Page 7 of Violet Moon (Pitch Mountain Pack #1)

Parisa glanced at Sera to her right, Wilma to her left, and reached for her wine glass, filled with one of her favorite reds, and raised it in a toast. There were whispers as the other wolves did the same.

“I’d like to present to you all our new pack Gamma, with all her strength, creativity, and stellar character, our dearest Wilma.”

The others raised their glasses, but Jo leapt out of their seat and threw their arms around Wilma’s shoulders before pulling back, confused. “Wait, what’s that mean?”

A chorus of laughter rang out across the table. “It means she’s pack leadership now,” Olive explained, beaming from beneath a crown of bright red hair, freckles dotting her cheeks. “And a wonderful choice.”

Benjamin, or Benny, one of the youngest wolves, jumped up from his seat. “This is huge! Congrats, Wil!”

Jo hugged Wil tighter, still squealing with delight until they locked eyes with Parisa. They slid back into their chair and looked down at their hands, a blush spreading across their cheeks.

“So you’re like a Beta now?” Jo asked under their breath, but in a house full of wolves few things went unheard.

“Oh goodness no,” Wilma replied with a laugh. “Not even close.”

“I wouldn't say that.” Sera set her forearms on the table and leaned forward with a soft smile. “I’d say you’re pretty close to me now. And rightfully so.”

‘This is so exciting!” Diah clapped her hands. “You already do so much and now it’s super official.”

Similar sentiments were echoed by all of their packmates.

Edgar leaned forward. “This might still be somewhat new to me and I might not understand the significance of everything, but I can recognize greatness in my students and I can see it in you, too, Wil.”

“Well now I’m feeling a bit choked up,” Sera admitted. Hearing everyone say things about Wilma and their years together in the pack made her remember all of those little moments that time had pushed to the back of her mind.

When Wilma joined the pack several years after Sera, she couldn’t understand Wilma’s decision to turn.

Enough time had passed by then that Sera had begun to accept what had happened to her and even learned to embrace the wolf after it was tamed, but she couldn’t understand giving up a human existence for this.

Yet, here was this person, full of energy and life, not even thirty, and she knew exactly what she wanted.

For years, too, Wilma kept mostly to herself.

She needed her time alone more than anything.

They were friendly with one another, but there’d been a disconnect between Wilma and herself.

But as the pack grew, Sera recognized that the only disconnect was on her end, on not understanding the ways Wilma shared herself with the world, especially through her art.

“I’m just so proud of you,” Sera added.

“Not much else to say.” Parisa gazed at Wilma, eyes a bit glassy.

“Nothing more perfect than what you all have said, but I’ll try anyway.

You’ve been with us for decades and I’ve gotten to watch you grow and change — oh my, I sound like someone’s mother.

” Parisa laughed. “But I do sort of feel that way. When you came to us you were so self-assured and ready and none of that has ever changed. You tackle everything with a confident, matter-of-fact nature that’s served you well and yet your art is so inspired and shows the creative soul that lies just beneath that sometimes steely exterior.

You’re truly a wonder.” She raised her glass again. “To Wilma, our Gamma.”

The lively atmosphere returned in an instant as people clinked glasses and conversation struck up again with new energy. Across the table from Sera, Wilma took it all in. She was silent, which wasn’t rare for her, but the dumbstruck expression was.

Maybe having mixed feelings about this change wasn’t strange after all. Wilma was experiencing something similar. Or maybe Sera was telling herself this to get rid of the twisted up, guilty feeling in her stomach because she couldn’t just be happy about the whole thing like she wanted to be.

She turned to find Parisa focused on her with an unreadable look on her face. She stared in a way that made a shiver run down Sera’s back.

“Everything alright?” Sera reached for her glass with a shaky hand.

“Fine. Just a mind full of thoughts. What else is new?”

“Good thoughts, I hope.”

“Oh, always a mixed bag.” Parisa wrapped her fingers around her glass and took a long sip of wine.

“Wait, wait, wait, why can’t a pack have two Alphas?

” Jo’s voice dropped the moment they realized they’d caught the attention of everyone at the table, including Sera and Parisa.

They ducked their head in a quick nod at the both of them.

“I was just wondering about all the Jason stuff. Why’s it such a big deal? Can a pack not have two?”

Wilma was the first to answer. “They can. The younger Alpha has to accept the authority of the other, or I suppose in some cases the other way around, and they can co-lead the pack with any disagreements being sorted by going to the Alpha the other submitted to. The Yadkin Falls pack has two Alphas.”

“But usually they form their own pack amicably, which is why we have so many smaller packs nowadays,” Sera said.

“It’s so different from how things used to be.

In the past, the two Alphas fought, the winner won the pack, and the other Alpha was killed,” she said the last part in a hushed tone.

“Now the losing Alpha is stripped of their power and their pack.”

“They’d really abandon their Alpha?” Jo’s expression was incredulous.

“There’s more to an Alpha than just leading the pack.

There’s changes we can’t really understand that take place, and when an Alpha loses them, the ties that bind the pack weaken, too.

The pack as a whole grows weaker. They also lose their grip on their wolf and may fail to tame the Alpha wolf inside. ”

“Have you ever had anyone challenge you?” Jo blurted in Parisa’s direction.

Wilma elbowed them hard in the side. Jo slumped in their chair, but kept their eyes on Parisa.

“Yes.” Parisa stared forward, not making eye contact with anyone. Silence gripped the table until she spoke again. “Alright, back to happier topics, shall we? It’s Wilma’s night! Wil, dear, what would you like to do to celebrate tonight?”

Wilma waved her hands in front of her. “Nothing, really. Honestly, a dinner is enough. Just having everyone together is nice.”

“We should go out!” Lock shouted.

Jo rolled their eyes. “Wil would hate that.”

“We should stay in!” he said with the same enthusiasm. “Seriously, what would be fun?”

Wilma shrugged. “Doing nothing is fine. I don’t much like being the center of attention.”

“Then let’s make something together,” Jo suggested.

Wilma’s smile broadened, fondness in her gaze as she looked around the table at her pack. “We could maybe do something with clay? I have more than enough left over.”

The pack took off in another round of too-loud, overlapping conversations. The remnants of dinner were forgotten as they formed plans. The noise followed the pack out of the dining room as they left to go celebrate Wil, leaving just Sera and Parisa back at the table.

“At least they remembered to grab their dishes first.” Sera leaned back against her chair.

“I’d expect nothing less from our pack.” Parisa waited until she had Sera’s attention to continue. “They carry our name well. All of them.” She stood. “Everyone does their part to put the pack before all else and it shows. No matter what, the pack comes first.”

“Of course it does.”

Parisa stared off in the distance and continued to have a conversation with herself. “If one of us wasn’t here or at our best, if someone was missing, the others would pick up the slack and the pack would carry on.”

“We could never carry on seamlessly if someone was missing. Every single one of us matters.”

“That’s not what I meant!”

Sera flinched.

“I mean that no matter what happens, this pack will endure.” With that, Parisa walked out of the room.

Sera stared at her empty plate. What was Parisa talking about? Were they not all essential to this pack, this family? Who wasn’t at their best?

Herself. Sera had no idea what her best was.

She tried, but there were more times than not where Wilma stepped in to do something Sera had forgotten or Parisa had to remind her to do one of her tasks.

She handled a lot but she always felt like she could be good at one of three things: she could be a good friend to Parisa, she could run the business well, or she could be a big sister to the pack, but never all three at once.

If she got too friendly with the pack, the Beta and business side of her suffered.

If she spent all her time at the bakery, her relationships suffered.

It was a game, and not one she ever felt like she was winning.

Sera huffed out a laugh alone in the big room. She was vain, too, for thinking Parisa meant her when it could have been anything. She wasn’t on Parisa’s mind twenty-four hours a day and she’d do well to remember that.