Rejected by the Ruthless Alpha, Claimed by the Pack

There’s never enough liquor in the entire shifter world to drown out alpha egos, and tonight proves it again.

I tilt the stolen bottle of red wine lifted straight from the teachers’ lounge at Caeli Pack Academy and take a long, burning swallow before handing it over to Aurelia. She’s the only soul in this frozen corner of Alaska I actually want to be around. The only reason I’m even sitting here at this pathetic blood-moon “celebration” for a bunch of eighteen-year-olds with zero actual booze.

Aurelia coughs hard after her own pull, then shoots me a glare that turns into a reluctant grin when I snort. She’s stupidly gorgeous and she hates when I point it out, but it’s the truth. That perfect mix of her mom’s delicate features and her dad’s strong Caeli bloodline makes her look like she stepped out of one of the ancient pack tapestries we’re forced to study.

Curly blonde hair tucked behind her ears, big blue eyes scanning the room, she's everything a Caeli wolf is supposed to be. Me? I’m the glitch in the snow. Dark-red hair that screams “doesn’t belong,” a wolf form the color of fresh blood, and one stubborn streak of white that cuts down the side of my face like a scar from a fight I never asked for. In a pack full of snow-white fur and quiet conformity, I stick out like a drop of ink on fresh paper.

The Caeli Pack keeps itself buried high in the Alaskan mountains where the wind howls louder than any wolf and humans are too smart or too scared to wander. They need us, sure. We’re the supernatural muscle that keeps the real monsters off their backs. But our real job? Record every damn thing that happens in the shifter world. Archivists with fangs. Librarians who bite back.

“I stick out like a sore thumb no matter where I go,” I mutter, more to myself than to her.

Aurelia wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and shrugs. “So what? Pretty and different isn’t a curse, Lila. Stop acting like it is.”

Easy for her to say. She slides into this pack like she was born wearing the uniform. Me? My ass barely fits these skinny jeans, and blending in has never been in my skill set. At parties like this, though, the script flips. Mating season is breathing down everyone’s necks another year and most of the girls will be locked into chosen bonds. The guys are already circling the prettiest prize in the room, and right now that prize is glowing in a tight yellow dress that makes her legs look endless.

Finding a mate isn’t even on my radar. Not with any of these spoiled pack princes, anyway.

I snatch the bottle back. “Screw it. After the academy ends in two weeks, I’m gone. Maybe I’ll head to Stormfire and throw myself into the demon-hunting trials. Or track down my deadbeat father and see if I finally fit somewhere.”

Aurelia’s eyes go wide. She yanks the wine away like it’s poison. “Have you lost your mind? Those trials will get you killed. That's no more wine for you tonight.”

I laugh and narrow my eyes at her. “I’m not even buzzed yet.”

“You sound exactly like my aunt after too many New Year’s shots. Those demons treat wolves like snacks, Lila. They rip us apart for fun. Why the hell would you want that life?”

She shakes her head, curls bouncing. “You’re safe here. Stay.”

“My brother left,” I remind her quietly.

Aurelia sighs and drops her head onto my shoulder for a moment, warm against the chill that always seems to live in my bones. “Yeah, but he’s a guy built like a tank. They train them from pups to fight. There are maybe three female demon hunters in all of Stormfire, and every single one of them is terrifying.”

“So you’re saying I’m not terrifying?” I lift an eyebrow.

She bursts out laughing, the sound bright enough to cut through the thumping bass leaking from the other room. “If you’d grown up in Stormfire learning how to tear throats instead of memorizing bloodlines and ancient treaties, maybe we’d be having a different talk. But you didn’t. We didn’t. We know books, not battle. Come on, Lila. You know I’m right. Tell me you weren’t actually serious.”

I don’t answer. She is right, and that’s the worst part. The thought of spending the rest of my days buried in wolf history, copying scrolls, and pretending this frozen library life is enough makes my skin crawl. Every day the pack tightens its grip a little more, and I can feel myself suffocating under the weight of expectations I never wanted.

“We’ll argue about it later,” I say, rolling my shoulder so she sits up. “Company’s incoming.”

Aurelia straightens, smoothing down that sparkly yellow dress that hugs every curve. I cross my legs, the denim pulling tight, and knock dried mud off my scuffed combat boots. She’d talked me into “dressing up” for this thing at one of her friends’ houses, something I usually avoid like a silver bullet.

Parties aren’t my scene. I’d rather kill this bottle alone in my room with the door locked and some decent music on. But Aurelia’s an extrovert on steroids, so I compromise. Drag myself out of my cave every once in a while. C’est la vie and all that bullshit.

The alpha’s twin sons come stomping down the hallway like they own the oxygen. The music slams through the walls, some brainless pop track about humans twerking and the floor vibrates under my boots. Another reason I hate these gatherings. The playlist is always garbage.

Give me something raw, something with guitars that actually bleed, and maybe I’d move. Guns N’ Roses? I might even surprise everyone and dance instead of hiding in the corner.

Next to me, Aurelia’s already swaying, singing every word under her breath and bumping my shoulder with hers. I can’t stop the small smile that tugs at my lips. I thought we could disappear back here, just the two of us and the stolen wine. But the twins’ shadows fall over us now, heavy and expectant, and I realize my hiding game needs serious work.