter snaps me out of my daze. “I bet he wakes up with his hair like that, just messy and perfect!” “Yolanda, I don’t know if you want to be him or sleep with him?” “Does it matter?” The entire kitchen erupts into laughter. “I would take him any way I could get him. He is so fine!” “So how did he look up close, Elise? A walking daydream, huh?” Kelsey leans over her pot, wiggling her eyebrows. I hide my head slightly, blush to creep up the apple of my cheeks. “I don’t know,” I show the kitchen my glasses. “I broke my glasses. All I could see was tall, charming, and hot.” The entire kitchen boos. “You get close to the Mafia King, and your glasses break!” Dawn pouts, pushing me away, and I giggle for the first time in this entire situation. “Sorry, I can’t tell you how hot he is. You’re going to have to figure that out yourselves!” “Hey! Why is no one helping me out on the floor?” An upset waiter enters the kitchen looking around at us. “I’ll be right there, just let me get my contacts.” I head towards the break room and rummage inside my purse, revealing my contact lenses. I begin to replace my contacts, looking into the crappy workplace mirror, but once my vision is clear, all I can see is my missing earring. One of my silver earrings from Sirius, he got me for our last anniversary together. He’s already missing. I can lose the last thing he’s ever given me. I look over at the floor near my locker, but I know where it is. It’s in the VIP area. I turn on my heel towards the VIP area. The Mafia King's warning echoed in my mind, I don’t want you in the VIP rooms anymore. It’s filled with the type of dangerous people, normal people shouldn’t be around.” I push his warning into the back of my mind. With a deep breath, I start walking up the stairs. I’ll be quick! In and out before anyone notices. As I enter the VIP area, I immediately fall to my knees, crawling around for the earring and hiding from the boisterous men laughing around the bar. I freeze when the King’s voice booms through the area, “You’re lucky I don’t collect your freaking head!” The music in the VIP clicks off. “Boss, it was just a girl!” The man snaps back and the entire area seems to hold their breath as the twinkle of something catches my eye. “A girl under my protection. The same way you are under my protection.” The King's voice is even and controlled again, “And don’t I always protect mine?” I contort my body, grabbing the dangled earring from underneath the couch. “Let me provide you with this small mercy. I promise you the alternative is lethal, and it would be a shame to murder you when you’re still useful to me.” The club music clicks back on as if nothing happened. I sit up on the floor, fixing the earring in my ear. When the footsteps descend towards me. I am not quick enough when I hear the humorless laughter of the handsy man, “You are the freaking pain of my existence. I’m on grunt duty because of you.” I look up, my eyes darting between him and the stairs. If I jump up and run. I should make it. I will make it. I propel myself off the floor, running towards the stairs, but the handsy man is quicker. He pulls me back by my hair, caging me in. My breath hitches as cold metal digs into my side. His breath gushes over my face in puffs thick with the scent of tobacco and gin. “ Go on and scream. No one will hear you, and it’ll only make this more fun for me.” Chapter 4 The Mafia King is My Ex? “ Go on and scream. No one will hear you, and it’ll only make this more fun for me.” His fingernails dig into my wrist, but I bite back any response watching his nostrils flare. “You got me suspended from duties because you rather spread your legs for the King than me.” He pulls me against him, snarling at my confident facade. I look down at the mark forming on my wrist, keeping my voice as even as possible, I say, “I do not want the King. I do not know the King.” He pushes me against the brick wall, and with my better judgment, I whimper, gripping the back of my head, “You dare lie to me? After all you have done, you freaking lie to me?” Spit sprays over my face, his eyes bulge out of his head as he holds me against the wall. The concrete dug into my skin. “Please,” I whisper. “Please?! Please! You purposefully lead me to the freaking slaughter, shaking your tight body for the king, begging him to punish me for your fault.” His wet breath drips down my face, and I look away towards the hallway leading to the King. I didn’t know the King. He did not need to come to my rescue, yet he did. Maybe the King liked me the way Dawn said, but what did it matter? I did not want him. “I am not sorry you were punished. I said no.” “Oh, so this is the little game we’re going to play? You say no, and mean yes.” A greedy, devious smile spread across the man's lips as if the idea of conquering me in such a manner excited him. “You little freaking tease.” His palm digs into my waist, and my eyes water over, straining to look down the hallway to the King. “No.” “You like causing trouble, huh? You like luring men in to watch them. ” I hear the click of his belt, a dooming sound. “You need to be taught a lesson, and I love punishing little girls with fresh mouths.” A voice and the click of a door opening cut the tension. “Boss, who even was she?” He pulls me into a corner. He pulls me in front of him and presses himself on me. His gun is tucked under my chin, and his arm is wrapped around my waist as he whispers in my ear, “Don’t make a freaking sound.” I watch the King walk down the hallway, most of his subjects a step or two behind him. The young member with dirty brown hair and colorful tattoos walks almost in step with him. The King’s voice almost sounds bored as he responds. “That is none of your concern, Taylor.” “You punished one of your own men for her. I think you owe us an explanation.” Taylor snaps, stopping the King in his steps. “Owe?” He slowly turns, and I can see the King’s face clearly through a sliver of light. The girls downstairs didn’t do him any justice. He was breathtaking. Dressed in a tailored black suit, the fabric stretched taut over his muscular frame, his white button-up exposed the tattoo in swirling patterns on his chest and up part of his neck. His curly black hair was gelled back into a style of sorts, but two unruly curls escaped and framed his face. His eyes swirled like a storm, erupting and flashing between the calming gray and black. He looked almost like a tortured angel. He almost looks like Sirius. “You think I owe you?” The King snarls at Taylor, who instantly turns pale. “N-no, I just mean-” “You just mean I should allow subordinates to run rampant to assault and pillage like average thugs.” “Sir it just seemed like you cared about the girl too much.” “What I choose to care and not care about is none of your freaking business, but Dan was punished for lying to me,” The King leans in closer, “ I was feeling gracious, so he was given a slap on the wrist, next time I will cut out his tongue. But my kindness has expired.” “King.” Desperation drips in the boy’s tone, but the King dismisses him with the flick of his wrist, and a man drags Taylor away. “Step foot in my territory again, and you will be destroyed on sight.” The King continues walking forward as if he did not send someone to their death, but the gasp that escapes my lips makes him pause. “Dan?” The handsy man behind me shifts, a grunt escaping his throat. Then a shot rang out, something sliced through the air, and Dan shrieked, falling to his knees. “I show you kindness, and this is how you repay me?” The King’s voice is deathly low as he approaches, and I dare not move. I dare not breathe. “The call girl freaking deserves it.” A low rumble of laughter escapes the King, lowering himself over a bleeding Dan. He pushes the barrel of the gun into the wound in his shoulder. “You are freaking mad, murdering innocents just because they won’t sleep with you?” The King pistol whips Dan into the floor, and a strangled sound fills the room. Dan spits onto the floor. “This is the thanks I get for letting you keep your life?” “My King, she seduced me-” The King grips him by the collar dragging him close. “You think it is wise to lie again?” Dan audibly swallows, a whimper escaping his lips. The King snaps his finger, and a buff, bald man with the word mercy over his knuckles comes up behind him. “Yes, boss?” “I want his tongue and right hand.” With a curt nod, the man grips Dan by his injured shoulder and drags him deeper into the VIP area. “I thought I told you not to come back in here.” The King looks in the direction of a weeping, sounding annoyed. I slowly at the King from the corner of my eye, my mouth completely dry and my hands feverishly shaking. The scars on the King’s face glitter in the low lighting making my stomach twist, so I focus on the silver, twisted ring on his ring finger. It looks almost like tree branches gripping his skin. “I-I left something here.” “What?” His empty grey eyes lock on me. “An earring.” A short grunt leaves his lips, “You risked your life for an earring?” “It’s sentimental.” I whisper, narrowing my eyes closer to the ring, recognizing the red ruby in the center of a rose, and I almost choke, drilling my eyes into his, “Sirius?!” Chapter 5 An Unexpected Reunion “Sirius?!” My heart is practically beating out of my chest. I can’t breathe, staring into his eyes, I know. I know it’s him. He turns to me a blank look on his face. The silence in the room creeps over me, and I slowly look around the room. Every mafia member is staring at me, with tension in their necks, awaiting the command of their king. I almost believe I’ve misspoken as I watch the King’s jaw click. “Elise.” “Oh my god!” I take a step back, looking him over. He looks just like he did in high school, but buffed up and toned, no longer lean and boyish. He’s a full man now. “When I told you to stay away from here, I meant it. Earring or not.” “These were…you cannot tell me what to do, Sirius.” He tilts his head to the side, looking me over. “You gave these to me…before you…” “I know, earring or not. Do not come back up here. Stay away from the mafia.” His voice is ice-cold and distant. He starts to walk away from me, and I almost leap out of my skin following him. “Do not speak to me like that, not after what you did. You abandoned me, and now you dismiss me.” “We both know what really happened back then, don’t act like you don’t know. Do not make me into some villain.” “No, but you are heartless. You leave without a word. You disappear, then you come back and ignore me as if we were nothing. As if you didn’t even—” My words get caught in my chest as if I am about to cry, but Sirius turns sharply towards me, heat rising in his eyes. “Once. I had a heart once, but now when I tell you to do something, you listen, Elise, and that’s final.” Sirius speaks lowly in my face, his voice feathers over me. “Now leave.” My eyes cannot help but flicker at his lips, but I immediately take a step back when he licks them. “No. Just because you say jump, d-does not mean I have to follow, Sirius.” I can hear the click of a gun, and Sirius doesn’t even move as he watches my actions. I raise my hands up and grit my teeth, “I guess you won’t even let me say thank you before murdering me, huh? ” “Lower your weapons, no one is allowed to point a gun at her ever.” I put my hands down slowly, my anger and grief swirling into panic as he turns to leave again. “If I mean so little to you, why are you still wearing your ring?” The branching ring with a single ruby was part of a promise ring set Sirius and I had brought when we were silly and in love. My ring is in my jewelry bag, hidden so Alston won’t find it and ask questions. “For sentimental reasons. I engraved it with something to remind me of the past.” He looks down at the ring longingly before snapping his eyes to my hands. “Where is your ring?” “I lost it years ago.” I don’t know why I lie or what I try to hide, but I know I can’t let him think anything can happen between us. He just nods sharply, not letting any emotions pass over his face. A throat clears in the background, and the tension in the room deflates slightly at the fakely bubbly voice of Mr. Thompson. He stands between Sirius and me a sharp look in his eyes. “Is everything okay here?” “Just a conversation,” Sirius responds evenly, his eyes not leaving mine. Mr.Thompson gives an empty chuckle, “Ah yes, I had to have a conversation with this employee multiple times. She is lazy. She constantly elicits complaints for her promiscuity and irresponsible nature.” He turns to me, hard eyes in his eyes, raising his voice, “Elise, I told you one more time.” “Mr.Thompson, this isn’t what it looks.” I begin, but he puts a hand in my face silencing me. “No, no, the time has come Elise you have embarrassed yourself in front of the King. You have constantly caused problems. You are the most terrible waitress I have ever had the displeasure of managing--” Sirius clocks his gun, placing the barrel against the back of Mr.Thompson’s head and he freezes. “No, no, continue your rant with a gun to your head.” “Sir, I was just firing insubordinate who was causing you trouble.” Mr.Thompson raises his hands up shakily. “Do you think of me as a damsel in need of saving, Thompson?” “Absolutely not sir.” “So why would I need you to come to my rescue?” “Sir, she has been a terrible employee, and I think--” “I do not care what you think. One more insult at her, and I am blowing your freaking brain across this room, understand?” Mr.Thompson nods slowly. “Good.” Sirius puts his gun away, and I can’t help but roll my eyes. “Is this what you do all day? Threaten people’s lives?” “No normally I am not protecting my ex-girlfriend.” Sirius tucks the gun in his waistband, shrugging at Elise. “Where even is he?” “What are you talking about, Sirius?” He walks closer to me a teasing smile on his lips. “Where is your boyfriend? Why is he not here to step in during every crisis, like I am?” Sirius stands a breath away from me, and from his tone, I can tell he is taunting me, that he wants a rise out of me. For a second, I want to smile at his boyish ways. His jealousy-fueled mockery reminds me of my Sirius. “My relationship with Alston has nothing to do with you!” I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest. His eyes dip to my chest, but his eyes narrow, looking at me just as quickly. “I thought you were dating my brother Lester?” “No, he is like a brother to me.” He chuckles. “It would destroy him to hear you say that.” “Why would you think I was with Lester?” “I never would have guessed Alston because he is such a good guy. Taking down major corporations, defending the little guy. I thought you liked your guys with a little edge to them.” Sirius shrugs, a carefree look in his eyes. “You used to be a good guy.” Sirius flashes his million-dollar smile that makes my knees weaken. “I was never a good guy, you just always saw the good in me.” Sirius’s voice is barely above a whisper, causing shivers down my spine. Alston was good. After Sirius went missing, Alston pursued me and when Lester was severely injured, Alston was the one who gathered most of the money for the medical expenses. His good deeds made me fall for him. He was always saving the day, and knowing that he was my personal superhero made me feel secure, supported, and loved. Most importantly, I never felt like he would abandon me. “I agreed to be his girlfriend because he makes me feel safe, Sirius, physically and emotionally.” Sirius’s eyes widen and the careless smile on his face fizzles out. I want to reach up and cup his face. I want to tell him that despite moving on he was my first, I have never been crazy, or foolish in love with anyone else. It’s only been him. “Thompson, leave.” Sirius doesn’t break eye contact with me as Mr.Thompson scurries to leave, but before he can make his grand escape, “I want your office cleared out by the morning.” “What?” Mr.Thompson slows, looking over his shoulder, shock across his face. “Elise will be the new owner, effective in the morning.” Simultaneously Mr.Thompson and I both look at Sirius as if he has lost his mind, screaming, “What? Why?” “Because Alston is not the only person who can make you feel safe, Elise.”	LEARN_MORE	https://redtgb.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=12158&u	Random Reading	https://www.facebook.com/61560831098071/	20	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	redtgb.com	DCO		https://redtgb.com/market/buenovela/3?lpid=12158&utm_campaign={{campaign.name}}&utm_content={{campaign.id}}&adset_name={{adset.name}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}&ad_name={{ad.name}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/449035833_3673882339608318_8624242140010251787_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=102&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=FAsfUw2Q__0Q7kNvgHYg6LS&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=ALiaJ0zosrjWB__-abxSU0D&oh=00_AYCOZZ_TEkLkwxKF9eiYP59BtnbwvL7oIvWRhXo1CCIY6w&oe=670BB95D	PERSON_PROFILE	Random Reading	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,120,261	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2120223}'	Yes	2024-10-08 20:21	active	1595	Descargar ahora👉👉👉	No hace falta que busques más. Esta es la serie que estabas deseando ver. ¡No te la pierdas o te arrepentirás! 😍	WATCH_MORE	https://fblp.drama-time.com/DT-yrccXV-0914-ES-3833	Miiowtv short000	https://www.facebook.com/61557562951006/	161	1969-12-31 18:00	Watch More	fblp.drama-time.com	DCO	{{product.description}}	https://fblp.drama-time.com/DT-yrccXV-0914-ES-383389.html?adid={{ad.id}}&char=1832980583803015170	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/460927835_521784770706201_6256578325209079264_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=104&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=p7Wq_qbocV4Q7kNvgEZe9aq&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=AnTKM1wGuDofsOVLkondatQ&oh=00_AYCM7PQ8XbZfbuzN1udElDOT7oLlPA9t80NnYaeLAyVbiw&oe=670B9C07	PERSON_PROFILE	Miiowtv short000	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,120,301	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2120297}'	No	2024-10-08 20:21	active	1595		Save your spot!	SIGN_UP	http://www.honeysandiego.com/prenatal-yoga	Honey Yoga	https://www.facebook.com/honeylovesyoga/	743	1969-12-31 18:00	Sign Up	www.honeysandiego.com/prenatal-yoga	CAROUSEL	Save your spot!	http://www.honeysandiego.com/prenatal-yoga	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/462534552_881009600662954_2388775863297661746_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=101&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=89GR47LARCAQ7kNvgGouJHx&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=AnTKM1wGuDofsOVLkondatQ&oh=00_AYCTA9HfJEFLnqfvDv7q57RvYcj13q7qVf8_jbpcxqyPlA&oe=670BB432	PERSON_PROFILE	Honey Yoga	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,120,307	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) null	No	2024-10-08 20:21	active	1595	Bye-Bye Fine Lines & Eye Bags 👋🏽 Now $149!	🎉 Upper St. Clair LOVES Neveskin™ Facials! 🎉 “Finally a natural alternative to toxic injections and surgery… it nearly eliminated my fine lines and wrinkles” - Kelly D. The Neveskin™ Facial treatment is a painless, non-surgical solution to younger, brighter, tighter skin. It can help 💥REDUCE💥 signs of aging and appearance of wrinkles AND lift areas on the face & neck. By using this breakthrough technology to naturally increase blood flow and collagen production to the treated area(s) — our clients have toned & tightened their face and necks and LOVED their results. We’re SO excited to introduce Neveskin™ Facial to the area that we’re offering new clients a Free Consultation + Your first Neveskin™ Facial session for only $149. 🔹 NO Side Effects🔹 NO Pain🔹 NO Recovery Time🔹 Schedule an initial consultation to meet with our Neveskin™ Specialist to learn how Neveskin can help you achieve your skin goals! 👇 Click “Learn More” below to claim this offer so we can help you reach your goals! 👇 Please Note: Limited complimentary consultations available. Book now to secure your free consultation today!	LEARN_MORE	https://handandstonebookings.com/upperstclair-faci	Hand & Stone Massage and Facial Spa - Upper St. Clair, PA	https://www.facebook.com/handandstoneupperst.clair/	1,391	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn more	handandstonebookings.com	VIDEO		https://handandstonebookings.com/upperstclair-facial472563	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/462243311_517196457801353_2741799534000172602_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=101&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=IfIsZU9mNmwQ7kNvgHRX1rW&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=AnTKM1wGuDofsOVLkondatQ&oh=00_AYCbH7i6Jh_xMFJsVnieVQw3-MzzWPLmTgDJpVOiGDadmQ&oe=670BC5A1	PERSON_PROFILE	Hand & Stone Massage and Facial Spa - Upper St. Clair, PA	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,120,633	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2120630}'	Yes	2024-10-08 20:22	active	1595	Echoes of a Tender Heart	😭😍💋🥰"After Sandra Glock graduated from high school, her grandfather reached out to her mother, Kelly Youth, who had remarried. Kelly then brought Sandra to live with the Ruths in Kagos. Over time, Sandra grew increasingly heartbroken by her mother's repeated disappointments. However, James Lande, a senior who fell in love with Sandra at first sight, always stood by her side. He protected, cherished, and unconditionally trusted her. In the end, his unwavering care helped Sandra find true love."	WATCH_MORE	https://www.minishortstv.com/share/middle/prhjlrjx	Mini Shorts	https://www.facebook.com/61555659400913/	15,962	1969-12-31 18:00	Watch more	www.minishortstv.com	VIDEO		https://www.minishortstv.com/share/middle/prhjlrjxnlgb4kjwz3ohpnkd?campaign_id={{campaign.id}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}&campaign={{campaign.name}}&adgroup={{adset.name}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/462422046_1055272495786961_6688501286873147755_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=107&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=yHaw8lR8gFkQ7kNvgGydwku&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=AVeh_2eWdofr8up1pRW-VjC&oh=00_AYBetTdOKfKOezQrRVWEtWg9yOebNPyX8_CRVyr7OmxkLA&oe=670BB4CA	PERSON_PROFILE	Mini Shorts	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,120,356	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2120354}'	No	2024-10-08 20:21	active	1595	Kelly Rogers Real Estate Associate in Park City Utah - Sotheby's International Realty		APPLY_NOW	https://www.sothebysrealty.com/summitsir/eng/assoc	Kelly Rogers - Park City and Deer Valley Real Estate	https://www.facebook.com/KellyRogersPC/	2,234	1969-12-31 18:00	Apply Now	sothebysrealty.com	CAROUSEL		https://www.sothebysrealty.com/summitsir/eng/associate/820-a-df20011418091035831/kelly-rogers?mp_agent=820-a-df20011418091035831id%2Fd9e488	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/462527932_808022104618658_4868120626252075155_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=104&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=nhyAjerhUxgQ7kNvgEw6BUB&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=APv92s98cClkF3rUUjLFwzD&oh=00_AYAKV_GWrvN0bRE5azf--q1ye_8-aYipYsrfh8mPpRPPGg&oe=670BAD79	PERSON_PROFILE	Kelly Rogers - Park City and Deer Valley Real Estate	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,123,758	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2123757}'	No	2024-10-08 20:58	active	1596	Apply For SSDI From Home - Start Now For FREE!	𝗬𝗲𝘀! There's now a super-easy way to apply for disability benefits... Up to $3,822 per month! 👍 With Generous Disability, people can apply from home in 3, easy steps, and get approved fast! Just tap below to get started for FREE! 👍 ...And start your claim for up to $3,822 per month.	LEARN_MORE	https://generousdisability.com/easy-way-to-apply-m	Generous Disability	https://www.facebook.com/GenerousDisability/	3,566	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	generousdisability.com	DCO		https://generousdisability.com/easy-way-to-apply-m/	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/460162865_837182045149604_6672456206511977417_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=109&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=44fbLGB0P_QQ7kNvgEdRhlV&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=Ajuq7-HF_dfSyRi5586USEA&oh=00_AYDV3NHXgns7sIbyCMxQgziBDDg-ocumYxnVDLtzI94pOQ&oe=670BBEEE	PERSON_PROFILE	Generous Disability	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,120,569	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2120567}'	No	2024-10-08 20:22	active	1595	PHMUSEUM 2024 WOMEN PHOTOGRAPHERS GRANT	LAST CHANCE TO APPLY \| DEADLINE 10 OCTOBER - Present your work for $10,000 in cash prizes, a solo show at PhMuseum Lab, screenings at Photo Vogue Festival and more. Photo © Orianne Ciantar Olive	APPLY_NOW	https://phmuseum.com/grants/2024-women-photographe	PHmuseum	https://www.facebook.com/phmuseum/	91,915	1969-12-31 18:00	Apply Now	phmuseum.com	DCO	Show your work to an independent jury comprising Gem Fletcher (Writer, Host The Messy Truth podcast), Farah Al Qasimi (Visual Artist), Danaé Panchaud (Curator, Museologist, Lecturer and Director Centre de la photographie Genève), and Pixy Liao (Visual Artist)	https://phmuseum.com/grants/2024-women-photographers-grant	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/462478916_1087518759459076_4737895199062213757_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=100&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=gP3pqH_rhFUQ7kNvgFCRXYw&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=AWEiYz2SVa-rBCzj60LnaNn&oh=00_AYBefjjFrSg1ztJugEOqt1ho6ygmncS_ph6DtBdTNIa20Q&oe=670BB0A7	PERSON_PROFILE	PHmuseum	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,120,581	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2120567}'	Yes	2024-10-08 20:22	active	1595	PHMUSEUM 2024 WOMEN PHOTOGRAPHERS GRANT	LAST CHANCE TO APPLY \| DEADLINE 10 OCTOBER - Present your work for $10,000 in cash prizes, a solo show at PhMuseum Lab, screenings at Photo Vogue Festival and more. Photo © Maria Siorba	APPLY_NOW	https://phmuseum.com/grants/2024-women-photographe	PHmuseum	https://www.facebook.com/phmuseum/	91,915	1969-12-31 18:00	Apply Now	phmuseum.com	DCO	Show your work to an independent jury comprising Gem Fletcher (Writer, Host The Messy Truth podcast), Farah Al Qasimi (Visual Artist), Danaé Panchaud (Curator, Museologist, Lecturer and Director Centre de la photographie Genève), and Pixy Liao (Visual Artist)	https://phmuseum.com/grants/2024-women-photographers-grant	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/462223625_876168641287349_7164694399623943039_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=109&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=Yq7Xd4j_HScQ7kNvgFK-sq6&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=ASkUX6sxae2rd489801-GSE&oh=00_AYB0VHNbZTOzJ7UENPa7pBGOtYZOMg-5ByiS3tGpnV3Kog&oe=670BC5E1	PERSON_PROFILE	PHmuseum	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,120,589	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2120567}'	Yes	2024-10-08 20:22	active	1595	PHMUSEUM 2024 WOMEN PHOTOGRAPHERS GRANT	LAST CHANCE TO APPLY \| DEADLINE 10 OCTOBER - Present your work for $10,000 in cash prizes, a solo show at PhMuseum Lab, screenings at Photo Vogue Festival and more. Photo © Marina Zabenzi	APPLY_NOW	https://phmuseum.com/grants/2024-women-photographe	PHmuseum	https://www.facebook.com/phmuseum/	91,915	1969-12-31 18:00	Apply Now	phmuseum.com	DCO	Show your work to an independent jury comprising Gem Fletcher (Writer, Host The Messy Truth podcast), Farah Al Qasimi (Visual Artist), Danaé Panchaud (Curator, Museologist, Lecturer and Director Centre de la photographie Genève), and Pixy Liao (Visual Artist)	https://phmuseum.com/grants/2024-women-photographers-grant	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/462358600_2095507544184789_3037751866551064587_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=103&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=CJ-Jm19ZIcAQ7kNvgERAQ-6&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=ASkUX6sxae2rd489801-GSE&oh=00_AYC0m_LSc4fXGLri3xvH3aFZfXKk_hRtr_2vpjlu2RLvkA&oe=670BB8D1	PERSON_PROFILE	PHmuseum	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,120,606	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2120567}'	No	2024-10-08 20:22	active	1595	PHMUSEUM 2024 WOMEN PHOTOGRAPHERS GRANT	LAST CHANCE TO APPLY \| DEADLINE 10 OCTOBER - Present your work for $10,000 in cash prizes, a solo show at PhMuseum Lab, screenings at Photo Vogue Festival and more. Photo © Philippa James	APPLY_NOW	https://phmuseum.com/grants/2024-women-photographe	PHmuseum	https://www.facebook.com/phmuseum/	91,915	1969-12-31 18:00	Apply Now	phmuseum.com	DCO	Show your work to an independent jury comprising Gem Fletcher (Writer, Host The Messy Truth podcast), Farah Al Qasimi (Visual Artist), Danaé Panchaud (Curator, Museologist, Lecturer and Director Centre de la photographie Genève), and Pixy Liao (Visual Artist)	https://phmuseum.com/grants/2024-women-photographers-grant	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/462114747_1215919492965950_5928523345936783431_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=103&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=C9-w29zIUooQ7kNvgGr1As3&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=ASkUX6sxae2rd489801-GSE&oh=00_AYAE7jU3eqdeCTFFVIAQchJ6HsSnETh4PMVsIofiy96eGQ&oe=670BB0EE	PERSON_PROFILE	PHmuseum	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
2,121,949	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2121960}'	No	2024-10-08 20:52	active	1596	🔞🔥 Continuer la lecture ➤➤	(Lily POV) Today is my 14th birthday. There will not be birthday cake, singing, or a party. Instead, we are attending a funeral. My sister's funeral, to be exact. Before my sister... died... we had a large party planned for me. I normally do not have a big party, but 14th birthdays are a really big event to werewolves. They are the day that we first meet our wolves. The next monumental birthday is our 20th birthday; that is when can first identify our fated mates. I am our Beta’s youngest daughter, and my father is loved and well-respected. Everyone was excited to meet my wolf and to see what type of wolf she would be. Thus, the guest list for my party was pretty large, and it included ranked wolves from nearby packs. I am normally a little bit of a loner, hence why I usually do not have a big birthday party. However, for this particular occasion, I was happy to have a lot of guests. Meeting your wolf comes with the first shift/ transition, and that can be incredibly painful. As inherently social creatures, the only thing known to help wolves with the pain of the first shift is to have supportive family, friends, and community around you. The way that it typically works is that the pack will host a dinner or barbeque in your honor. As night falls, and the moon replaces the sun in the sky, everyone will gather inside the pack amphitheater. The shifter-to-be will stand in the middle of the amphitheater while guests quietly chant well wishes and prayers to the Moon Goddess. The energy in the space can be electrifying for everyone present, no matter whether there are 25 attendees or 500. Once the first shift is completed, the new wolf will prance around the stage and strut their stuff. The crowd will “ooh” and “aah” until the pack alpha approaches, learns the new wolf’s name, and introduces the wolf to the crowd. The new wolf will also swear his or her allegiance to the pack and to the alpha, allowing the wolf to mind-link with other pack wolves. Finally, the new wolf and any guests old enough to shift will go for a pack run. The whole process is incredibly special and exciting. As you might imagine, décor is also an important part of the party planning process. Each shifter gets to decide the decorations and party theme that will be used for their party. If more than one wolf turns 14 on the same day, the wolves can either agree on a theme or split the party into parts that they can individually decorate. The pack luna will then work some sort of magic that somehow blends the individual areas into one cohesive theme in the center. My birthday is in October, and despite how large our pack is, I am the only one born on that day. I love having an October birthday because my favorite season is fall. For my décor, I had picked flowers and decorations in rich fall colors, including deep oranges, reds, and greens. Unfortunately, none of my party decorations will be used. Or rather, none of my decorations will be used for me. As I mentioned, we are holding a funeral today instead. My oldest sister, Stephanie, died this morning. Pack and religious tradition dictates that we must hold funerals within 24 hours of death. Because Stephanie died shortly after midnight, her funeral must be held today. All food and décor set aside for my birthday party was therefore immediately diverted for the funeral; thankfully my fall themed colors were sufficiently somber-ish to work. All decorations that seemed relatively “happy”, celebratory, or that mention me have been removed. Pictures of Stephanie have now been placed on tables and podiums, and the music I selected has been swapped out for songs about loss or Stephanie’s favorites. The loss of Stephanie is a really hurting. Not only was she my sister and my parents’ oldest and favorite child, she was also widely anticipated to be the mate of Alpha Randall’s son, James, which meant she was most likely the future luna of our pack. Stephanie would have turned 20 in three months, and she and James would have been able to confirm that they were mates then. The pack was so sure that they were mates —and Alpha Randall was so eager to turn the pack over to James and his mate, once she was identified and ready to take on the luna position— that they deviated from standard protocols and decided to begin Stephanie’s Luna training just after she turned 18. If I am being completely honest, something never sat right with me about Stephanie starting Luna training. Part of it is what Stephanie's Luna training meant for me, but that is a separate conversation. The biggest thing was that I did not understand why luna training could not wait until Stephanie turned 20 and could confirm who her mate was. Lunas for generations have waited for their training; why couldn't Stephanie? It also bothered me quite a bit to watch Stephanie hang all over James at pack functions. Our pack frowned upon dating and public displays of affection prior to finding your mate; it created too much risk for problems, anger, and jealousy once your mate was located. For whatever reason, an exception was made for Stephanie. But then again, exceptions always were made for her. Stephanie was strong and absolutely beautiful, and the pack knew her as being kind, smart, and energetic. She could do no wrong in the eyes of my parents, the alpha, or the pack. I hope I do not sound too jealous or bitter. I loved my sister, and her death is hitting me really hard. It’s just that…. I knew a different side of my sister than everyone else, and I know more than anyone that my sister was far from perfect. Had I spoken up before she died, I would have been accused of jealousy and lying. And were I to speak up now, well… I would be accused of jealousy, lying, AND improperly speaking ill of the dead. It is easier to just let it go. Along with my birthday. It isn't that important anyway. I do not want to be selfish or self-centered. The only immediate problem with letting go is that --bad timing or not-- I am going to shift for the first time tonight. There is nothing I can do to stop or postpone it, as much as I would like to do so. I am worried about how it is going to go. Hopefully, during the reception, my mother or father or brother or someone will be willing to step aside with me for a 20-30 minutes just to get me through it. We could then return and act like everything is normal. Or as normal as it can be with Stephanie now gone. Sadly, I should have known that nothing in life is that easy. Chapter 2: The Little Brat (James POV) I watch sadly as the casket is carried from the temple to the burial grounds. It is a cold October day, and the gray sky and drizzly weather adds to the overall somber atmosphere. I cannot help but be impressed at how quickly the pack was able to pull everything together for Stephanie's funeral. All funerals happen quickly in our world, but because of how fast the funerals must take place, the décor and guest list is usually somewhat lacking. It is a testament to how much Stephanie was loved that they were able to put together so many beautiful floral arrangements in her honor, and that so many people were able to be here to honor her life, including many wolves from other packs. If it wasn't for it being such a horrible occasion, I would actually describe the color scheme as beautiful. Then again, fall has always been one of my favorite seasons. I am vaguely aware that we had some other function on the calendar today, but I honestly cannot think of what it was. With a large pack —the West Mountain Pack has over 10,000 members— we have a lot of functions. As the future alpha, I am expected to attend as many of them as I possibly can, but no one expects me to remember what they all are… even if I try to pretend in the moment. Unless reminded by an Omega or my amazing girlfriend, I can't even seem to remember my own mother and father's birthdays most of the time. My amazing girlfriend. I sigh, wiping a tear from my eye. She will never again be around to remind me about birthdays. Sadly, there will be no pretending that I know what today's ceremony is about. Stephanie Brogan was the love of my life, and she was my future mate and luna. I still cannot believe that she is gone. We never even got to fully experience the mate bond, including the sparks betwwen us. Had she lived just three months longer, our wolves would have confirmed one another as mates and Stephanie would have been able to formally claim her proper place in my bed and in my life. Instead of welcoming her body into my bed, I am saying good-bye to her today. I am also saying good-bye to all of our future plans and dreams together. I cannot help but feel anger and resentment about that. This is not how things were supposed to be. As I watch the funeral procession go by --my father, mother, and I, along with the beta family, must stand at the entrance as guests move from the temple to the burial grounds-- I catch a glimpse of Stephanie’s younger sister, Lily. She is standing next to her mother. She looks both sad and innocent, which causes the anger in my body to rise even more. That little brat is the reason that Stephanie is dead. *FLASHBACK TO LAST NIGHT* Stephanie and I are cuddled on the couch in the packhouse living room watching a movie. I have my hand on her arm and I am about to kiss her when she gets distracted by a text message. Stephanie did not let me see the message, which annoys me, but she quickly explains that Lily is lost in the forest after having snuck out to meet a boy. Stephanie’s sister is 13 or 14 years old. She has all the teenage acne and attitude that comes along with being that young. Unlike Stephanie —who has beautiful blond hair and hazel eyes— Lily has reddish brown hair and bright green eyes. Or at least I think they are bright green; she usually has them covered up with large black glasses. Stephanie gets up and tells me that Lily has texted her, begging her to come and find her. I am annoyed by the interruption, but I offer to go with Stephanie to get the little brat. Stephanie says Lily will be upset if anyone else knows about her little escapade. Stephanie reassures me that she will be fine, and then gives me a quick peck. My wolf and I have a bad feeling when Stephanie leaves, but Stephanie has us wrapped around her little finger. It is almost impossible for my wolf and I to disagree with her about anything. We pause the movie and decide to get some work done in my dad's office while we wait for Stephanie to get back. I am a night owl anyway, so I do not mind waiting. Unfortunately, about an hour after Stephanie leaves, I get an urgent mind-link from our pack warriors. They report that the Little Brat had been spotted running out of the woods screaming for help. Before they can say much more, I shift into my wolf form and take off running. I follow Stephanie’s scent far into the woods…. until I come to a small clearing, which is covered in Stephanie’s blood. Her bloody clothes are tossed around, and chunks of her hair are thrown about as well. It is the worst, most savage site that I have ever seen. The smell of rogues is all over, so it is fairly obvious what has happened. The a---holes didn’t even bother to leave her body. *END OF FLASHBACK* Tears threaten to continue to fall as I think back to the scene last night. I have not slept or eaten since I found what was left of Stephanie, and I am having trouble holding my emotions together. Now that my eyes have spotted Lily, my anger with her becomes a welcome distraction. I have a very hard time looking away from her. The truth is that I have always found myself strangely curious about her, but today… today all I want to do is take my anger out on someone, and she seems as good a target as anyone else. Her teenage behavior cost me my mate! And it cost this pack its future luna! My wolf, Luke, begs me to calm down. It is an interesting thing, having the wolf side try to calm the human side. As upset and angry and emotional as I am, it is tempting to ignore him and immediately start teach that Little Brat a lesson. However, I decide to follow Luke's advice after he reminds me that Stephanie deserves to have her funeral be all about her and not some whiny teenage brat. That does not mean that I am going to let Lily get away with what she has done, but I wait until a more appropriate time to take my revenge. I turn my focus back to Stephanie’s casket, which we filled with her bloody clothes, hair, and anything that could be found at the site that had her blood on it. The casket has been brought to the center of the amphitheater. The alpha and beta families take their seats in the front row, and my father and the pack priest move beside the casket to begin the ceremony. The ceremony involves a lot of prayers, rituals, and speakers. The average ceremony takes 2-3 hours, and Stephanie's will most likely take closer to 4-5 hours given her status in the pack and how beloved she was. During the ceremony, I keep trying to distract myself by looking around as others around me. I do not want to be seen as weak by curling into the fetal position and wailing like a baby, even though that is the only thing I want to do right now. My heart breaks as I glance at Stephanie’s parents next to me in the front row, holding on to one another as they cry. Seeing Stephanie’s father —a strong, powerful Beta wolf— break down is a sight I have very rarely seen. The pain in his eyes is heart-wrenching. I also notice Stephanie's brother, Nick, as he clings to his mate, Jenny. Both of them are crying as well. Nick is my best friend, and I have known him since we were tiny pups, but I have literally never seen him cry. I notice that there are no dry eyes anywhere. Even my father has a few stray tears running down his cheeks, although I am sure he would punch anyone who pointed it out. He is a proud man, just like me. As the sky continues to darken, I notice the Little Brat starting to act like she is uncomfortable in her seat. I can tell that Stephanie's mother is getting agitated, and rightly so. For once, can the Little Brat not think about something other than herself? Seriously. It is one ceremony. Just one. For an older sister who died trying to help her. How dare the Little Brat not hold herself together? The next thing I know, the moon is high in the sky and the final rites are being spoken by the priest. As exactly that moment, the Little Brat whispers something in her mother’s ear. Her mother turns and glares at her, causing the Little Brat to put her head down. I then watch as the Little Brat stands up and walks away. She looks like she is in pain, and I hope that she is. How dare she walk away from her sister’s funeral! Especially in the middle of the last rites! I am tempted to follow her and give her a piece of my mind, but Stephanie means more to me than that. I remind myself once again that I will get my revenge on Lily aka the Little Brat soon enough. For tonight, I must remain focused on the love of my life. Chapter 3: Lily Meets Rose “Y-yes.” “Good. Now open your eyes.” I opened my eyes and immediately noticed that I was not human anymore. My feet and hands were paws. I then looked into the water that pooled at the edge of the waterfall, and I saw my reflection… or rather the reflection of Rose. My heart stopped. There are many different types of wolves —alpha wolves; beta wolves; gamma wolves; warrior wolves; silver wolves; white wolves; red wolves; omega wolves. And even within those categories, there are varying sizes and colors and markings. We learn about the types of wolves in school. “Expect the unexpected” was a phrase that was often said about the first transition, but in reality your wolf generally follows your lineage: the children of alpha wolves will generally be alpha wolves; the children of beta wolves will generally be beta wolves; and so on. Typically, the big excitement —especially with children of ranked wolves— centers on the size, color, and personality of the new wolf. Looking back at me in the reflection of the pool was a type of wolf I had never seen or learned about in school. Rose’s fur was a beautiful bluish-silver color that almost glowed. On the right side of her rump was a large black crescent moon symbol, and the black coloring of that symbol matched her solid black paws and black tail. In addition, I noticed that Rose was huge. Although it was tough to tell, it appeared to me that Rose was at least as large as some alpha wolves. “What type of wolf are we, Rose?” “A special type. You will learn more as time goes on, but know that the Moon Goddess has blessed you and I, Lily.” I did not say anything; I was not sure what to say. Rose and I sat by the waterfall for a while longer, until I remembered Stephanie’s funeral. “We need to get back!” I told Rose in a panic. Rose guided me through how to transform back to our human form, and I frantically searched the nearby trees for clothes. I found a men’s t-shirt and shorts. Both were far too big for my small frame, so I opted to just put the t-shirt on. I also grabbed my eye-glasses off the ground and put them on; thankfully they did not break during the transition. Now that I had Rose, I would not need the glasses anymore because she would heal my eyes. However, Rose warned me that —for now— it was best that I continue to wear the glasses and let the pack believe that I did not yet have my wolf. I thought it was a curious thing for her to say, but I had no reason to not trust her. I hurried back to the packhouse and got into the beta suite, hoping to quickly change clothes and re-join the mourning crowd. Unfortunately, once I got in the suite, I was met with the angry, accusing eyes of my mother. “WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? HOW DARE YOU MAKE A SCENE AT YOUR SISTER’S FUNERAL! HAVE YOU NO SHAME? ARE YOU SO SELFISH AND SELF-CENTERED THAT YOU CAN THINK OF NO ONE BUT YOURSELF?” I said nothing. What could I say? My mother then did something that, in my 14 years, she had never done before. She slapped me. Hard. And the beating continued from there. Chapter 4: Living in the Shadows (6 years later) (Lily POV) Six years have now passed since that fateful day that Stephanie died. I wish that I could say that life has moved on, and that we have found good in the bad... but for the most part, it isn't true. Stephanie is just as much a part of this pack today as she was before she died. And the grief felt in the pack is just as raw and angry as it was that first day. If anything has changed, it is that --instead of Stephanie being out in the center of things-- she lives on almost like a shadow over everything. She now has a couple of streets named after her --Stephanie Lane and Steffie Avenue (her nickname was "Steffie"); and you can quite literally find some of her favorite outfits on display in glass cases at various places throughout the pack. Even more bizarre, the day she died was turned into a pack holiday, as was her birthday. Everyone but pack omegas have both days off from work, school, and training, and there are somber celebrations and remembrances planned to commemorate each occasion. I once made the mistake of asking my parents whether this was a normal reaction to the death of a single she-wolf. We can love and miss her, but to continue to hold large ceremonies every year? And to treat her as a saint and forget that she had a human side too? That seemed a bit too much to me. As far as I know, the pack has never done this for any other luna or future luna, and it only honors 2-3 historical alphas in such a manner. I was rewarded for my questions by being called jealous and hateful. (I also received a significant beating, but beatings had become commonplace from my mother, so I cannot say that my question necessarily triggered the beating I received that day. Plus, the beating hurt far less than what I received before Stephanie died. But for the slight pain and who did the beating, I almost would not have minded.) Overall, I think the worst part of losing Stephanie six years ago wasn't losing Stephanie... it was how losing Stephanie impacted my relationship with my parents and other pack members. Before Stephanie died, I was well aware that Stephanie was my parents' favorite. My older brother Nick and I would even joke about it from time to time. But even though Stephanie was their favorite, they still treated me really well and loved me. They never would have raised a hand to me before Stephanie died. After Stephanie died, however, my parents could barely look at me. And when they did, I saw the unmistakable wish in their eyes that it had been me, not Stephanie, that died that fateful night. In addition, my parents stopped caring about my well-being generally. I lived in their house until I was 17, but I was responsible for my own meals and necessities. I was forced to take on a part-time job at a nearby diner just to ensure I had clothes and food to eat. (I technically could have eaten the food that was available in the packhouse, but the dirty looks and mean comments made by my parents, James, and other pack members were enough to make that an unrealistic option.) Also, in case you are wondering, I have not celebrated a birthday since Stephanie died. Not one single soul other than Rose has bothered to tell me happy birthday. No one even bothered to ask me whether I had received my wolf. That wasn't because birthdays stopped being important; it was just mine whose meaning changed. I attended plenty of birthday parties, and the pack hosted plenty of 14th birthday celebrations. In fact, I think it was because of one of those birthday celebrations that someone finally questioned whether I had received a wolf. It was a legitimate question, given that I was over 14 and never joined a pack run. Rose encouraged me early on to skip them "for safety reasons," and I was all too happy to do so. Had anyone bothered to ask me directly about my wolf or about why I was skipping the pack runs, I would have been honest... but no one ever did. Instead, a rumor spread that I was wolfless. Pack members speculated that I lost my wolf as a result of post-traumatic stress from losing Stephanie and/or guilt for what I had done to Stephanie. That latter theory was the one that really got under my skin, because I knew that was a theory and rumor spread by James. Shortly after Stephanie's funeral, he told my parents and most of the pack that Stephanie was only in the forest that night to save me. He also said I had gone out to meet a boy. I have no idea why he would say such things; I have never had a boyfriend and Stephanie was the one who asked me to meet her in the forest. This rumor was the main reason that I received a beating from my mother the night of my first shift. And it probably adds to the reason that pack members wish me dead. Notably, though, I have never dared to defend myself. To tell the truth would be the equivalent of talking negatively of both Stephanie and our future alpha.... and would likely lead to a death sentence. So instead, I have always just pushed through. One of the ways that I have survived is to hold on to the faith that one day things will be different. Another thing that I have done is take every last opportunity to leave the pack. For example, I hurried through high school so that I could graduate early, and I then went away to college. To avoid coming home, I have been loading up on credit hours and taking every term of school -including the mini winter sessions-- that I can get. I am also taking advantage of a unique expedited program offered just for werewolves doctors. Given all of these things, I actually expect that I can become a fully licensed werewolf doctor in just a couple more years. Until I become fully licensed and independent, I will have to continue to bear the shadow of my sister and the pain that comes with it. I am required to be present for both of her holidays --all pack members are; there are no exceptions-- but thankfully those are among the very few times that I can reliably be found at the Western Mountain pack these days. My ultimate goal is to meet my mate and become a pack doctor in his pack... which I pray to the Moon Goddess is not the Western Mountain pack. If, Goddess forbid, my mate is in this pack, perhaps I can convince him to transfer packs with me. Goddess willing. Tomorrow is my birthday. I guess we will find out then. Chapter 5: Without His Luna (James POV) Tomorrow will mark six years since Stephanie died. Everything and nothing has changed. I still think of Stephanie every single day. Her beautiful smile. Her laugh. The kindness that she showed to pack members. The ethusiam that she showed for her luna training. Stephanie would have been an amazing and strong luna. Had Stephanie lived, we would have been happily married by now. We would probably have already had at least two adorable pups, who would have been doted on by two loving sets of grandparents. Together, Stephanie and I would have been leading the West Mountain Pack to new heights. Of course, Stephanie is no longer here. And without Stephanie… Well, without Stephanie, I am only a fraction of the man that I used to be, and only a fraction of the wolf. Without Stephanie, I am not even Alpha yet. In our world, most alpha heirs take over from their fathers between 25 and 30 years old. That timing ensures that most alphas will have already found their mates before they take over the running of a pack. Running a pack is not easy to do by yourself. Even with a strong beta and a strong gamma, a luna’s importance to a pack cannot be underestimated. A luna brings heart and balance to a pack and to the alpha himself. She is the alpha’s equal, and she is one of the few werewolves in the pack who can get away with challenging and questioning an alpha’s decisions. If she exercises her role properly and judiciously, a luna’s presence can lead to better overall outcomes, decisions, and governing. This is especially true if the luna is the alpha’s fated mate, because it means she takes on her role with the blessing of the Moon Goddess. Alpha heirs who take over their packs prior to turning 25 typically do so either out of necessity, or because they have been fortunate to have been mated very early to a strong luna. Six years ago, when Stephanie was still alive, my father thought we were going to be part of the lucky latter category. He had been very eager to take an early retirement. He and my mother had fantasized about all the European trips and Caribbean cruises that they would take after I was sworn in as alpha, and they had already had tentative plans for at least one of those trips. Of course, all of those plans were ultimately scrapped. Today, I am old enough to take over as alpha, even without a luna by my side… but my father is concerned that I am not mentally strong enough to do so yet. He sees me as broken. My father is probably right. It is a little hard not to feel broken. The reminders of Stephanie are everywhere. Even after six long years, I feel like I cannot escape from the reminders or from my grief, and it is suffocating. The packhouse has practically turned into a mini museum to her, and almost all of the local businesses have some sort of small dedication, whether it be a dedicated drink, food item, picture, or shelf of Stephanie-inspired items. Worse, twice a year, we hold a series of ceremonies and remembrances for Stephanie. As Stephanie’s mate and as the future alpha heir, I am expected to attend every one of them. I want to be there. I know that I should be there. But… It is complete and utter torture. Every day without Stephanie is difficult, but Stephanie’s birthdays and death anniversaries always hit me the hardest. What I want to do more than anything on those two days is be by myself so that I can process my grief. There is a waterfall that I like to go to. If I could, I would spend all day there on both days. The waterfall isn’t exactly hidden, but to find it, you have to go pretty far within the woods and know where to go. As far as I know, I am the only one in our pack who ever goes there. Being at the waterfall brings me comfort; it always has. That is where I want to be when I am grieving or upset. Unfortunately, instead of spending time in the comfort of my waterfall, I have to spend the two hardest days each year out in public with almost 20,000 eyes watching my every move and every reaction. Instead of just… grieving… I have to be conscientious of how every display of emotion can impact and be perceived by the pack members. As I listen to pack members, Stephanie’s parents, and my own parents take turns telling stories about Stephanie and her good deeds, I am expected to somehow strike an impossible balance between sadness and strength. At each of the events, year after year, the remembrances are largely the same. At this point, I practically have the speeches memorized. The speeches usually include stories about how Stephanie would bake cookies and send her sister to deliver them to the guards working the late-night shift on the borders. And stories about how any time anyone was injured in training or at battle, she would not only have her sister deliver care baskets to patients at the hospital, but she would also put one together for any family members separated from them while they were recovering. My parents talk about how eager Stephanie was to take on her position as luna, and how dedicated she was to her training, even working on lessons for hours at home multiple times per week. Stephanie’s parents talk about their prior dreams for their daughter and the hole they continue to feel in their hearts. Nick talks about how family celebrations do not feel the same without Stephanie there, and Jenny talks about wishing that she still had a sister-in-law to bond with and engage in girl talk. The only blessing is that —as the grieving mate— no one expects me to say anything at these events. But that does not spare me from the staring and judgment. If I show too much sadness, pack members worry that I am weak and will not able to be the leader of the pack in the future. If I seem too stoic or show too much “strength,” pack members could perceive me being disrespectful towards Stephanie’s memory. They will also worry that my reign as alpha will lack balance and compassion…. which I already hear whispers about from time to time. Sometimes, I feel angry about the whole thing. I would never, ever expect anyone who has lost their mate to put themselves on a stage multiple times a year and be judged on whether their external grief is appropriate enough. And yet my parents have no problem doing it to me. I tried to push back once, but only once. As you can imagine, it did not go well. I started the conversation by telling my parents that I did not think it was healthy for me to be surrounded by constant reminders of Stephanie, and I told them that I thought the constant remembrances were counterproductive to my mental health. I suggested that we scale back the events, or make them more private affairs. My father got angry and accused me of being selfish. He told me that being uncomfortable and coping with the pressure of judgmental pack members is part of being an alpha. Meanwhile, my mother reminded me that the ceremonies had been Stephanie’s parents’ idea, and she asked me if I wanted to be the one to tell them it was no longer important to celebrate Stephanie’s life. No, of course I did not want to tell Stephanie's parents that. No, I did not want to be selfish. I just wanted --and still want-- to not feel so sad all the time. Six years in, and the only reprieve I ever get from my grief is when the Little Brat is around. She has made herself scarce the last few years, but when she is around, my wolf and I can sense her from a mile away. My wolf and I fight about her all the time --for some reason, Luke seems to have a soft spot for the Little Brat-- but we can agree that it is nice having her around. For me, it's because I have a worthy target for my anger and rage. Chapter 8: Daddy's Girl (Lily POV) The drive to the pack house was eerily silent. After my father and I arrived at the pack house, my father quickly exited the vehicle and headed to his office, leaving me on my own. I timidly and cautiously got into the beta suite, but I was relieved to find that my mother was already in bed. I decided to go directly to my room and try to sleep as well. Unfortunately, I ended up tossing and turning all night. The look on my father's face when talking to the guards continued to haunt me. When I did sleep, I had nightmares. Strangely, Rose seemed restless too, but other than briefly wishing me a happy birthday after it hit midnight, she did not say anything. I think the main thing that provoked my nightmares and kept me up was that my heart ached for my father. I knew that I wanted to help him with his pain and ease his suffering, but I was not sure what I could do or say to make things better. It has already been six years. If time has not helped heal his heart, what could I do? The truth is, I am not Stephanie and I never will be. The only thing I have ever known how to do for my father is to try to stay out of his way. At least for my mother, I can serve as a literal punching bag to help her relieve her grief. And for others in the pack, I can serve as both a literal and metaphorical punching bag. But, I am nothing to my father: my father has neglected me and ignored the sufferings I went through, but he has never directly participated in any of them. Perhaps that is one reason his pain upsets me more than the pain of everyone else. He is the least awful amongst my current tormentors, and I can sometimes lie to myself that he does not know or agree with how much I have suffered. I know that it probably seems strange that my heart aches for him at all, given that he is someone who, for the most part, could care less about me. However, please understand that for my own sanity, I have chosen to remember and hold on to the good times in my childhood. Of course, there is also the fact that... regardless of how my father currently feels about me... I have always been --and will probably always be-- a daddy's girl. It is just part of who I am. Since I was in diapers, I have looked up to my father and considered him to be my superhero. Before Stephanie died, I never saw an ounce of weakness in him. He was my strength and my rock. I always had an strong desire to make him proud of me. He was always the first one I ran to when I got a good grade on a test, or when I drew a picture I thought he might like. And ...before Stephanie died... he was always the first one to dry my tears when I got hurt or to give me reassuring praise when I felt down. Even though I knew Stephanie was his favorite... even though I knew Stephanie's accomplishments would always be greater, and that he would always be more proud of her... those little things mattered to me. I lived for those moments. Sigh. By 5:30 am, I gave up on any hope of further sleep. Stephanie's first remembrance event was not scheduled until 11 am, so I knew I had a little bit of time. Eager to take advantage of that time and also avoid my mother, I took a quick shower, packed a small backpack, and headed out of the house. Predictably, my feet led me to the waterfall that I had shifted in front of six years ago. I have come here at least twice a year since Stephanie died, usually on her birthday and death anniversary. The waterfall brings me an odd sense of peace. As beautiful as it is, I do not know anyone else who comes here. Perhaps that is why I like it so much. I sighed. "It is easy to tell myself that when I am away from the pack and not having to cope with the consequences. It is a lot harder to believe that I am blameless when everyone around me is crying and upset all the time. You saw my dad last night. That nearly broke me. He is still hurting so much." "That does not make any of it your fault," Rose protests. "Rose, the day before Stephanie died, I prayed that the Moon Goddess stop Stephanie from continuing to hurt me." "She was not hurting you, Lily. She was torturing you. There is nothing wrong with you praying that it stop." "There is if it cost Stephanie her life." "Lily, you are not giving the Moon Goddess enough credit. You are smarter and stronger than this. You need to stop with the emotional vomit and ---" Suddenly Rose stops talking through the link. She is pacing back in forth in my head. I have no idea what is going on, until the overwhelming scent of vanilla and coffee beans hits my nose. "Mate! Lily, our mate is here! Mate, mate, mate, mate, mate!!!" I stand, dust the ashes off of my jeans, and turn around. My heart drops when I recognize the werewolf standing about 200 feet away from me. This has to be a joke. This cannot be happening.	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2,121,953	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2121960}'	No	2024-10-08 20:52	active	1596	🔞🔥 Continuer la lecture ➤➤	(Lily POV) Today is my 14th birthday. There will not be birthday cake, singing, or a party. Instead, we are attending a funeral. My sister's funeral, to be exact. Before my sister... died... we had a large party planned for me. I normally do not have a big party, but 14th birthdays are a really big event to werewolves. They are the day that we first meet our wolves. The next monumental birthday is our 20th birthday; that is when can first identify our fated mates. I am our Beta’s youngest daughter, and my father is loved and well-respected. Everyone was excited to meet my wolf and to see what type of wolf she would be. Thus, the guest list for my party was pretty large, and it included ranked wolves from nearby packs. I am normally a little bit of a loner, hence why I usually do not have a big birthday party. However, for this particular occasion, I was happy to have a lot of guests. Meeting your wolf comes with the first shift/ transition, and that can be incredibly painful. As inherently social creatures, the only thing known to help wolves with the pain of the first shift is to have supportive family, friends, and community around you. The way that it typically works is that the pack will host a dinner or barbeque in your honor. As night falls, and the moon replaces the sun in the sky, everyone will gather inside the pack amphitheater. The shifter-to-be will stand in the middle of the amphitheater while guests quietly chant well wishes and prayers to the Moon Goddess. The energy in the space can be electrifying for everyone present, no matter whether there are 25 attendees or 500. Once the first shift is completed, the new wolf will prance around the stage and strut their stuff. The crowd will “ooh” and “aah” until the pack alpha approaches, learns the new wolf’s name, and introduces the wolf to the crowd. The new wolf will also swear his or her allegiance to the pack and to the alpha, allowing the wolf to mind-link with other pack wolves. Finally, the new wolf and any guests old enough to shift will go for a pack run. The whole process is incredibly special and exciting. As you might imagine, décor is also an important part of the party planning process. Each shifter gets to decide the decorations and party theme that will be used for their party. If more than one wolf turns 14 on the same day, the wolves can either agree on a theme or split the party into parts that they can individually decorate. The pack luna will then work some sort of magic that somehow blends the individual areas into one cohesive theme in the center. My birthday is in October, and despite how large our pack is, I am the only one born on that day. I love having an October birthday because my favorite season is fall. For my décor, I had picked flowers and decorations in rich fall colors, including deep oranges, reds, and greens. Unfortunately, none of my party decorations will be used. Or rather, none of my decorations will be used for me. As I mentioned, we are holding a funeral today instead. My oldest sister, Stephanie, died this morning. Pack and religious tradition dictates that we must hold funerals within 24 hours of death. Because Stephanie died shortly after midnight, her funeral must be held today. All food and décor set aside for my birthday party was therefore immediately diverted for the funeral; thankfully my fall themed colors were sufficiently somber-ish to work. All decorations that seemed relatively “happy”, celebratory, or that mention me have been removed. Pictures of Stephanie have now been placed on tables and podiums, and the music I selected has been swapped out for songs about loss or Stephanie’s favorites. The loss of Stephanie is a really hurting. Not only was she my sister and my parents’ oldest and favorite child, she was also widely anticipated to be the mate of Alpha Randall’s son, James, which meant she was most likely the future luna of our pack. Stephanie would have turned 20 in three months, and she and James would have been able to confirm that they were mates then. The pack was so sure that they were mates —and Alpha Randall was so eager to turn the pack over to James and his mate, once she was identified and ready to take on the luna position— that they deviated from standard protocols and decided to begin Stephanie’s Luna training just after she turned 18. If I am being completely honest, something never sat right with me about Stephanie starting Luna training. Part of it is what Stephanie's Luna training meant for me, but that is a separate conversation. The biggest thing was that I did not understand why luna training could not wait until Stephanie turned 20 and could confirm who her mate was. Lunas for generations have waited for their training; why couldn't Stephanie? It also bothered me quite a bit to watch Stephanie hang all over James at pack functions. Our pack frowned upon dating and public displays of affection prior to finding your mate; it created too much risk for problems, anger, and jealousy once your mate was located. For whatever reason, an exception was made for Stephanie. But then again, exceptions always were made for her. Stephanie was strong and absolutely beautiful, and the pack knew her as being kind, smart, and energetic. She could do no wrong in the eyes of my parents, the alpha, or the pack. I hope I do not sound too jealous or bitter. I loved my sister, and her death is hitting me really hard. It’s just that…. I knew a different side of my sister than everyone else, and I know more than anyone that my sister was far from perfect. Had I spoken up before she died, I would have been accused of jealousy and lying. And were I to speak up now, well… I would be accused of jealousy, lying, AND improperly speaking ill of the dead. It is easier to just let it go. Along with my birthday. It isn't that important anyway. I do not want to be selfish or self-centered. The only immediate problem with letting go is that --bad timing or not-- I am going to shift for the first time tonight. There is nothing I can do to stop or postpone it, as much as I would like to do so. I am worried about how it is going to go. Hopefully, during the reception, my mother or father or brother or someone will be willing to step aside with me for a 20-30 minutes just to get me through it. We could then return and act like everything is normal. Or as normal as it can be with Stephanie now gone. Sadly, I should have known that nothing in life is that easy. Chapter 2: The Little Brat (James POV) I watch sadly as the casket is carried from the temple to the burial grounds. It is a cold October day, and the gray sky and drizzly weather adds to the overall somber atmosphere. I cannot help but be impressed at how quickly the pack was able to pull everything together for Stephanie's funeral. All funerals happen quickly in our world, but because of how fast the funerals must take place, the décor and guest list is usually somewhat lacking. It is a testament to how much Stephanie was loved that they were able to put together so many beautiful floral arrangements in her honor, and that so many people were able to be here to honor her life, including many wolves from other packs. If it wasn't for it being such a horrible occasion, I would actually describe the color scheme as beautiful. Then again, fall has always been one of my favorite seasons. I am vaguely aware that we had some other function on the calendar today, but I honestly cannot think of what it was. With a large pack —the West Mountain Pack has over 10,000 members— we have a lot of functions. As the future alpha, I am expected to attend as many of them as I possibly can, but no one expects me to remember what they all are… even if I try to pretend in the moment. Unless reminded by an Omega or my amazing girlfriend, I can't even seem to remember my own mother and father's birthdays most of the time. My amazing girlfriend. I sigh, wiping a tear from my eye. She will never again be around to remind me about birthdays. Sadly, there will be no pretending that I know what today's ceremony is about. Stephanie Brogan was the love of my life, and she was my future mate and luna. I still cannot believe that she is gone. We never even got to fully experience the mate bond, including the sparks betwwen us. Had she lived just three months longer, our wolves would have confirmed one another as mates and Stephanie would have been able to formally claim her proper place in my bed and in my life. Instead of welcoming her body into my bed, I am saying good-bye to her today. I am also saying good-bye to all of our future plans and dreams together. I cannot help but feel anger and resentment about that. This is not how things were supposed to be. As I watch the funeral procession go by --my father, mother, and I, along with the beta family, must stand at the entrance as guests move from the temple to the burial grounds-- I catch a glimpse of Stephanie’s younger sister, Lily. She is standing next to her mother. She looks both sad and innocent, which causes the anger in my body to rise even more. That little brat is the reason that Stephanie is dead. *FLASHBACK TO LAST NIGHT* Stephanie and I are cuddled on the couch in the packhouse living room watching a movie. I have my hand on her arm and I am about to kiss her when she gets distracted by a text message. Stephanie did not let me see the message, which annoys me, but she quickly explains that Lily is lost in the forest after having snuck out to meet a boy. Stephanie’s sister is 13 or 14 years old. She has all the teenage acne and attitude that comes along with being that young. Unlike Stephanie —who has beautiful blond hair and hazel eyes— Lily has reddish brown hair and bright green eyes. Or at least I think they are bright green; she usually has them covered up with large black glasses. Stephanie gets up and tells me that Lily has texted her, begging her to come and find her. I am annoyed by the interruption, but I offer to go with Stephanie to get the little brat. Stephanie says Lily will be upset if anyone else knows about her little escapade. Stephanie reassures me that she will be fine, and then gives me a quick peck. My wolf and I have a bad feeling when Stephanie leaves, but Stephanie has us wrapped around her little finger. It is almost impossible for my wolf and I to disagree with her about anything. We pause the movie and decide to get some work done in my dad's office while we wait for Stephanie to get back. I am a night owl anyway, so I do not mind waiting. Unfortunately, about an hour after Stephanie leaves, I get an urgent mind-link from our pack warriors. They report that the Little Brat had been spotted running out of the woods screaming for help. Before they can say much more, I shift into my wolf form and take off running. I follow Stephanie’s scent far into the woods…. until I come to a small clearing, which is covered in Stephanie’s blood. Her bloody clothes are tossed around, and chunks of her hair are thrown about as well. It is the worst, most savage site that I have ever seen. The smell of rogues is all over, so it is fairly obvious what has happened. The a---holes didn’t even bother to leave her body. *END OF FLASHBACK* Tears threaten to continue to fall as I think back to the scene last night. I have not slept or eaten since I found what was left of Stephanie, and I am having trouble holding my emotions together. Now that my eyes have spotted Lily, my anger with her becomes a welcome distraction. I have a very hard time looking away from her. The truth is that I have always found myself strangely curious about her, but today… today all I want to do is take my anger out on someone, and she seems as good a target as anyone else. Her teenage behavior cost me my mate! And it cost this pack its future luna! My wolf, Luke, begs me to calm down. It is an interesting thing, having the wolf side try to calm the human side. As upset and angry and emotional as I am, it is tempting to ignore him and immediately start teach that Little Brat a lesson. However, I decide to follow Luke's advice after he reminds me that Stephanie deserves to have her funeral be all about her and not some whiny teenage brat. That does not mean that I am going to let Lily get away with what she has done, but I wait until a more appropriate time to take my revenge. I turn my focus back to Stephanie’s casket, which we filled with her bloody clothes, hair, and anything that could be found at the site that had her blood on it. The casket has been brought to the center of the amphitheater. The alpha and beta families take their seats in the front row, and my father and the pack priest move beside the casket to begin the ceremony. The ceremony involves a lot of prayers, rituals, and speakers. The average ceremony takes 2-3 hours, and Stephanie's will most likely take closer to 4-5 hours given her status in the pack and how beloved she was. During the ceremony, I keep trying to distract myself by looking around as others around me. I do not want to be seen as weak by curling into the fetal position and wailing like a baby, even though that is the only thing I want to do right now. My heart breaks as I glance at Stephanie’s parents next to me in the front row, holding on to one another as they cry. Seeing Stephanie’s father —a strong, powerful Beta wolf— break down is a sight I have very rarely seen. The pain in his eyes is heart-wrenching. I also notice Stephanie's brother, Nick, as he clings to his mate, Jenny. Both of them are crying as well. Nick is my best friend, and I have known him since we were tiny pups, but I have literally never seen him cry. I notice that there are no dry eyes anywhere. Even my father has a few stray tears running down his cheeks, although I am sure he would punch anyone who pointed it out. He is a proud man, just like me. As the sky continues to darken, I notice the Little Brat starting to act like she is uncomfortable in her seat. I can tell that Stephanie's mother is getting agitated, and rightly so. For once, can the Little Brat not think about something other than herself? Seriously. It is one ceremony. Just one. For an older sister who died trying to help her. How dare the Little Brat not hold herself together? The next thing I know, the moon is high in the sky and the final rites are being spoken by the priest. As exactly that moment, the Little Brat whispers something in her mother’s ear. Her mother turns and glares at her, causing the Little Brat to put her head down. I then watch as the Little Brat stands up and walks away. She looks like she is in pain, and I hope that she is. How dare she walk away from her sister’s funeral! Especially in the middle of the last rites! I am tempted to follow her and give her a piece of my mind, but Stephanie means more to me than that. I remind myself once again that I will get my revenge on Lily aka the Little Brat soon enough. For tonight, I must remain focused on the love of my life. Chapter 3: Lily Meets Rose “Y-yes.” “Good. Now open your eyes.” I opened my eyes and immediately noticed that I was not human anymore. My feet and hands were paws. I then looked into the water that pooled at the edge of the waterfall, and I saw my reflection… or rather the reflection of Rose. My heart stopped. There are many different types of wolves —alpha wolves; beta wolves; gamma wolves; warrior wolves; silver wolves; white wolves; red wolves; omega wolves. And even within those categories, there are varying sizes and colors and markings. We learn about the types of wolves in school. “Expect the unexpected” was a phrase that was often said about the first transition, but in reality your wolf generally follows your lineage: the children of alpha wolves will generally be alpha wolves; the children of beta wolves will generally be beta wolves; and so on. Typically, the big excitement —especially with children of ranked wolves— centers on the size, color, and personality of the new wolf. Looking back at me in the reflection of the pool was a type of wolf I had never seen or learned about in school. Rose’s fur was a beautiful bluish-silver color that almost glowed. On the right side of her rump was a large black crescent moon symbol, and the black coloring of that symbol matched her solid black paws and black tail. In addition, I noticed that Rose was huge. Although it was tough to tell, it appeared to me that Rose was at least as large as some alpha wolves. “What type of wolf are we, Rose?” “A special type. You will learn more as time goes on, but know that the Moon Goddess has blessed you and I, Lily.” I did not say anything; I was not sure what to say. Rose and I sat by the waterfall for a while longer, until I remembered Stephanie’s funeral. “We need to get back!” I told Rose in a panic. Rose guided me through how to transform back to our human form, and I frantically searched the nearby trees for clothes. I found a men’s t-shirt and shorts. Both were far too big for my small frame, so I opted to just put the t-shirt on. I also grabbed my eye-glasses off the ground and put them on; thankfully they did not break during the transition. Now that I had Rose, I would not need the glasses anymore because she would heal my eyes. However, Rose warned me that —for now— it was best that I continue to wear the glasses and let the pack believe that I did not yet have my wolf. I thought it was a curious thing for her to say, but I had no reason to not trust her. I hurried back to the packhouse and got into the beta suite, hoping to quickly change clothes and re-join the mourning crowd. Unfortunately, once I got in the suite, I was met with the angry, accusing eyes of my mother. “WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? HOW DARE YOU MAKE A SCENE AT YOUR SISTER’S FUNERAL! HAVE YOU NO SHAME? ARE YOU SO SELFISH AND SELF-CENTERED THAT YOU CAN THINK OF NO ONE BUT YOURSELF?” I said nothing. What could I say? My mother then did something that, in my 14 years, she had never done before. She slapped me. Hard. And the beating continued from there. Chapter 4: Living in the Shadows (6 years later) (Lily POV) Six years have now passed since that fateful day that Stephanie died. I wish that I could say that life has moved on, and that we have found good in the bad... but for the most part, it isn't true. Stephanie is just as much a part of this pack today as she was before she died. And the grief felt in the pack is just as raw and angry as it was that first day. If anything has changed, it is that --instead of Stephanie being out in the center of things-- she lives on almost like a shadow over everything. She now has a couple of streets named after her --Stephanie Lane and Steffie Avenue (her nickname was "Steffie"); and you can quite literally find some of her favorite outfits on display in glass cases at various places throughout the pack. Even more bizarre, the day she died was turned into a pack holiday, as was her birthday. Everyone but pack omegas have both days off from work, school, and training, and there are somber celebrations and remembrances planned to commemorate each occasion. I once made the mistake of asking my parents whether this was a normal reaction to the death of a single she-wolf. We can love and miss her, but to continue to hold large ceremonies every year? And to treat her as a saint and forget that she had a human side too? That seemed a bit too much to me. As far as I know, the pack has never done this for any other luna or future luna, and it only honors 2-3 historical alphas in such a manner. I was rewarded for my questions by being called jealous and hateful. (I also received a significant beating, but beatings had become commonplace from my mother, so I cannot say that my question necessarily triggered the beating I received that day. Plus, the beating hurt far less than what I received before Stephanie died. But for the slight pain and who did the beating, I almost would not have minded.) Overall, I think the worst part of losing Stephanie six years ago wasn't losing Stephanie... it was how losing Stephanie impacted my relationship with my parents and other pack members. Before Stephanie died, I was well aware that Stephanie was my parents' favorite. My older brother Nick and I would even joke about it from time to time. But even though Stephanie was their favorite, they still treated me really well and loved me. They never would have raised a hand to me before Stephanie died. After Stephanie died, however, my parents could barely look at me. And when they did, I saw the unmistakable wish in their eyes that it had been me, not Stephanie, that died that fateful night. In addition, my parents stopped caring about my well-being generally. I lived in their house until I was 17, but I was responsible for my own meals and necessities. I was forced to take on a part-time job at a nearby diner just to ensure I had clothes and food to eat. (I technically could have eaten the food that was available in the packhouse, but the dirty looks and mean comments made by my parents, James, and other pack members were enough to make that an unrealistic option.) Also, in case you are wondering, I have not celebrated a birthday since Stephanie died. Not one single soul other than Rose has bothered to tell me happy birthday. No one even bothered to ask me whether I had received my wolf. That wasn't because birthdays stopped being important; it was just mine whose meaning changed. I attended plenty of birthday parties, and the pack hosted plenty of 14th birthday celebrations. In fact, I think it was because of one of those birthday celebrations that someone finally questioned whether I had received a wolf. It was a legitimate question, given that I was over 14 and never joined a pack run. Rose encouraged me early on to skip them "for safety reasons," and I was all too happy to do so. Had anyone bothered to ask me directly about my wolf or about why I was skipping the pack runs, I would have been honest... but no one ever did. Instead, a rumor spread that I was wolfless. Pack members speculated that I lost my wolf as a result of post-traumatic stress from losing Stephanie and/or guilt for what I had done to Stephanie. That latter theory was the one that really got under my skin, because I knew that was a theory and rumor spread by James. Shortly after Stephanie's funeral, he told my parents and most of the pack that Stephanie was only in the forest that night to save me. He also said I had gone out to meet a boy. I have no idea why he would say such things; I have never had a boyfriend and Stephanie was the one who asked me to meet her in the forest. This rumor was the main reason that I received a beating from my mother the night of my first shift. And it probably adds to the reason that pack members wish me dead. Notably, though, I have never dared to defend myself. To tell the truth would be the equivalent of talking negatively of both Stephanie and our future alpha.... and would likely lead to a death sentence. So instead, I have always just pushed through. One of the ways that I have survived is to hold on to the faith that one day things will be different. Another thing that I have done is take every last opportunity to leave the pack. For example, I hurried through high school so that I could graduate early, and I then went away to college. To avoid coming home, I have been loading up on credit hours and taking every term of school -including the mini winter sessions-- that I can get. I am also taking advantage of a unique expedited program offered just for werewolves doctors. Given all of these things, I actually expect that I can become a fully licensed werewolf doctor in just a couple more years. Until I become fully licensed and independent, I will have to continue to bear the shadow of my sister and the pain that comes with it. I am required to be present for both of her holidays --all pack members are; there are no exceptions-- but thankfully those are among the very few times that I can reliably be found at the Western Mountain pack these days. My ultimate goal is to meet my mate and become a pack doctor in his pack... which I pray to the Moon Goddess is not the Western Mountain pack. If, Goddess forbid, my mate is in this pack, perhaps I can convince him to transfer packs with me. Goddess willing. Tomorrow is my birthday. I guess we will find out then. Chapter 5: Without His Luna (James POV) Tomorrow will mark six years since Stephanie died. Everything and nothing has changed. I still think of Stephanie every single day. Her beautiful smile. Her laugh. The kindness that she showed to pack members. The ethusiam that she showed for her luna training. Stephanie would have been an amazing and strong luna. Had Stephanie lived, we would have been happily married by now. We would probably have already had at least two adorable pups, who would have been doted on by two loving sets of grandparents. Together, Stephanie and I would have been leading the West Mountain Pack to new heights. Of course, Stephanie is no longer here. And without Stephanie… Well, without Stephanie, I am only a fraction of the man that I used to be, and only a fraction of the wolf. Without Stephanie, I am not even Alpha yet. In our world, most alpha heirs take over from their fathers between 25 and 30 years old. That timing ensures that most alphas will have already found their mates before they take over the running of a pack. Running a pack is not easy to do by yourself. Even with a strong beta and a strong gamma, a luna’s importance to a pack cannot be underestimated. A luna brings heart and balance to a pack and to the alpha himself. She is the alpha’s equal, and she is one of the few werewolves in the pack who can get away with challenging and questioning an alpha’s decisions. If she exercises her role properly and judiciously, a luna’s presence can lead to better overall outcomes, decisions, and governing. This is especially true if the luna is the alpha’s fated mate, because it means she takes on her role with the blessing of the Moon Goddess. Alpha heirs who take over their packs prior to turning 25 typically do so either out of necessity, or because they have been fortunate to have been mated very early to a strong luna. Six years ago, when Stephanie was still alive, my father thought we were going to be part of the lucky latter category. He had been very eager to take an early retirement. He and my mother had fantasized about all the European trips and Caribbean cruises that they would take after I was sworn in as alpha, and they had already had tentative plans for at least one of those trips. Of course, all of those plans were ultimately scrapped. Today, I am old enough to take over as alpha, even without a luna by my side… but my father is concerned that I am not mentally strong enough to do so yet. He sees me as broken. My father is probably right. It is a little hard not to feel broken. The reminders of Stephanie are everywhere. Even after six long years, I feel like I cannot escape from the reminders or from my grief, and it is suffocating. The packhouse has practically turned into a mini museum to her, and almost all of the local businesses have some sort of small dedication, whether it be a dedicated drink, food item, picture, or shelf of Stephanie-inspired items. Worse, twice a year, we hold a series of ceremonies and remembrances for Stephanie. As Stephanie’s mate and as the future alpha heir, I am expected to attend every one of them. I want to be there. I know that I should be there. But… It is complete and utter torture. Every day without Stephanie is difficult, but Stephanie’s birthdays and death anniversaries always hit me the hardest. What I want to do more than anything on those two days is be by myself so that I can process my grief. There is a waterfall that I like to go to. If I could, I would spend all day there on both days. The waterfall isn’t exactly hidden, but to find it, you have to go pretty far within the woods and know where to go. As far as I know, I am the only one in our pack who ever goes there. Being at the waterfall brings me comfort; it always has. That is where I want to be when I am grieving or upset. Unfortunately, instead of spending time in the comfort of my waterfall, I have to spend the two hardest days each year out in public with almost 20,000 eyes watching my every move and every reaction. Instead of just… grieving… I have to be conscientious of how every display of emotion can impact and be perceived by the pack members. As I listen to pack members, Stephanie’s parents, and my own parents take turns telling stories about Stephanie and her good deeds, I am expected to somehow strike an impossible balance between sadness and strength. At each of the events, year after year, the remembrances are largely the same. At this point, I practically have the speeches memorized. The speeches usually include stories about how Stephanie would bake cookies and send her sister to deliver them to the guards working the late-night shift on the borders. And stories about how any time anyone was injured in training or at battle, she would not only have her sister deliver care baskets to patients at the hospital, but she would also put one together for any family members separated from them while they were recovering. My parents talk about how eager Stephanie was to take on her position as luna, and how dedicated she was to her training, even working on lessons for hours at home multiple times per week. Stephanie’s parents talk about their prior dreams for their daughter and the hole they continue to feel in their hearts. Nick talks about how family celebrations do not feel the same without Stephanie there, and Jenny talks about wishing that she still had a sister-in-law to bond with and engage in girl talk. The only blessing is that —as the grieving mate— no one expects me to say anything at these events. But that does not spare me from the staring and judgment. If I show too much sadness, pack members worry that I am weak and will not able to be the leader of the pack in the future. If I seem too stoic or show too much “strength,” pack members could perceive me being disrespectful towards Stephanie’s memory. They will also worry that my reign as alpha will lack balance and compassion…. which I already hear whispers about from time to time. Sometimes, I feel angry about the whole thing. I would never, ever expect anyone who has lost their mate to put themselves on a stage multiple times a year and be judged on whether their external grief is appropriate enough. And yet my parents have no problem doing it to me. I tried to push back once, but only once. As you can imagine, it did not go well. I started the conversation by telling my parents that I did not think it was healthy for me to be surrounded by constant reminders of Stephanie, and I told them that I thought the constant remembrances were counterproductive to my mental health. I suggested that we scale back the events, or make them more private affairs. My father got angry and accused me of being selfish. He told me that being uncomfortable and coping with the pressure of judgmental pack members is part of being an alpha. Meanwhile, my mother reminded me that the ceremonies had been Stephanie’s parents’ idea, and she asked me if I wanted to be the one to tell them it was no longer important to celebrate Stephanie’s life. No, of course I did not want to tell Stephanie's parents that. No, I did not want to be selfish. I just wanted --and still want-- to not feel so sad all the time. Six years in, and the only reprieve I ever get from my grief is when the Little Brat is around. She has made herself scarce the last few years, but when she is around, my wolf and I can sense her from a mile away. My wolf and I fight about her all the time --for some reason, Luke seems to have a soft spot for the Little Brat-- but we can agree that it is nice having her around. For me, it's because I have a worthy target for my anger and rage. Chapter 8: Daddy's Girl (Lily POV) The drive to the pack house was eerily silent. After my father and I arrived at the pack house, my father quickly exited the vehicle and headed to his office, leaving me on my own. I timidly and cautiously got into the beta suite, but I was relieved to find that my mother was already in bed. I decided to go directly to my room and try to sleep as well. Unfortunately, I ended up tossing and turning all night. The look on my father's face when talking to the guards continued to haunt me. When I did sleep, I had nightmares. Strangely, Rose seemed restless too, but other than briefly wishing me a happy birthday after it hit midnight, she did not say anything. I think the main thing that provoked my nightmares and kept me up was that my heart ached for my father. I knew that I wanted to help him with his pain and ease his suffering, but I was not sure what I could do or say to make things better. It has already been six years. If time has not helped heal his heart, what could I do? The truth is, I am not Stephanie and I never will be. The only thing I have ever known how to do for my father is to try to stay out of his way. At least for my mother, I can serve as a literal punching bag to help her relieve her grief. And for others in the pack, I can serve as both a literal and metaphorical punching bag. But, I am nothing to my father: my father has neglected me and ignored the sufferings I went through, but he has never directly participated in any of them. Perhaps that is one reason his pain upsets me more than the pain of everyone else. He is the least awful amongst my current tormentors, and I can sometimes lie to myself that he does not know or agree with how much I have suffered. I know that it probably seems strange that my heart aches for him at all, given that he is someone who, for the most part, could care less about me. However, please understand that for my own sanity, I have chosen to remember and hold on to the good times in my childhood. Of course, there is also the fact that... regardless of how my father currently feels about me... I have always been --and will probably always be-- a daddy's girl. It is just part of who I am. Since I was in diapers, I have looked up to my father and considered him to be my superhero. Before Stephanie died, I never saw an ounce of weakness in him. He was my strength and my rock. I always had an strong desire to make him proud of me. He was always the first one I ran to when I got a good grade on a test, or when I drew a picture I thought he might like. And ...before Stephanie died... he was always the first one to dry my tears when I got hurt or to give me reassuring praise when I felt down. Even though I knew Stephanie was his favorite... even though I knew Stephanie's accomplishments would always be greater, and that he would always be more proud of her... those little things mattered to me. I lived for those moments. Sigh. By 5:30 am, I gave up on any hope of further sleep. Stephanie's first remembrance event was not scheduled until 11 am, so I knew I had a little bit of time. Eager to take advantage of that time and also avoid my mother, I took a quick shower, packed a small backpack, and headed out of the house. Predictably, my feet led me to the waterfall that I had shifted in front of six years ago. I have come here at least twice a year since Stephanie died, usually on her birthday and death anniversary. The waterfall brings me an odd sense of peace. As beautiful as it is, I do not know anyone else who comes here. Perhaps that is why I like it so much. I sighed. "It is easy to tell myself that when I am away from the pack and not having to cope with the consequences. It is a lot harder to believe that I am blameless when everyone around me is crying and upset all the time. You saw my dad last night. That nearly broke me. He is still hurting so much." "That does not make any of it your fault," Rose protests. "Rose, the day before Stephanie died, I prayed that the Moon Goddess stop Stephanie from continuing to hurt me." "She was not hurting you, Lily. She was torturing you. There is nothing wrong with you praying that it stop." "There is if it cost Stephanie her life." "Lily, you are not giving the Moon Goddess enough credit. You are smarter and stronger than this. You need to stop with the emotional vomit and ---" Suddenly Rose stops talking through the link. She is pacing back in forth in my head. I have no idea what is going on, until the overwhelming scent of vanilla and coffee beans hits my nose. "Mate! Lily, our mate is here! Mate, mate, mate, mate, mate!!!" I stand, dust the ashes off of my jeans, and turn around. My heart drops when I recognize the werewolf standing about 200 feet away from me. This has to be a joke. This cannot be happening.	LEARN_MORE	https://getokn.com/market/goodnovel/1?lpid=10745&u	Massive story	https://www.facebook.com/61560932294131/	0	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	getokn.com	DCO		https://getokn.com/market/goodnovel/1?lpid=10745&utm_campaign={{campaign.name}}&utm_content={{campaign.id}}&adset_name={{adset.name}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}&ad_name={{ad.name}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-2.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/448731292_973317731140374_4061053005564536888_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=109&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=zjaKLc1X9U4Q7kNvgFLuh_i&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-2.xx&_nc_gid=AhCVDEG5MC7R6Y5aydd3bAB&oh=00_AYBxqrynTl0OMLkjHjihAoJqezeKHZsztfXr9jIjsWypoQ&oe=670BA2CB	PERSON_PROFILE	Massive story	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
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2,121,963	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2121960}'	Yes	2024-10-08 20:52	active	1596	🔞🔥 Continuer la lecture ➤➤	(Lily POV) Today is my 14th birthday. There will not be birthday cake, singing, or a party. Instead, we are attending a funeral. My sister's funeral, to be exact. Before my sister... died... we had a large party planned for me. I normally do not have a big party, but 14th birthdays are a really big event to werewolves. They are the day that we first meet our wolves. The next monumental birthday is our 20th birthday; that is when can first identify our fated mates. I am our Beta’s youngest daughter, and my father is loved and well-respected. Everyone was excited to meet my wolf and to see what type of wolf she would be. Thus, the guest list for my party was pretty large, and it included ranked wolves from nearby packs. I am normally a little bit of a loner, hence why I usually do not have a big birthday party. However, for this particular occasion, I was happy to have a lot of guests. Meeting your wolf comes with the first shift/ transition, and that can be incredibly painful. As inherently social creatures, the only thing known to help wolves with the pain of the first shift is to have supportive family, friends, and community around you. The way that it typically works is that the pack will host a dinner or barbeque in your honor. As night falls, and the moon replaces the sun in the sky, everyone will gather inside the pack amphitheater. The shifter-to-be will stand in the middle of the amphitheater while guests quietly chant well wishes and prayers to the Moon Goddess. The energy in the space can be electrifying for everyone present, no matter whether there are 25 attendees or 500. Once the first shift is completed, the new wolf will prance around the stage and strut their stuff. The crowd will “ooh” and “aah” until the pack alpha approaches, learns the new wolf’s name, and introduces the wolf to the crowd. The new wolf will also swear his or her allegiance to the pack and to the alpha, allowing the wolf to mind-link with other pack wolves. Finally, the new wolf and any guests old enough to shift will go for a pack run. The whole process is incredibly special and exciting. As you might imagine, décor is also an important part of the party planning process. Each shifter gets to decide the decorations and party theme that will be used for their party. If more than one wolf turns 14 on the same day, the wolves can either agree on a theme or split the party into parts that they can individually decorate. The pack luna will then work some sort of magic that somehow blends the individual areas into one cohesive theme in the center. My birthday is in October, and despite how large our pack is, I am the only one born on that day. I love having an October birthday because my favorite season is fall. For my décor, I had picked flowers and decorations in rich fall colors, including deep oranges, reds, and greens. Unfortunately, none of my party decorations will be used. Or rather, none of my decorations will be used for me. As I mentioned, we are holding a funeral today instead. My oldest sister, Stephanie, died this morning. Pack and religious tradition dictates that we must hold funerals within 24 hours of death. Because Stephanie died shortly after midnight, her funeral must be held today. All food and décor set aside for my birthday party was therefore immediately diverted for the funeral; thankfully my fall themed colors were sufficiently somber-ish to work. All decorations that seemed relatively “happy”, celebratory, or that mention me have been removed. Pictures of Stephanie have now been placed on tables and podiums, and the music I selected has been swapped out for songs about loss or Stephanie’s favorites. The loss of Stephanie is a really hurting. Not only was she my sister and my parents’ oldest and favorite child, she was also widely anticipated to be the mate of Alpha Randall’s son, James, which meant she was most likely the future luna of our pack. Stephanie would have turned 20 in three months, and she and James would have been able to confirm that they were mates then. The pack was so sure that they were mates —and Alpha Randall was so eager to turn the pack over to James and his mate, once she was identified and ready to take on the luna position— that they deviated from standard protocols and decided to begin Stephanie’s Luna training just after she turned 18. If I am being completely honest, something never sat right with me about Stephanie starting Luna training. Part of it is what Stephanie's Luna training meant for me, but that is a separate conversation. The biggest thing was that I did not understand why luna training could not wait until Stephanie turned 20 and could confirm who her mate was. Lunas for generations have waited for their training; why couldn't Stephanie? It also bothered me quite a bit to watch Stephanie hang all over James at pack functions. Our pack frowned upon dating and public displays of affection prior to finding your mate; it created too much risk for problems, anger, and jealousy once your mate was located. For whatever reason, an exception was made for Stephanie. But then again, exceptions always were made for her. Stephanie was strong and absolutely beautiful, and the pack knew her as being kind, smart, and energetic. She could do no wrong in the eyes of my parents, the alpha, or the pack. I hope I do not sound too jealous or bitter. I loved my sister, and her death is hitting me really hard. It’s just that…. I knew a different side of my sister than everyone else, and I know more than anyone that my sister was far from perfect. Had I spoken up before she died, I would have been accused of jealousy and lying. And were I to speak up now, well… I would be accused of jealousy, lying, AND improperly speaking ill of the dead. It is easier to just let it go. Along with my birthday. It isn't that important anyway. I do not want to be selfish or self-centered. The only immediate problem with letting go is that --bad timing or not-- I am going to shift for the first time tonight. There is nothing I can do to stop or postpone it, as much as I would like to do so. I am worried about how it is going to go. Hopefully, during the reception, my mother or father or brother or someone will be willing to step aside with me for a 20-30 minutes just to get me through it. We could then return and act like everything is normal. Or as normal as it can be with Stephanie now gone. Sadly, I should have known that nothing in life is that easy. Chapter 2: The Little Brat (James POV) I watch sadly as the casket is carried from the temple to the burial grounds. It is a cold October day, and the gray sky and drizzly weather adds to the overall somber atmosphere. I cannot help but be impressed at how quickly the pack was able to pull everything together for Stephanie's funeral. All funerals happen quickly in our world, but because of how fast the funerals must take place, the décor and guest list is usually somewhat lacking. It is a testament to how much Stephanie was loved that they were able to put together so many beautiful floral arrangements in her honor, and that so many people were able to be here to honor her life, including many wolves from other packs. If it wasn't for it being such a horrible occasion, I would actually describe the color scheme as beautiful. Then again, fall has always been one of my favorite seasons. I am vaguely aware that we had some other function on the calendar today, but I honestly cannot think of what it was. With a large pack —the West Mountain Pack has over 10,000 members— we have a lot of functions. As the future alpha, I am expected to attend as many of them as I possibly can, but no one expects me to remember what they all are… even if I try to pretend in the moment. Unless reminded by an Omega or my amazing girlfriend, I can't even seem to remember my own mother and father's birthdays most of the time. My amazing girlfriend. I sigh, wiping a tear from my eye. She will never again be around to remind me about birthdays. Sadly, there will be no pretending that I know what today's ceremony is about. Stephanie Brogan was the love of my life, and she was my future mate and luna. I still cannot believe that she is gone. We never even got to fully experience the mate bond, including the sparks betwwen us. Had she lived just three months longer, our wolves would have confirmed one another as mates and Stephanie would have been able to formally claim her proper place in my bed and in my life. Instead of welcoming her body into my bed, I am saying good-bye to her today. I am also saying good-bye to all of our future plans and dreams together. I cannot help but feel anger and resentment about that. This is not how things were supposed to be. As I watch the funeral procession go by --my father, mother, and I, along with the beta family, must stand at the entrance as guests move from the temple to the burial grounds-- I catch a glimpse of Stephanie’s younger sister, Lily. She is standing next to her mother. She looks both sad and innocent, which causes the anger in my body to rise even more. That little brat is the reason that Stephanie is dead. *FLASHBACK TO LAST NIGHT* Stephanie and I are cuddled on the couch in the packhouse living room watching a movie. I have my hand on her arm and I am about to kiss her when she gets distracted by a text message. Stephanie did not let me see the message, which annoys me, but she quickly explains that Lily is lost in the forest after having snuck out to meet a boy. Stephanie’s sister is 13 or 14 years old. She has all the teenage acne and attitude that comes along with being that young. Unlike Stephanie —who has beautiful blond hair and hazel eyes— Lily has reddish brown hair and bright green eyes. Or at least I think they are bright green; she usually has them covered up with large black glasses. Stephanie gets up and tells me that Lily has texted her, begging her to come and find her. I am annoyed by the interruption, but I offer to go with Stephanie to get the little brat. Stephanie says Lily will be upset if anyone else knows about her little escapade. Stephanie reassures me that she will be fine, and then gives me a quick peck. My wolf and I have a bad feeling when Stephanie leaves, but Stephanie has us wrapped around her little finger. It is almost impossible for my wolf and I to disagree with her about anything. We pause the movie and decide to get some work done in my dad's office while we wait for Stephanie to get back. I am a night owl anyway, so I do not mind waiting. Unfortunately, about an hour after Stephanie leaves, I get an urgent mind-link from our pack warriors. They report that the Little Brat had been spotted running out of the woods screaming for help. Before they can say much more, I shift into my wolf form and take off running. I follow Stephanie’s scent far into the woods…. until I come to a small clearing, which is covered in Stephanie’s blood. Her bloody clothes are tossed around, and chunks of her hair are thrown about as well. It is the worst, most savage site that I have ever seen. The smell of rogues is all over, so it is fairly obvious what has happened. The a---holes didn’t even bother to leave her body. *END OF FLASHBACK* Tears threaten to continue to fall as I think back to the scene last night. I have not slept or eaten since I found what was left of Stephanie, and I am having trouble holding my emotions together. Now that my eyes have spotted Lily, my anger with her becomes a welcome distraction. I have a very hard time looking away from her. The truth is that I have always found myself strangely curious about her, but today… today all I want to do is take my anger out on someone, and she seems as good a target as anyone else. Her teenage behavior cost me my mate! And it cost this pack its future luna! My wolf, Luke, begs me to calm down. It is an interesting thing, having the wolf side try to calm the human side. As upset and angry and emotional as I am, it is tempting to ignore him and immediately start teach that Little Brat a lesson. However, I decide to follow Luke's advice after he reminds me that Stephanie deserves to have her funeral be all about her and not some whiny teenage brat. That does not mean that I am going to let Lily get away with what she has done, but I wait until a more appropriate time to take my revenge. I turn my focus back to Stephanie’s casket, which we filled with her bloody clothes, hair, and anything that could be found at the site that had her blood on it. The casket has been brought to the center of the amphitheater. The alpha and beta families take their seats in the front row, and my father and the pack priest move beside the casket to begin the ceremony. The ceremony involves a lot of prayers, rituals, and speakers. The average ceremony takes 2-3 hours, and Stephanie's will most likely take closer to 4-5 hours given her status in the pack and how beloved she was. During the ceremony, I keep trying to distract myself by looking around as others around me. I do not want to be seen as weak by curling into the fetal position and wailing like a baby, even though that is the only thing I want to do right now. My heart breaks as I glance at Stephanie’s parents next to me in the front row, holding on to one another as they cry. Seeing Stephanie’s father —a strong, powerful Beta wolf— break down is a sight I have very rarely seen. The pain in his eyes is heart-wrenching. I also notice Stephanie's brother, Nick, as he clings to his mate, Jenny. Both of them are crying as well. Nick is my best friend, and I have known him since we were tiny pups, but I have literally never seen him cry. I notice that there are no dry eyes anywhere. Even my father has a few stray tears running down his cheeks, although I am sure he would punch anyone who pointed it out. He is a proud man, just like me. As the sky continues to darken, I notice the Little Brat starting to act like she is uncomfortable in her seat. I can tell that Stephanie's mother is getting agitated, and rightly so. For once, can the Little Brat not think about something other than herself? Seriously. It is one ceremony. Just one. For an older sister who died trying to help her. How dare the Little Brat not hold herself together? The next thing I know, the moon is high in the sky and the final rites are being spoken by the priest. As exactly that moment, the Little Brat whispers something in her mother’s ear. Her mother turns and glares at her, causing the Little Brat to put her head down. I then watch as the Little Brat stands up and walks away. She looks like she is in pain, and I hope that she is. How dare she walk away from her sister’s funeral! Especially in the middle of the last rites! I am tempted to follow her and give her a piece of my mind, but Stephanie means more to me than that. I remind myself once again that I will get my revenge on Lily aka the Little Brat soon enough. For tonight, I must remain focused on the love of my life. Chapter 3: Lily Meets Rose “Y-yes.” “Good. Now open your eyes.” I opened my eyes and immediately noticed that I was not human anymore. My feet and hands were paws. I then looked into the water that pooled at the edge of the waterfall, and I saw my reflection… or rather the reflection of Rose. My heart stopped. There are many different types of wolves —alpha wolves; beta wolves; gamma wolves; warrior wolves; silver wolves; white wolves; red wolves; omega wolves. And even within those categories, there are varying sizes and colors and markings. We learn about the types of wolves in school. “Expect the unexpected” was a phrase that was often said about the first transition, but in reality your wolf generally follows your lineage: the children of alpha wolves will generally be alpha wolves; the children of beta wolves will generally be beta wolves; and so on. Typically, the big excitement —especially with children of ranked wolves— centers on the size, color, and personality of the new wolf. Looking back at me in the reflection of the pool was a type of wolf I had never seen or learned about in school. Rose’s fur was a beautiful bluish-silver color that almost glowed. On the right side of her rump was a large black crescent moon symbol, and the black coloring of that symbol matched her solid black paws and black tail. In addition, I noticed that Rose was huge. Although it was tough to tell, it appeared to me that Rose was at least as large as some alpha wolves. “What type of wolf are we, Rose?” “A special type. You will learn more as time goes on, but know that the Moon Goddess has blessed you and I, Lily.” I did not say anything; I was not sure what to say. Rose and I sat by the waterfall for a while longer, until I remembered Stephanie’s funeral. “We need to get back!” I told Rose in a panic. Rose guided me through how to transform back to our human form, and I frantically searched the nearby trees for clothes. I found a men’s t-shirt and shorts. Both were far too big for my small frame, so I opted to just put the t-shirt on. I also grabbed my eye-glasses off the ground and put them on; thankfully they did not break during the transition. Now that I had Rose, I would not need the glasses anymore because she would heal my eyes. However, Rose warned me that —for now— it was best that I continue to wear the glasses and let the pack believe that I did not yet have my wolf. I thought it was a curious thing for her to say, but I had no reason to not trust her. I hurried back to the packhouse and got into the beta suite, hoping to quickly change clothes and re-join the mourning crowd. Unfortunately, once I got in the suite, I was met with the angry, accusing eyes of my mother. “WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? HOW DARE YOU MAKE A SCENE AT YOUR SISTER’S FUNERAL! HAVE YOU NO SHAME? ARE YOU SO SELFISH AND SELF-CENTERED THAT YOU CAN THINK OF NO ONE BUT YOURSELF?” I said nothing. What could I say? My mother then did something that, in my 14 years, she had never done before. She slapped me. Hard. And the beating continued from there. Chapter 4: Living in the Shadows (6 years later) (Lily POV) Six years have now passed since that fateful day that Stephanie died. I wish that I could say that life has moved on, and that we have found good in the bad... but for the most part, it isn't true. Stephanie is just as much a part of this pack today as she was before she died. And the grief felt in the pack is just as raw and angry as it was that first day. If anything has changed, it is that --instead of Stephanie being out in the center of things-- she lives on almost like a shadow over everything. She now has a couple of streets named after her --Stephanie Lane and Steffie Avenue (her nickname was "Steffie"); and you can quite literally find some of her favorite outfits on display in glass cases at various places throughout the pack. Even more bizarre, the day she died was turned into a pack holiday, as was her birthday. Everyone but pack omegas have both days off from work, school, and training, and there are somber celebrations and remembrances planned to commemorate each occasion. I once made the mistake of asking my parents whether this was a normal reaction to the death of a single she-wolf. We can love and miss her, but to continue to hold large ceremonies every year? And to treat her as a saint and forget that she had a human side too? That seemed a bit too much to me. As far as I know, the pack has never done this for any other luna or future luna, and it only honors 2-3 historical alphas in such a manner. I was rewarded for my questions by being called jealous and hateful. (I also received a significant beating, but beatings had become commonplace from my mother, so I cannot say that my question necessarily triggered the beating I received that day. Plus, the beating hurt far less than what I received before Stephanie died. But for the slight pain and who did the beating, I almost would not have minded.) Overall, I think the worst part of losing Stephanie six years ago wasn't losing Stephanie... it was how losing Stephanie impacted my relationship with my parents and other pack members. Before Stephanie died, I was well aware that Stephanie was my parents' favorite. My older brother Nick and I would even joke about it from time to time. But even though Stephanie was their favorite, they still treated me really well and loved me. They never would have raised a hand to me before Stephanie died. After Stephanie died, however, my parents could barely look at me. And when they did, I saw the unmistakable wish in their eyes that it had been me, not Stephanie, that died that fateful night. In addition, my parents stopped caring about my well-being generally. I lived in their house until I was 17, but I was responsible for my own meals and necessities. I was forced to take on a part-time job at a nearby diner just to ensure I had clothes and food to eat. (I technically could have eaten the food that was available in the packhouse, but the dirty looks and mean comments made by my parents, James, and other pack members were enough to make that an unrealistic option.) Also, in case you are wondering, I have not celebrated a birthday since Stephanie died. Not one single soul other than Rose has bothered to tell me happy birthday. No one even bothered to ask me whether I had received my wolf. That wasn't because birthdays stopped being important; it was just mine whose meaning changed. I attended plenty of birthday parties, and the pack hosted plenty of 14th birthday celebrations. In fact, I think it was because of one of those birthday celebrations that someone finally questioned whether I had received a wolf. It was a legitimate question, given that I was over 14 and never joined a pack run. Rose encouraged me early on to skip them "for safety reasons," and I was all too happy to do so. Had anyone bothered to ask me directly about my wolf or about why I was skipping the pack runs, I would have been honest... but no one ever did. Instead, a rumor spread that I was wolfless. Pack members speculated that I lost my wolf as a result of post-traumatic stress from losing Stephanie and/or guilt for what I had done to Stephanie. That latter theory was the one that really got under my skin, because I knew that was a theory and rumor spread by James. Shortly after Stephanie's funeral, he told my parents and most of the pack that Stephanie was only in the forest that night to save me. He also said I had gone out to meet a boy. I have no idea why he would say such things; I have never had a boyfriend and Stephanie was the one who asked me to meet her in the forest. This rumor was the main reason that I received a beating from my mother the night of my first shift. And it probably adds to the reason that pack members wish me dead. Notably, though, I have never dared to defend myself. To tell the truth would be the equivalent of talking negatively of both Stephanie and our future alpha.... and would likely lead to a death sentence. So instead, I have always just pushed through. One of the ways that I have survived is to hold on to the faith that one day things will be different. Another thing that I have done is take every last opportunity to leave the pack. For example, I hurried through high school so that I could graduate early, and I then went away to college. To avoid coming home, I have been loading up on credit hours and taking every term of school -including the mini winter sessions-- that I can get. I am also taking advantage of a unique expedited program offered just for werewolves doctors. Given all of these things, I actually expect that I can become a fully licensed werewolf doctor in just a couple more years. Until I become fully licensed and independent, I will have to continue to bear the shadow of my sister and the pain that comes with it. I am required to be present for both of her holidays --all pack members are; there are no exceptions-- but thankfully those are among the very few times that I can reliably be found at the Western Mountain pack these days. My ultimate goal is to meet my mate and become a pack doctor in his pack... which I pray to the Moon Goddess is not the Western Mountain pack. If, Goddess forbid, my mate is in this pack, perhaps I can convince him to transfer packs with me. Goddess willing. Tomorrow is my birthday. I guess we will find out then. Chapter 5: Without His Luna (James POV) Tomorrow will mark six years since Stephanie died. Everything and nothing has changed. I still think of Stephanie every single day. Her beautiful smile. Her laugh. The kindness that she showed to pack members. The ethusiam that she showed for her luna training. Stephanie would have been an amazing and strong luna. Had Stephanie lived, we would have been happily married by now. We would probably have already had at least two adorable pups, who would have been doted on by two loving sets of grandparents. Together, Stephanie and I would have been leading the West Mountain Pack to new heights. Of course, Stephanie is no longer here. And without Stephanie… Well, without Stephanie, I am only a fraction of the man that I used to be, and only a fraction of the wolf. Without Stephanie, I am not even Alpha yet. In our world, most alpha heirs take over from their fathers between 25 and 30 years old. That timing ensures that most alphas will have already found their mates before they take over the running of a pack. Running a pack is not easy to do by yourself. Even with a strong beta and a strong gamma, a luna’s importance to a pack cannot be underestimated. A luna brings heart and balance to a pack and to the alpha himself. She is the alpha’s equal, and she is one of the few werewolves in the pack who can get away with challenging and questioning an alpha’s decisions. If she exercises her role properly and judiciously, a luna’s presence can lead to better overall outcomes, decisions, and governing. This is especially true if the luna is the alpha’s fated mate, because it means she takes on her role with the blessing of the Moon Goddess. Alpha heirs who take over their packs prior to turning 25 typically do so either out of necessity, or because they have been fortunate to have been mated very early to a strong luna. Six years ago, when Stephanie was still alive, my father thought we were going to be part of the lucky latter category. He had been very eager to take an early retirement. He and my mother had fantasized about all the European trips and Caribbean cruises that they would take after I was sworn in as alpha, and they had already had tentative plans for at least one of those trips. Of course, all of those plans were ultimately scrapped. Today, I am old enough to take over as alpha, even without a luna by my side… but my father is concerned that I am not mentally strong enough to do so yet. He sees me as broken. My father is probably right. It is a little hard not to feel broken. The reminders of Stephanie are everywhere. Even after six long years, I feel like I cannot escape from the reminders or from my grief, and it is suffocating. The packhouse has practically turned into a mini museum to her, and almost all of the local businesses have some sort of small dedication, whether it be a dedicated drink, food item, picture, or shelf of Stephanie-inspired items. Worse, twice a year, we hold a series of ceremonies and remembrances for Stephanie. As Stephanie’s mate and as the future alpha heir, I am expected to attend every one of them. I want to be there. I know that I should be there. But… It is complete and utter torture. Every day without Stephanie is difficult, but Stephanie’s birthdays and death anniversaries always hit me the hardest. What I want to do more than anything on those two days is be by myself so that I can process my grief. There is a waterfall that I like to go to. If I could, I would spend all day there on both days. The waterfall isn’t exactly hidden, but to find it, you have to go pretty far within the woods and know where to go. As far as I know, I am the only one in our pack who ever goes there. Being at the waterfall brings me comfort; it always has. That is where I want to be when I am grieving or upset. Unfortunately, instead of spending time in the comfort of my waterfall, I have to spend the two hardest days each year out in public with almost 20,000 eyes watching my every move and every reaction. Instead of just… grieving… I have to be conscientious of how every display of emotion can impact and be perceived by the pack members. As I listen to pack members, Stephanie’s parents, and my own parents take turns telling stories about Stephanie and her good deeds, I am expected to somehow strike an impossible balance between sadness and strength. At each of the events, year after year, the remembrances are largely the same. At this point, I practically have the speeches memorized. The speeches usually include stories about how Stephanie would bake cookies and send her sister to deliver them to the guards working the late-night shift on the borders. And stories about how any time anyone was injured in training or at battle, she would not only have her sister deliver care baskets to patients at the hospital, but she would also put one together for any family members separated from them while they were recovering. My parents talk about how eager Stephanie was to take on her position as luna, and how dedicated she was to her training, even working on lessons for hours at home multiple times per week. Stephanie’s parents talk about their prior dreams for their daughter and the hole they continue to feel in their hearts. Nick talks about how family celebrations do not feel the same without Stephanie there, and Jenny talks about wishing that she still had a sister-in-law to bond with and engage in girl talk. The only blessing is that —as the grieving mate— no one expects me to say anything at these events. But that does not spare me from the staring and judgment. If I show too much sadness, pack members worry that I am weak and will not able to be the leader of the pack in the future. If I seem too stoic or show too much “strength,” pack members could perceive me being disrespectful towards Stephanie’s memory. They will also worry that my reign as alpha will lack balance and compassion…. which I already hear whispers about from time to time. Sometimes, I feel angry about the whole thing. I would never, ever expect anyone who has lost their mate to put themselves on a stage multiple times a year and be judged on whether their external grief is appropriate enough. And yet my parents have no problem doing it to me. I tried to push back once, but only once. As you can imagine, it did not go well. I started the conversation by telling my parents that I did not think it was healthy for me to be surrounded by constant reminders of Stephanie, and I told them that I thought the constant remembrances were counterproductive to my mental health. I suggested that we scale back the events, or make them more private affairs. My father got angry and accused me of being selfish. He told me that being uncomfortable and coping with the pressure of judgmental pack members is part of being an alpha. Meanwhile, my mother reminded me that the ceremonies had been Stephanie’s parents’ idea, and she asked me if I wanted to be the one to tell them it was no longer important to celebrate Stephanie’s life. No, of course I did not want to tell Stephanie's parents that. No, I did not want to be selfish. I just wanted --and still want-- to not feel so sad all the time. Six years in, and the only reprieve I ever get from my grief is when the Little Brat is around. She has made herself scarce the last few years, but when she is around, my wolf and I can sense her from a mile away. My wolf and I fight about her all the time --for some reason, Luke seems to have a soft spot for the Little Brat-- but we can agree that it is nice having her around. For me, it's because I have a worthy target for my anger and rage. Chapter 8: Daddy's Girl (Lily POV) The drive to the pack house was eerily silent. After my father and I arrived at the pack house, my father quickly exited the vehicle and headed to his office, leaving me on my own. I timidly and cautiously got into the beta suite, but I was relieved to find that my mother was already in bed. I decided to go directly to my room and try to sleep as well. Unfortunately, I ended up tossing and turning all night. The look on my father's face when talking to the guards continued to haunt me. When I did sleep, I had nightmares. Strangely, Rose seemed restless too, but other than briefly wishing me a happy birthday after it hit midnight, she did not say anything. I think the main thing that provoked my nightmares and kept me up was that my heart ached for my father. I knew that I wanted to help him with his pain and ease his suffering, but I was not sure what I could do or say to make things better. It has already been six years. If time has not helped heal his heart, what could I do? The truth is, I am not Stephanie and I never will be. The only thing I have ever known how to do for my father is to try to stay out of his way. At least for my mother, I can serve as a literal punching bag to help her relieve her grief. And for others in the pack, I can serve as both a literal and metaphorical punching bag. But, I am nothing to my father: my father has neglected me and ignored the sufferings I went through, but he has never directly participated in any of them. Perhaps that is one reason his pain upsets me more than the pain of everyone else. He is the least awful amongst my current tormentors, and I can sometimes lie to myself that he does not know or agree with how much I have suffered. I know that it probably seems strange that my heart aches for him at all, given that he is someone who, for the most part, could care less about me. However, please understand that for my own sanity, I have chosen to remember and hold on to the good times in my childhood. Of course, there is also the fact that... regardless of how my father currently feels about me... I have always been --and will probably always be-- a daddy's girl. It is just part of who I am. Since I was in diapers, I have looked up to my father and considered him to be my superhero. Before Stephanie died, I never saw an ounce of weakness in him. He was my strength and my rock. I always had an strong desire to make him proud of me. He was always the first one I ran to when I got a good grade on a test, or when I drew a picture I thought he might like. And ...before Stephanie died... he was always the first one to dry my tears when I got hurt or to give me reassuring praise when I felt down. Even though I knew Stephanie was his favorite... even though I knew Stephanie's accomplishments would always be greater, and that he would always be more proud of her... those little things mattered to me. I lived for those moments. Sigh. By 5:30 am, I gave up on any hope of further sleep. Stephanie's first remembrance event was not scheduled until 11 am, so I knew I had a little bit of time. Eager to take advantage of that time and also avoid my mother, I took a quick shower, packed a small backpack, and headed out of the house. Predictably, my feet led me to the waterfall that I had shifted in front of six years ago. I have come here at least twice a year since Stephanie died, usually on her birthday and death anniversary. The waterfall brings me an odd sense of peace. As beautiful as it is, I do not know anyone else who comes here. Perhaps that is why I like it so much. I sighed. "It is easy to tell myself that when I am away from the pack and not having to cope with the consequences. It is a lot harder to believe that I am blameless when everyone around me is crying and upset all the time. You saw my dad last night. That nearly broke me. He is still hurting so much." "That does not make any of it your fault," Rose protests. "Rose, the day before Stephanie died, I prayed that the Moon Goddess stop Stephanie from continuing to hurt me." "She was not hurting you, Lily. She was torturing you. There is nothing wrong with you praying that it stop." "There is if it cost Stephanie her life." "Lily, you are not giving the Moon Goddess enough credit. You are smarter and stronger than this. You need to stop with the emotional vomit and ---" Suddenly Rose stops talking through the link. She is pacing back in forth in my head. I have no idea what is going on, until the overwhelming scent of vanilla and coffee beans hits my nose. "Mate! Lily, our mate is here! Mate, mate, mate, mate, mate!!!" I stand, dust the ashes off of my jeans, and turn around. My heart drops when I recognize the werewolf standing about 200 feet away from me. This has to be a joke. This cannot be happening.	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2,121,964	/src/Template/Ads/index.ctp (line 281) '{"alias":2121960}'	No	2024-10-08 20:52	active	1596	🔞🔥 Continuer la lecture ➤➤	(Lily POV) Today is my 14th birthday. There will not be birthday cake, singing, or a party. Instead, we are attending a funeral. My sister's funeral, to be exact. Before my sister... died... we had a large party planned for me. I normally do not have a big party, but 14th birthdays are a really big event to werewolves. They are the day that we first meet our wolves. The next monumental birthday is our 20th birthday; that is when can first identify our fated mates. I am our Beta’s youngest daughter, and my father is loved and well-respected. Everyone was excited to meet my wolf and to see what type of wolf she would be. Thus, the guest list for my party was pretty large, and it included ranked wolves from nearby packs. I am normally a little bit of a loner, hence why I usually do not have a big birthday party. However, for this particular occasion, I was happy to have a lot of guests. Meeting your wolf comes with the first shift/ transition, and that can be incredibly painful. As inherently social creatures, the only thing known to help wolves with the pain of the first shift is to have supportive family, friends, and community around you. The way that it typically works is that the pack will host a dinner or barbeque in your honor. As night falls, and the moon replaces the sun in the sky, everyone will gather inside the pack amphitheater. The shifter-to-be will stand in the middle of the amphitheater while guests quietly chant well wishes and prayers to the Moon Goddess. The energy in the space can be electrifying for everyone present, no matter whether there are 25 attendees or 500. Once the first shift is completed, the new wolf will prance around the stage and strut their stuff. The crowd will “ooh” and “aah” until the pack alpha approaches, learns the new wolf’s name, and introduces the wolf to the crowd. The new wolf will also swear his or her allegiance to the pack and to the alpha, allowing the wolf to mind-link with other pack wolves. Finally, the new wolf and any guests old enough to shift will go for a pack run. The whole process is incredibly special and exciting. As you might imagine, décor is also an important part of the party planning process. Each shifter gets to decide the decorations and party theme that will be used for their party. If more than one wolf turns 14 on the same day, the wolves can either agree on a theme or split the party into parts that they can individually decorate. The pack luna will then work some sort of magic that somehow blends the individual areas into one cohesive theme in the center. My birthday is in October, and despite how large our pack is, I am the only one born on that day. I love having an October birthday because my favorite season is fall. For my décor, I had picked flowers and decorations in rich fall colors, including deep oranges, reds, and greens. Unfortunately, none of my party decorations will be used. Or rather, none of my decorations will be used for me. As I mentioned, we are holding a funeral today instead. My oldest sister, Stephanie, died this morning. Pack and religious tradition dictates that we must hold funerals within 24 hours of death. Because Stephanie died shortly after midnight, her funeral must be held today. All food and décor set aside for my birthday party was therefore immediately diverted for the funeral; thankfully my fall themed colors were sufficiently somber-ish to work. All decorations that seemed relatively “happy”, celebratory, or that mention me have been removed. Pictures of Stephanie have now been placed on tables and podiums, and the music I selected has been swapped out for songs about loss or Stephanie’s favorites. The loss of Stephanie is a really hurting. Not only was she my sister and my parents’ oldest and favorite child, she was also widely anticipated to be the mate of Alpha Randall’s son, James, which meant she was most likely the future luna of our pack. Stephanie would have turned 20 in three months, and she and James would have been able to confirm that they were mates then. The pack was so sure that they were mates —and Alpha Randall was so eager to turn the pack over to James and his mate, once she was identified and ready to take on the luna position— that they deviated from standard protocols and decided to begin Stephanie’s Luna training just after she turned 18. If I am being completely honest, something never sat right with me about Stephanie starting Luna training. Part of it is what Stephanie's Luna training meant for me, but that is a separate conversation. The biggest thing was that I did not understand why luna training could not wait until Stephanie turned 20 and could confirm who her mate was. Lunas for generations have waited for their training; why couldn't Stephanie? It also bothered me quite a bit to watch Stephanie hang all over James at pack functions. Our pack frowned upon dating and public displays of affection prior to finding your mate; it created too much risk for problems, anger, and jealousy once your mate was located. For whatever reason, an exception was made for Stephanie. But then again, exceptions always were made for her. Stephanie was strong and absolutely beautiful, and the pack knew her as being kind, smart, and energetic. She could do no wrong in the eyes of my parents, the alpha, or the pack. I hope I do not sound too jealous or bitter. I loved my sister, and her death is hitting me really hard. It’s just that…. I knew a different side of my sister than everyone else, and I know more than anyone that my sister was far from perfect. Had I spoken up before she died, I would have been accused of jealousy and lying. And were I to speak up now, well… I would be accused of jealousy, lying, AND improperly speaking ill of the dead. It is easier to just let it go. Along with my birthday. It isn't that important anyway. I do not want to be selfish or self-centered. The only immediate problem with letting go is that --bad timing or not-- I am going to shift for the first time tonight. There is nothing I can do to stop or postpone it, as much as I would like to do so. I am worried about how it is going to go. Hopefully, during the reception, my mother or father or brother or someone will be willing to step aside with me for a 20-30 minutes just to get me through it. We could then return and act like everything is normal. Or as normal as it can be with Stephanie now gone. Sadly, I should have known that nothing in life is that easy. Chapter 2: The Little Brat (James POV) I watch sadly as the casket is carried from the temple to the burial grounds. It is a cold October day, and the gray sky and drizzly weather adds to the overall somber atmosphere. I cannot help but be impressed at how quickly the pack was able to pull everything together for Stephanie's funeral. All funerals happen quickly in our world, but because of how fast the funerals must take place, the décor and guest list is usually somewhat lacking. It is a testament to how much Stephanie was loved that they were able to put together so many beautiful floral arrangements in her honor, and that so many people were able to be here to honor her life, including many wolves from other packs. If it wasn't for it being such a horrible occasion, I would actually describe the color scheme as beautiful. Then again, fall has always been one of my favorite seasons. I am vaguely aware that we had some other function on the calendar today, but I honestly cannot think of what it was. With a large pack —the West Mountain Pack has over 10,000 members— we have a lot of functions. As the future alpha, I am expected to attend as many of them as I possibly can, but no one expects me to remember what they all are… even if I try to pretend in the moment. Unless reminded by an Omega or my amazing girlfriend, I can't even seem to remember my own mother and father's birthdays most of the time. My amazing girlfriend. I sigh, wiping a tear from my eye. She will never again be around to remind me about birthdays. Sadly, there will be no pretending that I know what today's ceremony is about. Stephanie Brogan was the love of my life, and she was my future mate and luna. I still cannot believe that she is gone. We never even got to fully experience the mate bond, including the sparks betwwen us. Had she lived just three months longer, our wolves would have confirmed one another as mates and Stephanie would have been able to formally claim her proper place in my bed and in my life. Instead of welcoming her body into my bed, I am saying good-bye to her today. I am also saying good-bye to all of our future plans and dreams together. I cannot help but feel anger and resentment about that. This is not how things were supposed to be. As I watch the funeral procession go by --my father, mother, and I, along with the beta family, must stand at the entrance as guests move from the temple to the burial grounds-- I catch a glimpse of Stephanie’s younger sister, Lily. She is standing next to her mother. She looks both sad and innocent, which causes the anger in my body to rise even more. That little brat is the reason that Stephanie is dead. *FLASHBACK TO LAST NIGHT* Stephanie and I are cuddled on the couch in the packhouse living room watching a movie. I have my hand on her arm and I am about to kiss her when she gets distracted by a text message. Stephanie did not let me see the message, which annoys me, but she quickly explains that Lily is lost in the forest after having snuck out to meet a boy. Stephanie’s sister is 13 or 14 years old. She has all the teenage acne and attitude that comes along with being that young. Unlike Stephanie —who has beautiful blond hair and hazel eyes— Lily has reddish brown hair and bright green eyes. Or at least I think they are bright green; she usually has them covered up with large black glasses. Stephanie gets up and tells me that Lily has texted her, begging her to come and find her. I am annoyed by the interruption, but I offer to go with Stephanie to get the little brat. Stephanie says Lily will be upset if anyone else knows about her little escapade. Stephanie reassures me that she will be fine, and then gives me a quick peck. My wolf and I have a bad feeling when Stephanie leaves, but Stephanie has us wrapped around her little finger. It is almost impossible for my wolf and I to disagree with her about anything. We pause the movie and decide to get some work done in my dad's office while we wait for Stephanie to get back. I am a night owl anyway, so I do not mind waiting. Unfortunately, about an hour after Stephanie leaves, I get an urgent mind-link from our pack warriors. They report that the Little Brat had been spotted running out of the woods screaming for help. Before they can say much more, I shift into my wolf form and take off running. I follow Stephanie’s scent far into the woods…. until I come to a small clearing, which is covered in Stephanie’s blood. Her bloody clothes are tossed around, and chunks of her hair are thrown about as well. It is the worst, most savage site that I have ever seen. The smell of rogues is all over, so it is fairly obvious what has happened. The a---holes didn’t even bother to leave her body. *END OF FLASHBACK* Tears threaten to continue to fall as I think back to the scene last night. I have not slept or eaten since I found what was left of Stephanie, and I am having trouble holding my emotions together. Now that my eyes have spotted Lily, my anger with her becomes a welcome distraction. I have a very hard time looking away from her. The truth is that I have always found myself strangely curious about her, but today… today all I want to do is take my anger out on someone, and she seems as good a target as anyone else. Her teenage behavior cost me my mate! And it cost this pack its future luna! My wolf, Luke, begs me to calm down. It is an interesting thing, having the wolf side try to calm the human side. As upset and angry and emotional as I am, it is tempting to ignore him and immediately start teach that Little Brat a lesson. However, I decide to follow Luke's advice after he reminds me that Stephanie deserves to have her funeral be all about her and not some whiny teenage brat. That does not mean that I am going to let Lily get away with what she has done, but I wait until a more appropriate time to take my revenge. I turn my focus back to Stephanie’s casket, which we filled with her bloody clothes, hair, and anything that could be found at the site that had her blood on it. The casket has been brought to the center of the amphitheater. The alpha and beta families take their seats in the front row, and my father and the pack priest move beside the casket to begin the ceremony. The ceremony involves a lot of prayers, rituals, and speakers. The average ceremony takes 2-3 hours, and Stephanie's will most likely take closer to 4-5 hours given her status in the pack and how beloved she was. During the ceremony, I keep trying to distract myself by looking around as others around me. I do not want to be seen as weak by curling into the fetal position and wailing like a baby, even though that is the only thing I want to do right now. My heart breaks as I glance at Stephanie’s parents next to me in the front row, holding on to one another as they cry. Seeing Stephanie’s father —a strong, powerful Beta wolf— break down is a sight I have very rarely seen. The pain in his eyes is heart-wrenching. I also notice Stephanie's brother, Nick, as he clings to his mate, Jenny. Both of them are crying as well. Nick is my best friend, and I have known him since we were tiny pups, but I have literally never seen him cry. I notice that there are no dry eyes anywhere. Even my father has a few stray tears running down his cheeks, although I am sure he would punch anyone who pointed it out. He is a proud man, just like me. As the sky continues to darken, I notice the Little Brat starting to act like she is uncomfortable in her seat. I can tell that Stephanie's mother is getting agitated, and rightly so. For once, can the Little Brat not think about something other than herself? Seriously. It is one ceremony. Just one. For an older sister who died trying to help her. How dare the Little Brat not hold herself together? The next thing I know, the moon is high in the sky and the final rites are being spoken by the priest. As exactly that moment, the Little Brat whispers something in her mother’s ear. Her mother turns and glares at her, causing the Little Brat to put her head down. I then watch as the Little Brat stands up and walks away. She looks like she is in pain, and I hope that she is. How dare she walk away from her sister’s funeral! Especially in the middle of the last rites! I am tempted to follow her and give her a piece of my mind, but Stephanie means more to me than that. I remind myself once again that I will get my revenge on Lily aka the Little Brat soon enough. For tonight, I must remain focused on the love of my life. Chapter 3: Lily Meets Rose “Y-yes.” “Good. Now open your eyes.” I opened my eyes and immediately noticed that I was not human anymore. My feet and hands were paws. I then looked into the water that pooled at the edge of the waterfall, and I saw my reflection… or rather the reflection of Rose. My heart stopped. There are many different types of wolves —alpha wolves; beta wolves; gamma wolves; warrior wolves; silver wolves; white wolves; red wolves; omega wolves. And even within those categories, there are varying sizes and colors and markings. We learn about the types of wolves in school. “Expect the unexpected” was a phrase that was often said about the first transition, but in reality your wolf generally follows your lineage: the children of alpha wolves will generally be alpha wolves; the children of beta wolves will generally be beta wolves; and so on. Typically, the big excitement —especially with children of ranked wolves— centers on the size, color, and personality of the new wolf. Looking back at me in the reflection of the pool was a type of wolf I had never seen or learned about in school. Rose’s fur was a beautiful bluish-silver color that almost glowed. On the right side of her rump was a large black crescent moon symbol, and the black coloring of that symbol matched her solid black paws and black tail. In addition, I noticed that Rose was huge. Although it was tough to tell, it appeared to me that Rose was at least as large as some alpha wolves. “What type of wolf are we, Rose?” “A special type. You will learn more as time goes on, but know that the Moon Goddess has blessed you and I, Lily.” I did not say anything; I was not sure what to say. Rose and I sat by the waterfall for a while longer, until I remembered Stephanie’s funeral. “We need to get back!” I told Rose in a panic. Rose guided me through how to transform back to our human form, and I frantically searched the nearby trees for clothes. I found a men’s t-shirt and shorts. Both were far too big for my small frame, so I opted to just put the t-shirt on. I also grabbed my eye-glasses off the ground and put them on; thankfully they did not break during the transition. Now that I had Rose, I would not need the glasses anymore because she would heal my eyes. However, Rose warned me that —for now— it was best that I continue to wear the glasses and let the pack believe that I did not yet have my wolf. I thought it was a curious thing for her to say, but I had no reason to not trust her. I hurried back to the packhouse and got into the beta suite, hoping to quickly change clothes and re-join the mourning crowd. Unfortunately, once I got in the suite, I was met with the angry, accusing eyes of my mother. “WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? HOW DARE YOU MAKE A SCENE AT YOUR SISTER’S FUNERAL! HAVE YOU NO SHAME? ARE YOU SO SELFISH AND SELF-CENTERED THAT YOU CAN THINK OF NO ONE BUT YOURSELF?” I said nothing. What could I say? My mother then did something that, in my 14 years, she had never done before. She slapped me. Hard. And the beating continued from there. Chapter 4: Living in the Shadows (6 years later) (Lily POV) Six years have now passed since that fateful day that Stephanie died. I wish that I could say that life has moved on, and that we have found good in the bad... but for the most part, it isn't true. Stephanie is just as much a part of this pack today as she was before she died. And the grief felt in the pack is just as raw and angry as it was that first day. If anything has changed, it is that --instead of Stephanie being out in the center of things-- she lives on almost like a shadow over everything. She now has a couple of streets named after her --Stephanie Lane and Steffie Avenue (her nickname was "Steffie"); and you can quite literally find some of her favorite outfits on display in glass cases at various places throughout the pack. Even more bizarre, the day she died was turned into a pack holiday, as was her birthday. Everyone but pack omegas have both days off from work, school, and training, and there are somber celebrations and remembrances planned to commemorate each occasion. I once made the mistake of asking my parents whether this was a normal reaction to the death of a single she-wolf. We can love and miss her, but to continue to hold large ceremonies every year? And to treat her as a saint and forget that she had a human side too? That seemed a bit too much to me. As far as I know, the pack has never done this for any other luna or future luna, and it only honors 2-3 historical alphas in such a manner. I was rewarded for my questions by being called jealous and hateful. (I also received a significant beating, but beatings had become commonplace from my mother, so I cannot say that my question necessarily triggered the beating I received that day. Plus, the beating hurt far less than what I received before Stephanie died. But for the slight pain and who did the beating, I almost would not have minded.) Overall, I think the worst part of losing Stephanie six years ago wasn't losing Stephanie... it was how losing Stephanie impacted my relationship with my parents and other pack members. Before Stephanie died, I was well aware that Stephanie was my parents' favorite. My older brother Nick and I would even joke about it from time to time. But even though Stephanie was their favorite, they still treated me really well and loved me. They never would have raised a hand to me before Stephanie died. After Stephanie died, however, my parents could barely look at me. And when they did, I saw the unmistakable wish in their eyes that it had been me, not Stephanie, that died that fateful night. In addition, my parents stopped caring about my well-being generally. I lived in their house until I was 17, but I was responsible for my own meals and necessities. I was forced to take on a part-time job at a nearby diner just to ensure I had clothes and food to eat. (I technically could have eaten the food that was available in the packhouse, but the dirty looks and mean comments made by my parents, James, and other pack members were enough to make that an unrealistic option.) Also, in case you are wondering, I have not celebrated a birthday since Stephanie died. Not one single soul other than Rose has bothered to tell me happy birthday. No one even bothered to ask me whether I had received my wolf. That wasn't because birthdays stopped being important; it was just mine whose meaning changed. I attended plenty of birthday parties, and the pack hosted plenty of 14th birthday celebrations. In fact, I think it was because of one of those birthday celebrations that someone finally questioned whether I had received a wolf. It was a legitimate question, given that I was over 14 and never joined a pack run. Rose encouraged me early on to skip them "for safety reasons," and I was all too happy to do so. Had anyone bothered to ask me directly about my wolf or about why I was skipping the pack runs, I would have been honest... but no one ever did. Instead, a rumor spread that I was wolfless. Pack members speculated that I lost my wolf as a result of post-traumatic stress from losing Stephanie and/or guilt for what I had done to Stephanie. That latter theory was the one that really got under my skin, because I knew that was a theory and rumor spread by James. Shortly after Stephanie's funeral, he told my parents and most of the pack that Stephanie was only in the forest that night to save me. He also said I had gone out to meet a boy. I have no idea why he would say such things; I have never had a boyfriend and Stephanie was the one who asked me to meet her in the forest. This rumor was the main reason that I received a beating from my mother the night of my first shift. And it probably adds to the reason that pack members wish me dead. Notably, though, I have never dared to defend myself. To tell the truth would be the equivalent of talking negatively of both Stephanie and our future alpha.... and would likely lead to a death sentence. So instead, I have always just pushed through. One of the ways that I have survived is to hold on to the faith that one day things will be different. Another thing that I have done is take every last opportunity to leave the pack. For example, I hurried through high school so that I could graduate early, and I then went away to college. To avoid coming home, I have been loading up on credit hours and taking every term of school -including the mini winter sessions-- that I can get. I am also taking advantage of a unique expedited program offered just for werewolves doctors. Given all of these things, I actually expect that I can become a fully licensed werewolf doctor in just a couple more years. Until I become fully licensed and independent, I will have to continue to bear the shadow of my sister and the pain that comes with it. I am required to be present for both of her holidays --all pack members are; there are no exceptions-- but thankfully those are among the very few times that I can reliably be found at the Western Mountain pack these days. My ultimate goal is to meet my mate and become a pack doctor in his pack... which I pray to the Moon Goddess is not the Western Mountain pack. If, Goddess forbid, my mate is in this pack, perhaps I can convince him to transfer packs with me. Goddess willing. Tomorrow is my birthday. I guess we will find out then. Chapter 5: Without His Luna (James POV) Tomorrow will mark six years since Stephanie died. Everything and nothing has changed. I still think of Stephanie every single day. Her beautiful smile. Her laugh. The kindness that she showed to pack members. The ethusiam that she showed for her luna training. Stephanie would have been an amazing and strong luna. Had Stephanie lived, we would have been happily married by now. We would probably have already had at least two adorable pups, who would have been doted on by two loving sets of grandparents. Together, Stephanie and I would have been leading the West Mountain Pack to new heights. Of course, Stephanie is no longer here. And without Stephanie… Well, without Stephanie, I am only a fraction of the man that I used to be, and only a fraction of the wolf. Without Stephanie, I am not even Alpha yet. In our world, most alpha heirs take over from their fathers between 25 and 30 years old. That timing ensures that most alphas will have already found their mates before they take over the running of a pack. Running a pack is not easy to do by yourself. Even with a strong beta and a strong gamma, a luna’s importance to a pack cannot be underestimated. A luna brings heart and balance to a pack and to the alpha himself. She is the alpha’s equal, and she is one of the few werewolves in the pack who can get away with challenging and questioning an alpha’s decisions. If she exercises her role properly and judiciously, a luna’s presence can lead to better overall outcomes, decisions, and governing. This is especially true if the luna is the alpha’s fated mate, because it means she takes on her role with the blessing of the Moon Goddess. Alpha heirs who take over their packs prior to turning 25 typically do so either out of necessity, or because they have been fortunate to have been mated very early to a strong luna. Six years ago, when Stephanie was still alive, my father thought we were going to be part of the lucky latter category. He had been very eager to take an early retirement. He and my mother had fantasized about all the European trips and Caribbean cruises that they would take after I was sworn in as alpha, and they had already had tentative plans for at least one of those trips. Of course, all of those plans were ultimately scrapped. Today, I am old enough to take over as alpha, even without a luna by my side… but my father is concerned that I am not mentally strong enough to do so yet. He sees me as broken. My father is probably right. It is a little hard not to feel broken. The reminders of Stephanie are everywhere. Even after six long years, I feel like I cannot escape from the reminders or from my grief, and it is suffocating. The packhouse has practically turned into a mini museum to her, and almost all of the local businesses have some sort of small dedication, whether it be a dedicated drink, food item, picture, or shelf of Stephanie-inspired items. Worse, twice a year, we hold a series of ceremonies and remembrances for Stephanie. As Stephanie’s mate and as the future alpha heir, I am expected to attend every one of them. I want to be there. I know that I should be there. But… It is complete and utter torture. Every day without Stephanie is difficult, but Stephanie’s birthdays and death anniversaries always hit me the hardest. What I want to do more than anything on those two days is be by myself so that I can process my grief. There is a waterfall that I like to go to. If I could, I would spend all day there on both days. The waterfall isn’t exactly hidden, but to find it, you have to go pretty far within the woods and know where to go. As far as I know, I am the only one in our pack who ever goes there. Being at the waterfall brings me comfort; it always has. That is where I want to be when I am grieving or upset. Unfortunately, instead of spending time in the comfort of my waterfall, I have to spend the two hardest days each year out in public with almost 20,000 eyes watching my every move and every reaction. Instead of just… grieving… I have to be conscientious of how every display of emotion can impact and be perceived by the pack members. As I listen to pack members, Stephanie’s parents, and my own parents take turns telling stories about Stephanie and her good deeds, I am expected to somehow strike an impossible balance between sadness and strength. At each of the events, year after year, the remembrances are largely the same. At this point, I practically have the speeches memorized. The speeches usually include stories about how Stephanie would bake cookies and send her sister to deliver them to the guards working the late-night shift on the borders. And stories about how any time anyone was injured in training or at battle, she would not only have her sister deliver care baskets to patients at the hospital, but she would also put one together for any family members separated from them while they were recovering. My parents talk about how eager Stephanie was to take on her position as luna, and how dedicated she was to her training, even working on lessons for hours at home multiple times per week. Stephanie’s parents talk about their prior dreams for their daughter and the hole they continue to feel in their hearts. Nick talks about how family celebrations do not feel the same without Stephanie there, and Jenny talks about wishing that she still had a sister-in-law to bond with and engage in girl talk. The only blessing is that —as the grieving mate— no one expects me to say anything at these events. But that does not spare me from the staring and judgment. If I show too much sadness, pack members worry that I am weak and will not able to be the leader of the pack in the future. If I seem too stoic or show too much “strength,” pack members could perceive me being disrespectful towards Stephanie’s memory. They will also worry that my reign as alpha will lack balance and compassion…. which I already hear whispers about from time to time. Sometimes, I feel angry about the whole thing. I would never, ever expect anyone who has lost their mate to put themselves on a stage multiple times a year and be judged on whether their external grief is appropriate enough. And yet my parents have no problem doing it to me. I tried to push back once, but only once. As you can imagine, it did not go well. I started the conversation by telling my parents that I did not think it was healthy for me to be surrounded by constant reminders of Stephanie, and I told them that I thought the constant remembrances were counterproductive to my mental health. I suggested that we scale back the events, or make them more private affairs. My father got angry and accused me of being selfish. He told me that being uncomfortable and coping with the pressure of judgmental pack members is part of being an alpha. Meanwhile, my mother reminded me that the ceremonies had been Stephanie’s parents’ idea, and she asked me if I wanted to be the one to tell them it was no longer important to celebrate Stephanie’s life. No, of course I did not want to tell Stephanie's parents that. No, I did not want to be selfish. I just wanted --and still want-- to not feel so sad all the time. Six years in, and the only reprieve I ever get from my grief is when the Little Brat is around. She has made herself scarce the last few years, but when she is around, my wolf and I can sense her from a mile away. My wolf and I fight about her all the time --for some reason, Luke seems to have a soft spot for the Little Brat-- but we can agree that it is nice having her around. For me, it's because I have a worthy target for my anger and rage. Chapter 8: Daddy's Girl (Lily POV) The drive to the pack house was eerily silent. After my father and I arrived at the pack house, my father quickly exited the vehicle and headed to his office, leaving me on my own. I timidly and cautiously got into the beta suite, but I was relieved to find that my mother was already in bed. I decided to go directly to my room and try to sleep as well. Unfortunately, I ended up tossing and turning all night. The look on my father's face when talking to the guards continued to haunt me. When I did sleep, I had nightmares. Strangely, Rose seemed restless too, but other than briefly wishing me a happy birthday after it hit midnight, she did not say anything. I think the main thing that provoked my nightmares and kept me up was that my heart ached for my father. I knew that I wanted to help him with his pain and ease his suffering, but I was not sure what I could do or say to make things better. It has already been six years. If time has not helped heal his heart, what could I do? The truth is, I am not Stephanie and I never will be. The only thing I have ever known how to do for my father is to try to stay out of his way. At least for my mother, I can serve as a literal punching bag to help her relieve her grief. And for others in the pack, I can serve as both a literal and metaphorical punching bag. But, I am nothing to my father: my father has neglected me and ignored the sufferings I went through, but he has never directly participated in any of them. Perhaps that is one reason his pain upsets me more than the pain of everyone else. He is the least awful amongst my current tormentors, and I can sometimes lie to myself that he does not know or agree with how much I have suffered. I know that it probably seems strange that my heart aches for him at all, given that he is someone who, for the most part, could care less about me. However, please understand that for my own sanity, I have chosen to remember and hold on to the good times in my childhood. Of course, there is also the fact that... regardless of how my father currently feels about me... I have always been --and will probably always be-- a daddy's girl. It is just part of who I am. Since I was in diapers, I have looked up to my father and considered him to be my superhero. Before Stephanie died, I never saw an ounce of weakness in him. He was my strength and my rock. I always had an strong desire to make him proud of me. He was always the first one I ran to when I got a good grade on a test, or when I drew a picture I thought he might like. And ...before Stephanie died... he was always the first one to dry my tears when I got hurt or to give me reassuring praise when I felt down. Even though I knew Stephanie was his favorite... even though I knew Stephanie's accomplishments would always be greater, and that he would always be more proud of her... those little things mattered to me. I lived for those moments. Sigh. By 5:30 am, I gave up on any hope of further sleep. Stephanie's first remembrance event was not scheduled until 11 am, so I knew I had a little bit of time. Eager to take advantage of that time and also avoid my mother, I took a quick shower, packed a small backpack, and headed out of the house. Predictably, my feet led me to the waterfall that I had shifted in front of six years ago. I have come here at least twice a year since Stephanie died, usually on her birthday and death anniversary. The waterfall brings me an odd sense of peace. As beautiful as it is, I do not know anyone else who comes here. Perhaps that is why I like it so much. I sighed. "It is easy to tell myself that when I am away from the pack and not having to cope with the consequences. It is a lot harder to believe that I am blameless when everyone around me is crying and upset all the time. You saw my dad last night. That nearly broke me. He is still hurting so much." "That does not make any of it your fault," Rose protests. "Rose, the day before Stephanie died, I prayed that the Moon Goddess stop Stephanie from continuing to hurt me." "She was not hurting you, Lily. She was torturing you. There is nothing wrong with you praying that it stop." "There is if it cost Stephanie her life." "Lily, you are not giving the Moon Goddess enough credit. You are smarter and stronger than this. You need to stop with the emotional vomit and ---" Suddenly Rose stops talking through the link. She is pacing back in forth in my head. I have no idea what is going on, until the overwhelming scent of vanilla and coffee beans hits my nose. "Mate! Lily, our mate is here! Mate, mate, mate, mate, mate!!!" I stand, dust the ashes off of my jeans, and turn around. My heart drops when I recognize the werewolf standing about 200 feet away from me. This has to be a joke. This cannot be happening.	LEARN_MORE	https://getokn.com/market/goodnovel/1?lpid=10745&u	Massive story	https://www.facebook.com/61560932294131/	0	1969-12-31 18:00	Learn More	getokn.com	DCO		https://getokn.com/market/goodnovel/1?lpid=10745&utm_campaign={{campaign.name}}&utm_content={{campaign.id}}&adset_name={{adset.name}}&adset_id={{adset.id}}&ad_id={{ad.id}}&ad_name={{ad.name}}	1969-12-31 18:00	https://scontent-iad3-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.35426-6/448916543_502070082268628_4383741934976369995_n.jpg?stp=dst-jpg_s60x60&_nc_cat=108&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=c53f8f&_nc_ohc=RRJFqgnFiO8Q7kNvgH-bpOt&_nc_ht=scontent-iad3-1.xx&_nc_gid=AMmZ9LLdhGWxMcaSSGDCLNW&oh=00_AYDyicgla7uEcvhi1hDzTAvfucY9MRhFfKj1BBLZSzyyyQ&oe=670BB450	PERSON_PROFILE	Massive story	1969-12-31 18:00	View Edit Delete
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