Alpha of My Own Making

Today was supposed to be my mating day.

The day Tristan Veyne would mark me as his Luna, in front of the whole Ashveil Pack. We’d trained together since we were pups. Everyone said we were the perfect match. Future Alpha and Luna. Balanced. Predictable. Safe.

I smoothed down the front of my cloak for the hundredth time and glanced toward the entrance again.

Still no one.

Not a single soul had shown up—not my parents, not my brother Rafe, not even Tristan.

Just me, standing alone in the silence.

I pulled out my phone and checked for the fifth time. No new messages. My thumb hovered over Tristan’s name before I called again.

It rang twice, then went to voicemail.

I stared at the screen, unsure whether to laugh or throw it against the stone wall.

Then the pack announcement flashed across it:

[WELCOME HOME SERA THORNHART]

A video auto-played.

There they were—my family. All of them. Gathered at the arrival gates of the northern ridge, where the skycrafts landed. My father beamed, my mother teared up, and Rafe had lifted Sera into a spinning hug. Even Tristan was there, standing just behind her.

Sera’s golden hair glinted under the lantern lights. Her arm curled tightly around Tristan’s like she belonged there.

She always did.

My chest burned.

A moment later, my phone buzzed again. This time it was Tristan.

“Stop being dramatic, Kiera,” he said, his voice dry, like I’d called to complain about the weather. “We’ll do the ceremony later. Sera just got back from Alpha training at Wolfsbane Academy —”

The line cut.

I stared at the screen, my claws itching to come out.

Around me, the ceremonial hall remained silent, filled only with the soft rustle of moonflower petals falling to the floor.

I looked down at the cloak I’d spent hours sewing silver threads into. It pooled around me now like shed fur, like something I didn’t deserve to wear.

I slipped it off and left it there.

The Ashveil Pack buzzed with noise when I returned.

Someone had roasted meat on the back grill. Sera’s perfume floated through the halls—rose and sweetleaf, strong enough to push every other scent away. Laughter echoed from the main room. A celebration, loud and thoughtless.

No one noticed when I slipped inside through the kitchen door.

I went straight to my room, sat on the edge of my bed, and stared at the list I’d written in my journal. A simple list. Every time I’d been forgotten. Overlooked. Passed over.

I added another entry at the bottom:

Mating ceremony—no one came.

A knock slammed against the door.

It creaked open, and Rafe stepped inside like he owned the place, his boots heavy on the floor.

“There you are.” He looked me over, taking in the fur cloak now folded by my desk and the half-written letter to the Council. “Sera wants your meatloaf. Make it spicy—she says she missed the way you cook it.”

I stared at him, hands resting on my lap.

“You missed my mating ceremony.”

Rafe blinked, then shrugged like it didn’t matter. “It’s just a ritual. You and Tristan can do it next moon, or the one after. Sera’s back, Kiera. We haven’t seen her in a year.”

He picked up my journal from the desk, flipped through it without asking.

“You still writing this stuff down?” His eyes landed on the fresh page. At the top in bold letters:

FINAL WARNING.

He snorted. “What’s that supposed to mean? You gonna run away? To be a rogue?”

He tossed the journal back onto the bed. “Just make the meatloaf, Kiera.”

I stood slowly and walked past him toward the kitchen. My hands stung as I pulled out the meat from the cold box. The new soap they’d brought back for me to use—Sera’s favorite brand—had left red blotches on my skin.

Rafe leaned against the wall behind me, watching too closely.

“Why are you so quiet?” he asked. “Planning to poison her or something?”

Before I could answer, her voice rang out from the main room.

“Rafeee! The chestnuts!”

He rolled his eyes and muttered, “Coming,” before turning and leaving without a second glance.

I washed my hands under cold water, watching the red fade into pale pink. My eyes drifted to the counter.

There sat the ceremonial cake I’d ordered. Still untouched.

The bonding rings lay beside it, sealed in their velvet box.

I didn’t cry.

I just stood there for a long time, staring at all the things that were supposed to matter.

My wolf had been quiet all day, but now her voice was sharp in my head.

Veyla, my wolf, growled low in my chest.

“They’ve made their choice,” she said. “So will we.”

I looked toward the window. Beyond it, the dark trees of the northern woods swayed gently in the night wind.

Sera was back. She had everything.

And me?

I was done waiting.