Page 4 of Claimed By the Rival Alpha

brYN

Igripped the table’s edge and steeled myself against the onslaught of emotion.

Nobody was paying attention to me anyway.

As word spread, concerned murmuring filled the dining hall.

It was too much too soon. Without a word to my mother, I exited out the same door the woman had come through for some cool, fresh air.

By this time, the sun had begun to crest over the horizon, filling the sky with gold and casting the clouds in amethyst and sapphire.

Below the stunning sunrise, emerald leaves and dark blue tree trunks extended for miles in front of me.

I normally would have taken a moment to enjoy the magnificent sight, but I couldn’t focus on that now.

Outside of the shade provided by the mess hall, the pack was abuzz with chatter and movement.

Wolves zipped from building to building with the Alpha’s name on their lips. I pressed my back to the building, slid down to a crouch, and held my head in my hands. I took a few deep breaths, inhaling cool air and exhaling steam as I collected myself.

Gregor’s dead, but this doesn’t have to be the end, I counseled myself.

Troy isn’t Alpha yet. But it was cold comfort—he would be Alpha soon.

After an Alpha died, the pack would enter a five-day mourning period.

Every day of this period included a celebration, and a challenge ceremony would take place on the last night.

The right to be Alpha was passed down genetically from father to son, but during the challenge ceremony, any wolf who wanted to try for the position would enter a fight to the death with the Alpha’s son.

If the Alpha had no sons, the beta would host the challenge and claim the mantle if he was undefeated or unchallenged.

Nowadays, challenges were usually hosted as a formality.

They were generally treated as another opportunity for everyone to take a break from work and remember the deceased Alpha.

Or at least, that was what Mom said—this would be my first time experiencing such a celebration.

I counted the days before the challenge ceremony, and my blood went cold. My twentieth birthday was the day after the ceremony.

The twentieth birthday for a shifter was a pretty big deal.

Twenty was considered the age when wolves were old enough to mate and form a permanent bond with another shifter, and from what I had learned and read about in school, female shifters bonded with the male shifter who took her virginity.

So, female shifters were restricted to only ever having one mate.

I’ve spent my whole life looking forward to my twentieth birthday, only for it to be ruined by Troy becoming Alpha. What’s worse is that I know he’ll do everything in his power to make me even more miserable. As this thought came to me, a void began to open in my chest.

I had always hoped that by my twentieth birthday, I would have found acceptance, friends, or happiness—anything to cut down on the pain of being the black sheep of the Kings’ pack.

I’d thought that my cynical side would have crushed that hope, but it had remained until now.

So, there was no way I could suppress the darkness that filled my chest as I considered my upcoming birthday.

After all, what shifter would want to be with a weak human?

To be honest, I had no intention of finding a mate, but I’d remained a virgin just in case my theory proved wrong.

Holding on to my virginity hadn’t been difficult; Troy had essentially mandated that everyone our age treat me like shit.

So, I not only had no potential mates but also had no female friends.

The girls my age were too focused on pleasing Troy just in case he, or one of his high-ranking friends, would choose them as a mate.

I had seen girls swarm around Troy like bees to honey.

Thinking about it left me shivering with disgust. Or with cold.

It was possible the chill had started to seep through my outer layers.

I straightened from my crouch. Though I was far from okay, the fresh air had calmed me enough that I felt I could continue serving breakfast. I wiped my sweaty palms over my pants and returned to the dining hall. On my way to the kitchen, my shoulder bumped into another female shifter.

I took a healthy step back and looked up to find Trish’s ice-blue eyes glaring down at me.

I took another step back and glanced at the two women standing at Trish’s side—Tara, a brunette, and Tanya, whose dirty blonde hair was cut short around her chin.

The three were always together, and, like Troy, they thrived on my misery.

They were often present for Troy’s bullying, egging him on to do worse, to hurt me more.

Their flashy clothes clung to their lithe, muscular frames and showed off their assets to any interested male. And there were plenty of men who were interested. They wore the latest in human fashion, unlike me and Mom, whose wardrobe consisted mostly of hand-me-downs.

“Ew,” Trish dusted off her shoulder as if coming into contact with me had left a residue. “A rat.”

“Someone ought to call an exterminator before it becomes an infestation,” Tanya added.

Tara covered her glossy, pink lips with her hand and snickered.

I’m surprised you notice anything beyond that massive ego, Trish.

I kept the thought to myself and schooled my expression into a neutral mask.

After years of this treatment, it took much more than this to crack through my shield.

Though inside, as always, the insults pelted me raw.

These were the Terrible T’s, as I thought of them, and they had bullied me almost as horribly as Troy.

“It’s a shame that Alpha Gregor is dead,” Tanya said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Troy will be alone without his family to help him through this. But I’m sure you’ll be there for Troy, right, Trish?”

Trish’s laugh was the sound of an ice cube crunching between teeth. “Of course. I’ll visit him as soon as he’s feeling up to it.”

The girls giggled, and I wished the ceiling could cave down on me or that I would spontaneously combust—anything to avoid having to entertain the possibility of Trish and Troy ruling the pack together.

Dying would be preferable to enduring their torment twenty-four seven.

Trish and her friends knew that, which was why they were talking about it in front of me.

“Oh, you’re still here?” Tara asked as if she’d completely forgotten about my presence. “Can’t you take a hint?”

Trish’s hand, lightning quick, suddenly grabbed my shoulder. I winced under her viselike grip, which caused the other girls to laugh.

“Such a fragile thing, aren’t you?” Trish said, her long, flaxen hair spilling in perfect waves over her shoulders as she bent toward me. “Better scurry along now, little rat, before one of us accidentally crushes you.”

The moment Trish released my shoulder, I accepted the dismissal and hurried the rest of the way to Mom.

My shoulder throbbed. I knew I’d have an awful bruise tomorrow, but considering how badly that could have gone, it was a small price to pay for colliding with the Terrible T’s.

I’d learned that it was always better to stay silent and unseen when they were around.

News of the Alpha’s passing must have made me careless.

I took my spot beside Mom, who leaned in close to speak to me. “Are you okay?”

I nodded. “I’m fine. Let’s just get this morning over with.”

“Agreed. Things are about to get very busy around the pack.”

I tried to focus on passing out bowls of oatmeal.

I kept my eye on the door, dreading the moment when Troy or one of his friends would walk in, but to my surprise (and relief), he never showed.

In fact, as I looked around the dining hall, I noticed that half the normal number of wolves were gathered around the tables.

Word of Alpha Gregor’s passing must’ve made the rounds.

News like that wouldn’t take long to spread.

Many wolves would have rushed home to prepare for the days of mourning.

In addition to the celebrations, the older wolves would share stories of the bravery and valor of the old Alpha.

Young male wolves would fight each other to impress Troy in hopes of being promoted to be his beta or at least part of his inner circle.

The of-age females, including some older unmated ones, would primp and preen and flaunt their bodies in front of Troy.

For these hopefuls, there was much to do around their homes.

Breakfast was over sooner than usual because of Gregor’s sudden passing. After the dishes were clean, Mom and I headed home.

“Mom, what will we do for the days of mourning?” I asked.

“We’ll harvest all the fruits and vegetables we’ll need for the feasts.” She set her gaze on me, a knowing gentleness in her eyes. “You don’t have to worry about Troy. I doubt you’ll come in contact with him at all because of his father’s passing. He’ll be far too busy with preparations.”

I gave her a small smile. It was a relief to hear that I wouldn’t have to worry about Troy. Most of the pack worshipped the ground the Redwolfs walked on, so the thought of having to watch Troy’s already overinflated ego grow even larger left a sour taste in my mouth.

Keeping my focus on the garden would also allow me to think of an action plan for my escape. I had five days, and I needed to use that time wisely.

Mom and I went immediately to the community garden, which was visible from our house.

Mom wanted me to look at the peppers and do some prep work for the time of mourning.

I walked through the wooden gate that Mom had built before I was even a part of her life, and the welcome smell of fresh vegetables greeted me. Mom’s green thumb was supernatural.