Ayla's POV Snow fell in a slow, quiet drift all around me-not in the kind of way that would make it look magical. Just endless and white and cold. It settled over everything-the trees, the ground, and the rooftops-like it was trying to cover things up. Like if it piled high enough, no one would remember what was buried underneath. Like blood had never soaked into the ground beneath my feet. The cold bit through my thin, worn hoodie. I tugged it tighter anyway, more out of habit than hope. It wasn't nearly enough to keep me warm. The cold in me was bone-deep-had been for years. I tried to shake it off and turn my focus to something else. The scent of pine trees filled my nostrils, the air smelling fresh and clean. Woodsmoke drifted from the packhouse, but there was always something lurking just underneath-something sharp, something metallic that reminded me of blood, even when there wasn't any. I stopped at the edge of the road, my gaze drifting towards the packhouse. It glowed ahead-warm, jolly, and inviting. Everything I avoided. A group stood near the entrance, their laughter filling the night air. Real laughter-easy and loud. It hit something in my chest that I didn't have a name for. I couldn't remember if I'd ever laughed that way. I pushed the thought aside quickly. I stepped closer-not urgently. I was always the last to arrive. I kept to the shadows mostly. It was easier that way. My nostrils flared and I froze. Something twisted inside me. The smell hit me all at once, drifting from the packhouse-roasted meat, potatoes, and something sweet underneath it all-cinnamon, maybe pumpkin pie-rich and warm and impossible to ignore. My chest tightened before I could stop it, and a heaviness settled in for just a moment. Christmas. The day I hated most. Not because I never cherished the season-I did, at one time-but because of what it was intended to signify. Family. The word held no meaning for me anymore. I swallowed, trying to shake the feeling, but tears pricked at my eyes anyway. Sadness had a way of finding the cracks no matter how tightly I held everything together. A group brushed past me on their way to the packhouse, shoulders knocking into mine without slowing. One of them clipped me harder than the rest. "Hey, watch it!" he yelled, spinning around. His gaze caught mine and a sneer pulled at his lips. I steadied myself and looked down. It was easier like that-avoid contact, don't look up, keep a low profile. "Don't bother," another boy said. "It's just the mute stray. You won't get anything out of her." They laughed like it cost them nothing. I kept my eyes down and didn't react. I'd learned early that reacting only gave them fuel. I was five when I stopped speaking, as if not speaking meant I didn't feel. I didn't remember deciding to go silent-it just happened. It was as if a switch had been flicked off somewhere deep inside me and never turned back on. What I did remember came in flashes-scattered and brutal and never in the right order. A huge, angry fire consuming everything in its path. The smell of burning fur, blood, and smoke was so thick it stuck in my throat. My mother's hand slipping from mine, slick with blood. Her eyes were losing their light-going dim. My father's voice calling out-and then silence. My body tensed as the memory shifted: a pair of red eyes, fixed on me-watching. I always believed it was rogues who had destroyed my pack. Some days I wasn't so sure. I couldn't remember clearly-it was so long ago, and the rest of that night was tucked away somewhere deep, buried with my voice. I pushed it all down. There was no space for it here. "Hey. Mute." My shoulders tensed before I could stop them. I didn't turn. I didn't need to. I already knew. Their footsteps were slow and deliberate-like they wanted me to hear every single one. The sound vibrated through me. My heart rate climbed until it actually hurt, but I didn't run. Running only worsened it. They would chase me like prey and enjoy every second of it. The air changed as they got closer. It became heavier, dominant, and warmer somehow-but not in any way that helped. The triplets. They always moved together. The three brothers could have been the same person at first glance-same height, same dark hair, same cold blue eyes that seemed to cut right through you. But up close, they were different in ways that mattered. Kael stepped into view first. He didn't rush-he never did. Everything about him felt deliberate, like he'd already decided how the meeting would go before he'd even arrived. His eyes found mine-pale and icy and completely indifferent. Even before the title of Alpha was officially his, it already sat on him like it belonged there. Ryker came up besides him, already smiling like the moment was the best part of his night. For him, it probably was. He'd be Kael's Beta when they took over the pack, and something told me that day couldn't come fast enough for him. Soren lingered just behind-the quiet one, always watching, the soon-to-be delta of the pack. He kept his distance and never directly joined in-not that it helped. His silence was its own kind of pressure. "Well?" Ryker tilted his head slightly, trying to catch my gaze under the hood. A taunting smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Did she go deaf too, or is she just ignoring you?" Before I could shift back, a hand gripped my shoulder and spun me around. My balance slipped, but Kael kept me in place, his grip firm and unyielding. He didn't let go right away. His brows furrowed slightly, like he was searching for something in my face. For a moment he just stared, his body heat filling the space between us even through the cold. It only made me more aware of how frozen I was. "Answer him," Ryker sneered. Then he laughed under his breath. "Right. I forgot." Laughter erupted from somewhere behind them. I didn't look to see who had joined in. I dropped my gaze instead-not because I couldn't face them, but because I refused to give them what they were looking for. "Pathetic," Kael said flatly, and shoved me back into a heap of snow. "Thirteen years and not a word." Ryker shook his head slowly, almost impressed. "Do you even remember how?" "Maybe she never could," someone behind him added. More laughter. It echoed longer than it should have-especially tonight. I didn't react-I hadn't in years. It was easier that way. They'd get bored and leave eventually. They always did. Soren's gaze lingered on me longer than usual-not mocking, but not kind either-like he was working something out. His brows pulled together slightly, and for a moment it looked almost like frustration. Whatever it was, he kept it to himself. He always did. A long, loud howl cut through the night, and everything stilled. Kael's eyes flickered to me. "Don't wander off," he said coolly. "We're not dealing with you tonight." Ryker snorted. "Maybe find yourself somewhere else to stay. This freeloading thing? Yeah. It's over." They turned like I was already gone and didn't matter. Soren hesitated for just a moment, his gaze flickering between me and his brothers. Then he followed without a word. And just like that, it was quiet again. I pushed myself out of the snow and let out a slow breath I hadn't known I was holding. My hands were trembling-not from cold, but from something harder to name. I pressed them against my sides until they stilled. The space around me felt bigger, emptier, and colder now that they were gone. The packhouse still glowed in the distance, full of warmth I wasn't allowed to touch. Laughter drifted out every time someone opened the door-bright and fleeting-before fading again into the night. I stayed where I was. Where I belonged. Outside. Then something shifted. A frown pulled at my brows as my hand pressed against my chest before I even thought about it. It wasn't pain-not exactly. Just an unfamiliar stirring in a place that had been completely still for as long as I could remember. I breathed in slowly. Just nerves, I told myself. But the feeling came again-stronger this time-and I knew. I wasn't imagining it. My wolf had awakened. The packhouse door swung open before I could process it, and gentle eyes found me across the snow. "Ayla," Luna Ria called softly. "Come, dear child. Everyone is waiting." I lifted my gaze to meet hers and gave a small nod before I started moving. But even as I walked towards the warmth and the light, I couldn't shake the feeling pressing against my ribs. Something was about to change tonight-and whatever it was, there was no going back. ****

Ayla's POV Luna Ria disappeared back inside the moment she saw me moving. Someone must have called her-she would have waited otherwise. That was just the kind of woman she was. She and Alpha Jack had taken me in after the fall of my pack, and over the years I had learned to read the small things she did. She always left the kitchen light on. The extra plate at dinner was a detail that nobody commented on. I pushed the thought away and focused on breathing. The closer I got to the packhouse, the harder that became-not because of the cold, but because of the noise. Laughter spilled out into the night, too loud and too effortless. It mixed with music that thumped low and steady underneath everything, like a heartbeat I didn't belong to. It was alive in there. Too alive. I stopped at the door a second longer than I should have. Then I pushed it open. The heat hit me all at once, making my skin sting where the cold had settled too deep. I didn't move right away. I just stood there and let it soak in while everything rushed over me at once-the smells, the sounds, the movement. Too many bodies packed into one space, all of them at ease in a way I had never quite managed. I stepped inside before I could change my mind. The room was perfectly decorated-Luna Ria's doing, without question. Garlands twisted along the ceiling beams, red ribbon threaded through them, and a huge Christmas tree stood tall and bright in the corner, its yellow lights flickering warmly against the dark wood walls. People filled every corner-talking, laughing, and leaning into each other as if it cost them nothing. Like they had never once had to think about whether they were welcome somewhere. I moved to the nearest wall and stayed there. It was easier that way. No one looked my way for long. A few glances came and went quickly, like I was something people sensed without wanting to acknowledge directly. That was fine. I didn't want their attention anyway. My hoodie stood out the moment I stepped in-too thin, too faded against the thick knits and bright colors everyone else wore. I tugged at the sleeve without thinking, fingers twisting the worn fabric. Near the tree, a table was stacked with gifts-bright wrapping paper, shiny bows, and too much color all at once. Kael stood nearby, calling names with the effortless authority of someone who had never doubted that the room was his. People stepped forward laughing before they even opened anything. Someone pulled out a pair of ridiculous socks, and the whole room erupted like it was the funniest thing they had ever seen. I watched from where I stood. I always watched. I never interacted. No one had ever given me anything that was truly mine. "Ayla." My name sounded wrong in a room so loud. Out of place. I didn't move at first. Then I realized everyone was looking. Kael's eyes hardened. "Get a move on," he said sharply. "The rest of us are waiting." "Give it here," Ryker said, already reaching for the gift before Kael could hand it over. I stepped forward slowly, my heart already picking up. Ryker pushed a small box into my hands and leaned in slightly. "Guess someone actually thought of you this year." I ignored him and looked down at what he'd given me. No bright paper. No ribbon. Just a plain brown box with bent corners and cardboard that had gone soft in places from too much handling. I turned it over slowly, running my thumb along the bent edge. Someone had held onto the box for a while before deciding to give it. I opened it. A pair of grey gloves. Simple, plain, nothing remarkable. But thick-the kind that actually kept the cold out. "Probably someone's extras," a voice said from somewhere behind me. A few quiet laughs followed. The laughter was not loud enough to create a scene but enough to get under my skin. I ignored it. Whoever had left this had noticed I didn't have any. That was more than most people had ever bothered to do. I nodded once-habit more than anything-closed the box, and headed back to the wall. Nobody stopped me. They had already moved on to the next name, the next laugh, and the next moment that had nothing to do with me. The air started feeling too tight not long after that, and I drifted toward the door. My hand found the handle. "Ayla." The voice wasn't sharp. It wasn't mocking or unkind. But something about it still made my chest pull tight. I turned slowly. Alpha Jack stood a few steps away, Luna Ria at his side. She wasn't wearing the same smile as everyone else in the room. Hers was quieter-like she understood something the others didn't, like she could feel my grief from where she stood. "Come here, child," she said, extending her hand. "I have something for you." I hesitated for just a moment before I crossed the distance. They guided me gently to the side of the room, where the light was softer and the noise didn't press in quite as hard. Alpha Jack looked at me the way he sometimes did-directly, without looking past me or through me. Like he actually saw me. His blue eyes were kind and hopeful. It was still something I didn't quite know what to do with, but it wasn't uncomfortable in the way I was used to. Luna Ria placed something small in my hands. A box. Wrapped in dark green paper-the color of pine trees in deep winter-with a silver ribbon that caught the light like moonlight on snow. I stared at it for a moment, brows pulling together. "It's for you," Luna Ria said gently. "Go on, open it." I carefully peeled back the paper and lifted the lid. The breath left my body. A silver necklace. Small pendant. Old. I would have known it anywhere. I raised my eyes to Luna Ria's, the silent question lingering between us. She glanced at Alpha Jack. "We found it in what remained of your old pack," he said quietly. "We thought it might bring you some closure." His words didn't land all at once. They sank in slowly, one at a time-and then the room tilted. Alpha Jack's hands found my shoulders, but it was already too late. The images came the way they always came-fast and broken and merciless. Fire. Blood. Red eyes. My mother's voice: 'Don't let them find you...' "Ayla." Luna Ria's voice cut through, pulling me back. "Are you alright?" I blinked hard. The room reassembled itself around me, but it didn't feel steady. My hands were shaking, the necklace trembling between my fingers. I didn't notice the tears until they were already falling. I pressed my lips together and tried to stop them. It didn't work. Alpha Jack guided me gently to a nearby chair. Luna Ria sat close, her hands folding carefully over mine. "Easy," she murmured. "You're hurting. We know that. But we're here-you know that, don't you?" I nodded, even though I wasn't sure what exactly I was agreeing to. I fastened the necklace with clumsy fingers, the metal cold against my collarbone. It warmed quickly-faster than it should have, like it remembered belonging there. Like it had always known it was mine. Alpha Jack's voice came quietly through the noise of the room. "Tonight is your eighteenth birthday." I nodded. He watched me for a moment before continuing. "Are you ready for your first shift?" My wolf stirred at the words-urgent, unmistakable. She was awake. Really awake, for the first time. Fear moved through me first, then something underneath it. Something sharper. Not quite excitement, but close enough to be dangerous. I had always been alone. Tonight wouldn't change that. I lifted my chin and nodded. It was the only answer I had. Luna Ria's expression softened. "You won't be alone anymore. You'll have someone by your side-always." I knew she meant it kindly. But something in my chest tightened anyway-electric, impossible to ignore. It felt as if a door inside me had swung open, one that I hadn't known existed. Something was coming. And it was going to change everything. ****

Ayla's POV Alpha Jack and Luna Ria didn't stand in my way when I turned toward the door a second time. They knew. A silent nod passed between us, and I slipped outside before anyone else could notice I was leaving. The cold hit me immediately-sharper now than before, the kind that settles into your lungs with every breath. My wolf stirred restlessly, urging me forward, and I followed without argument. She knew where we were going before I did. The forest was quiet. Too quiet. My old winter boots crunched into the snow louder than they should have, each step announcing itself to the empty trees. The further I walked, the more the packhouse noise faded behind me-the laughter, the music, the warmth-until there was nothing left but the creak of pine and birch branches heavy with ice and the soft sound of my own breathing clouding in the air. No one was following. No one was coming. I already knew that. I'd known it before I left. Coming-of-age wolves had their first shift in the clearing. The pack was supposed to gather, witness it, and celebrate it. Afterward, there would be a run with the whole pack together beneath the moon. I pushed the thought aside before it could settle. There was no use thinking about things that weren't going to change. At least the snow had stopped. My gaze shifted toward the sky as I walked. The clouds had cleared by the time I reached the edge of the clearing, pulling back to reveal a deep, star-scattered sky. The moon hung full and bright above me, its light spilling into the open space ahead and making the untouched snow glow faintly at the edges. I stopped and stood there for a moment, fingers closing around the pendant at my throat. Cold metal. Solid. Real. I held onto it a little longer than I needed to. Then I let go. I stepped into the center of the clearing. The cold bit into my skin the moment my clothes hit the ground-sharp, immediate, unforgiving. I barely felt it. My wolf was pushing hard now, urgent in a way that left no room for hesitation. I closed my eyes. For a moment, nothing happened. Then it hit. No warning. No build-up. Just pain-tearing through me like a hot blade dragged slowly through everything at once. My knees buckled, and I went down hard into the snow. My body locked, then jerked violently, bones cracking and shifting in ways that made my stomach turn. The sound echoed around the empty clearing, too loud, too wrong. My fingers dug into the snow. My spine snapped back. What little air I had left was stolen clean from my lungs. Heat followed the pain-flooding through my veins, burning under my skin, and spreading through my chest and down every limb until I couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. It kept going. Too long. Too much. Goddess, will it ever end- Then something changed. The pain didn't stop. It shifted, stretched, then sharpened into something else entirely. Power. Surging upward through the burning sensation, it felt sudden, overwhelming, and unmistakable. My senses cracked open all at once. The earth beneath the snow. A small heartbeat somewhere deep in the trees. The cold air was suddenly carrying a dozen things I couldn't have named an hour ago. I opened my eyes. The world was sharper. Edges cleaner. Everything was brighter in a way that felt more right than anything I had ever seen before. I shifted my weight and stopped. Four paws in the snow. I tested it without thinking, and something in me recognized it before my mind caught up. It felt like remembering something I had never actually been taught. I looked down. White fur. Pure and bright, catching the moonlight and holding it. "Well," a voice said, dry and thoroughly unimpressed. "At least we didn't come out disappointing." I went completely still. "Wait-what?" I thought. "Oh good, you heard that," she said, and paused. "I was about to start judging you out loud." My ears flicked forward. "You're... you're my wolf?" I asked, still trying to catch up. "Yes," she said flatly. "Congratulations. Took you long enough to notice." I inhaled slowly, trying to settle the rush of everything happening at once. I hadn't expected my wolf to be verbal. Was that even normal? "It is," she said, unimpressed. "How else do you think we communicate with our human?" I ignored her, trying to understand what I was feeling. "What's your name?" I asked. There was a pause that suggested she was deeply reconsidering her situation. "Seriously," she started. "Did the Moon Goddess pair me with-" A name surfaced from somewhere I couldn't explain. "Tala," I said quietly. Silence. "...Mm." Almost satisfied. "That works. At least you didn't say Shadowfang. That would have started things off badly." The air shifted. My body reacted before my mind did-ears snapping forward, muscles pulling tight, every instinct going still and alert at once. My gaze moved to the tree line. Something stood there. Not moving. Not shifting weight. Not breathing visibly-and at this temperature, in this cold, everything breathed visibly. It just stood at the edge of the clearing, completely still, entirely focused. On us. A shiver rolled down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold. "That's not-" I started. "Normal?" Tala said, her voice lower now. "No. It isn't." We watched it. It watched us back. That cold feeling in my chest wasn't new. I had felt it before-thirteen years ago, at the edges of smoke and fire and a pair of red eyes that had watched me the same way. With the same patience. The same certainty. "It sees us," I said. "Yes," Tala replied. The sharpness had gone out of her voice entirely. I blinked. The figure was gone. No movement. No sound. No footprints disturbed the snow at the tree line. Just-gone, as if it had never been there at all. I stretched my senses outward, searching for a scent, a sound, or any trace at all. Nothing. "That's worse," Tala said quietly. My chest tightened. "What was it?" "I don't know," she said. "And I don't like not knowing." That landed heavier than anything else she could have said. "It wasn't afraid of us," I said. "No," she agreed. "Definitely not." The certainty of it settled over me, cold and solid. Whatever that was, it hadn't stumbled across me by accident. It knew I would be here tonight. It had come to see me shift. And it would come back. "We should go," I said. "Look at you," Tala said, a dry edge returning to her voice. "Making decisions. I was starting to wonder." I turned toward the packhouse, its light barely a glow through the trees now. I gathered my clothes and ran-snow kicking up beneath my paws, the forest blurring past, my body moving faster and more easily than it ever had before. But the feeling didn't fade with the distance. It sharpened. "It chose us," I said. "Specifically. It was waiting." Tala was quiet for a long moment. Then-nothing. No sarcastic comeback. No dry observation. Just silence, sitting heavily between us as the packhouse lights grew closer through the trees. And somehow, that was the most frightening thing of all. ****