Page 32

B rielle

I was being followed. Shadows shifted between the tall pines, and the smell of damp earth filled the cold air.

My paws barely touched the ground as I ran, the wind rushing past in a blur of sound and feeling.

Each step felt easy, natural, as if I was meant to run like this.

But no matter how fast I went, something unseen followed close behind, its presence looming ever closer.

I pushed harder, letting my wolf take over, my paws digging deeper into the soft ground.

I’d never felt so free. The wind brushed through my fur, and the moonlight lit up patches of the forest floor.

I didn’t know where I was going, but I felt drawn, like something deep inside was calling me forward.

A howl broke through the quiet night, low and chilling. It wasn’t mine. My head snapped to the side, trying to find where it came from. I stopped, my paws sinking into the dirt, my eyes searching the dark forest. All I could see were endless shadows.

The howl came again, sharper this time, and something inside me stirred. It reached a part of me I hadn’t known was there, something wild and unknown. My heart pounded. I had been found.

I shot upright, heart pounding against my ribs as the remnants of the dream faded back into my subconscious.

For a second, I swore I could still feel the forest—its heartbeat, its vastness.

It felt like I was one with all that was around me.

I wasn’t just running through it. I was a part of it, But that was impossible.

Humans were not wolves and there was no freedom that could ever be felt like my life.

Groaning, I swung my legs off the side of the bed and planted my feet on the worn hardwood floor. The planks creaked under my pressure, the joys of living in a dingy run down apartment. I rubbed my temples, trying to shake the odd sense of longing the dream had left behind.

Why had it felt so damn real?

Shoving the thought aside, I checked my phone. No messages, as usual. I guess no messages were a good thing. A new message would have meant that something would have happened to my mother and I could not be dealing with another health crisis from the moment I peeled my eyes open.

My shift at the bar started in an hour, and after that, I’d spend the evening at the hospital with Mom. The routine was as familiar as it was exhausting, but there wasn’t much room for anything else.

Work. Hospital. Barely sleep. Work again.

“Just another day,” I muttered, forcing myself to stand. “Here we go.”

And then moved throughout the day like clockwork. One foot in front of the other, it was all muscle memory at this point.

By the time I reached the bar, the smell of stale beer and fried food clung to the air like an old, unwelcome friend.

It was a weekday, so the place wasn’t packed, but the regulars were already trickling in.

As I wiped down the counter, I heard snippets of their conversations.

The mundane woes of the people of the world.

While their days were winding down, mine was only beginning.

I moved on autopilot, taking orders and refilling glasses.

The hours bleed into each other until I came to the end of my shift.

I clocked out and grabbed my coat, mentally preparing myself for another night surrounded by the sterile scent of antiseptic and the relentless beep of monitors.

I hope that this time they had a decent flavored jello though–I hated the apple one.

I arrived at the Mercy West Hospital–a second home of sorts. I knew the ins and outs of this place like the back of my hand. It was about as welcoming as any hospital would be.

When I arrived, my father was already there, seated beside Mom’s bed. His face was drawn, worry etched into every line. “How’s she doing?” I asked, keeping my voice low as I approached.

He glanced up, his eyes heavy with the kind of exhaustion that came from carrying too much for too long. “Same as before.” he said.

There was and edge to his voice that I didn’t like. It was the worry in his eyes that flashed only for a moment in his caramel gaze.

“What is it dad?”

He breathed a heavy sigh and then tilted his head up to the ceiling. “The collectors…”

I stiffened, those two words alone were enough to have my heart plummeting to the floor. “What about them?”

“They came by the apartment again. Another warning, we have less than a month to pay back almost 200,000 dollars worth of loans.”

I clenched my fists, anger rising within me like a tidal wave. We’d been living on borrowed time for months, juggling payments and dodging eviction notices. The weight of it all felt suffocating, but I couldn’t let my father see that.

“We’ll handle it,” I said firmly, though the words felt empty–much like my heart these days.

He nodded, but neither of us believed it. We were barely holding on to life as it was. We stared at my frail mother, once so full of life, now she spent her days on the hospital bed barely clinging onto life.

The only sound that filled the silence was the gentle beeping of the monitors that reminded us that she was still in fact alive–even if she teetered between the land of the living and the dead.

The walk home from the hospital felt heavier than usual, as if the weight of that latest warning was pressing down on my shoulders.

My father shuffled beside me, silent and lost in thought.

The chill in the air whipped my skin, but I barely noticed.

The only thing that plagued my brain were the numbers on those damn bills.

We had a month to pay back 200,000 dollars and my father worked in a factory and I a bar.

The mountain we had to climb was massive.

When we reached the apartment, I fumbled with the keys, my hands stiff from the cold. As the door creaked open, the dim light of the living room revealed the cracked wallpaper and sagging furniture. Home had never felt so fragile much like the state of my mother.

‘You should prepare for the worst’. The words of the doctor plagued my mind. Preparing for the worst. That was the point we had reached now. She needed to get the surgery in order to save her life but the price for it was too much. I had taken out so many loans. I couldn’t do it again.

“We’ll figure something out,” I said again, but my voice lacked conviction.

“I am going to take a shower, sweetie. Then we can have some dinner.” My father trudged his way to his room leaving me alone to my thoughts.

I sank onto the couch and buried my face in my hands. We were running out of time, and I was running out of ideas. The sound of a firm knock jolted me out of my thoughts.

I frowned, glancing at the door. It was late, too late for visitors. A second knock followed, sharper this time, and I felt a strange unease settle in my chest. My instincts told me to grab my nearest weapon and ready myself for a fight.

Standing from my couch, I moved toward the door and peered through the peephole.

Two men stood on the other side, dressed in all black and looking serious. The first was older, with sharp, angular features and an air of authority that made my breath catch. His dark coat and piercing eyes gave him the look of someone who didn’t ask for permission. He simply took what he wanted.

The second man was younger, but no less imposing.

His storm-grey eyes locked onto the door as if he could see right through it.

There was something unsettlingly familiar about him, though I couldn’t place it.

I would remember if i had seen a face quite striking as his, but why did he feel like a long lost stranger to me?

A knock vibrated through the fragile wood of my apartment door again. I jumped back, a low gasp leaving my mouth.

“Brielle Lockwood,” a deep voice deep bellowed with commanding conviction. “We need to speak with you.”

That wasn’t my name. Why was he giving me the name Lockwood?

My pulse quickened but I held my resolve. “Who are you?” I called through the door, my hand gripping the handle tightly.

“Damien Lockwood,” he replied. “And this is Draven Thorne.”

“What do you want?” I asked, my voice steadier than I felt. I should call the my father or better yet the police. I patted down my jacket for my phone but I felt nothing. Shit. I whipped around and found it on the couch I had been sitting on.

“To take you home,” Damien said.

His words sent a shiver down my spine. “You’ve got the wrong person,” I said quickly. “This is my home and I don’t need to be taken anywhere. Look, I think you both should leave before I call the cops.”

“No,” Damien said firmly from the other side of the door. “This isn’t your home. Now we can either do this the easy way or the hard way, the choice is yours. Time is of the essence and I don’t have all night. Your home is the Frost Pack not this dingy little shabeen you call a home.”

I stared at the door, my mind reeling. The Frost Pack? This man must be on drugs. I had heard that there was some new stuff circulating on the streets.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, my voice faltering. “You should leave before I call the cops. You have the wrong house.”

“You will,” Damien replied. “Open the door, Brielle. It’s time you learned the truth.”

Every instinct screamed at me not to open the door. The weight of Damien’s words pressed down on me, and yet. It was the authority in his voice. It pulled at something in me to want to obey him, to want to give him exactly what he wanted.

I shook my head and took a step back toward the door and peeped again.

The two men had not moved. The younger one, Draven, remained as stoic as he had been in the beginning.

But then as if sensing my presence again he whipped his gaze to the peephole.

The electric shock from his gaze alone was enough to have my heart clambering.

He was tall, even taller than the older guy.

His well groomed raven black hair looked sleek.

Woah. What was that?

I tightened my grip on the handle. “If this is about the debt, I don’t have anything to give you yet. We were told that we have a month to pay it off.” I said, my voice tinged with bitterness.

“This isn’t about money,” Damien said, his tone unyielding. “It’s about who and what you are.”

I knew that it was better for me to keep the door closed. To run to my phone and call the police. But something within me gave me some ease. It was this calming wave that washed over me suddenly and out of the blue.

Taking a deep breath–against my better judgement, I unlocked the door and pulled it open just enough to face them. Damien’s commanding aura was even more overwhelming in person, and Draven’s eyes felt like twin storms threatening to pull me under.

They radiated power and authority. I even had to avert my eyes to keep my resolve even though inside I was trembling like a guppy fish. The halls that I had presumed to be empty were lined by at least six men dressed in all black suits.

“You have the wrong person,” I say with a steady tone. “I don’t know where you came from or how you know my name is Brielle but I am not the person you are looking for.”

Damien’s lips twitched, but it wasn’t quite a smile. “Your name is Brielle Antoinette Lockwood,” he said. “You’re my granddaughter, the rightful heir to the Frost Pack. And like us, you’re a wolf.”

I blinked. Surely I had heard this man wrong. I looked between the two men, both of which were staring at me with great intensity.

“This is insane,” I said, shaking my head. “You two are complete lunatics. I am not your granddaughter and I am most certainly not a…a—I cant even say the word its so ridiculous.”

After the day I have had, I was all tapped out on my bullshit meter.

“You are,” Damien interrupted, his voice cutting through my denial. “You may not feel it now, but the blood of the Frost Pack runs through your veins. It’s why you’ve always felt out of place, why your dreams have always been of the forest.”

My breath hitched. How could he know about my dreams?

Draven stepped forward then, his voice low and gravelly. “You’ve felt the pull, haven’t you?” he said. “The ache for something more, something wild.”

I took a step back, the intensity of his words throwing me off balance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I muttered, even as the truth of it gnawed at me..

Damien’s expression softened, but only slightly.

“This is a lot to take in,” he said, his tone almost gentle now.

“But your place is with us, Brielle. Come with me, and I’ll make sure your family never has to worry about debt or eviction again.

I’ll heal your mother. All I ask is that you come home. ”

I remained silent, still trying to process all that had been said.

“And if I refuse?” I uttered the words softly.

The gentleness melted away and back was his hard gaze. “Then your mother dies. The choice is yours.”

My heart lurches in my chest.

“Alpha?” My father’s voice said from behind me.

I whipped my head around and found him standing in the middle of the living room. His eye were wide for a moment and then he bowed his head, shocking me into stillness.

“You have returned.”

“I am back for my granddaughter, now.”

What the heck was going on?