Forsaken Mate

I smelled him coming a mile away.

My father only ever comes to see me when he reeks of cheap whiskey and rage. He needs a target to attack and someone to blame for all the various misfortunes of his life. I'm guilty of only having been born to the bitter tyrant.

I press my face against the dingy wallpaper inside my run-down trailer tucked away in a corner. My heart pounds with an all too familiar dread, despite having endured this scene many times in my life. It's all burned into my body, like muscle memory.

The sound of his heavy footsteps echoes outside with the uneven crunch of gravel under Deadrick Pride's stumbling gait. He's here for me, fueled by the liquor that consumes his inhibitions and ignites his rage.

The trailer, my paper-thin sanctuary, closes in around me. Its walls, worn and rusted, bear the scars of countless altercations. The only physical evidence remaining of the many wounds inflicted by my father, my family, my pack. The half-broken windows allow slivers of moonlight to slice through the darkness, casting an eerie shadow on the threadbare carpet.

His silhouette passes by outside.

Slowing my breathing, I make myself still as my father's slurred curses grow louder, his voice a sour melody piercing the night. He's so close his scent chokes me, and I fight to stay silent. If he thinks I'm out on rounds, I may just avoid a fight tonight. Otherwise, it's Plan B.

Sad to think I have to have options to avoid being beaten by my father at my grown age of 24. Even sadder to realize I'm only a target because my mother isn't here to take the brunt of his attacks.

Is it sad, though? When I think about it, she's the reason I'm sitting here in this rusting, metal sanctuary in the middle of nowhere.

"You fuckin' bitch!" His shout reverberates throughout my trailer, vibrating in the wall behind my back. It's like he's there behind me, cursing in my ear. "I know you're in there. You're always in there. Useless fucking thing. I bet you're already planning on how to kill me. Just like your traitor bitch of a mother."

Yes, that's right. It's her fault that this is my life. All his drunken tirades serve as a reminder of my mother's crime, a weight I'm forced to carry like a curse on my shoulders.

His fists pound against the flimsy metal door, shaking the entire building. The big bad Beta is here to blow my house down all around me.

"Open this damn door!"

Not on your life, old man. Looks like I'm going with Plan B.

I gather myself up and slowly, quietly slide the back window in my bedroom open. Just as Deadrick Pride's voice reaches a crescendo, a mix of anger and self-pity, I seize my chance. The front door buckles under his fists, and I throw my leg out the window, slipping into the night like a phantom.

The cool breeze kisses my tawny skin, soothing my worries, doubts, and fears. Out in these woods, I am not Makayla Pride. Here, I am simply free.

The woods embrace me, ancient branches looming overhead like guardians, and I move with stealth. Each step guides me along the familiar paths. Goddess, how many times have I escaped down this unmarked trail? How many drunken beatings did it take for me to carve this escape route?

I shake my head, trying to clear those thoughts.

"You're safe here, Makayla." Milla, my wolf, rises to the surface and comforts me as she's done since we connected on my seventeenth birthday.

She's quiet most of the time, but I always feel her close. Like she has something important to say but doesn't possess the words. Still and quiet, but waiting.

My legs carry me on the winding trail. Every rustle of leaves, every distant call of a night creature, is a friend in this comfortable darkness.

Despite the pain and isolation I've faced in River Crest, I am a creature of these woods, fully at peace within them. I feel the Moon Goddess has looked at me in pity, so I became a child of this land and the moon.

Here, I am not simply the unwanted daughter of Deadrick Pride and the Alpha Killer. I am myself. Untainted and unburdened. The deeper I go into the forest, the more I feel like a whole being, capable of shedding the past and the shackles of my mother's sins.

I can still hear my father's bitter voice echoing in the distance, a cruel reminder of the reality I'm desperate to escape. For now, I am free from insults and memories of my mother's fate.

"It's bittersweet, isn't it?" Milla asks. I feel her pacing within me.

"It is," I reply in my mind.

Freedom like this is hard won in my life, but I'm still not truly free. These woods may be my refuge, but it is still River Crest territory. And any wolf of River Crest has full authority to torment me, even here. I can't help wanting a life beyond all this. Beyond River Crest.

But that's greedy. Too greedy, Makayla. I can't let the fresh air get to me.

This life is as close as I'll ever come to true freedom. I pray that my existence on the outskirts of the pack, serving as a solitary guard, goes uninterrupted, save for the occasional night of drunken outbursts and violence from my father.

Who am I to want a connection that transcends the pain of my past?

Do I deserve that?

"Of course, you do. Don't let their words get to you, Kay." Milla's soothing voice fills my mind and pushes those doubts away just as my destination comes into view.

I stop at the mouth of a small clearing in the woods, as I always do when I visit her.

"Hi, mom."

It takes a second before I can urge myself forward and approach my mother's grave, a little haven marked by a makeshift cross I fashioned. No one else in River Crest cared enough to even bother marking the spot where they dumped her after she died having me.

I only found it because of Deadrick. One of his drunken fits. He dragged me here, throwing me in the dirt and demanding I dig and join her. I was only seven at the time. An eternity ago and still fresh in my mind.

I rest against the grassy mound of earth that holds her remains, battling myself. I hate her. I miss her. How does that work? I never even met her, but here I sit, filled with a tangle of anger, regret, and longing. She ruined my life before I was even born, and all I want is to nestle into her lap and let her stroke my hair and tell me everything will be alright in the end.

My mother, Nemora. Branded a traitor who escaped her previous pack after killing her alpha, she died and cast a shadow over my entire existence. No one in River Crest knows why she did it or how she did it. It's a puzzle with too many pieces and questions. But as I sit by her grave, I only have one.

"Why did you leave me?" I whisper.

The moonlight casts a pale glow over the cross, and a pang aches in my chest. I trace the rough lines of the cross with my fingers.

I remember the callouses I got from cutting the wood and carving her name into it. The blood that stained the grain when I got a splinter and scratched myself on a nail. Even then, it felt like she was working against me.

Like I couldn't escape her curse even after her death.

Anger burns in my stomach. How dare she leave me with that monster and abandon me to suffer for her actions? Why have me at all?!

I sink into the ground and rest my cheek on the earth that holds her, stifling a sob. The only reason anything has grown on her mound is because of all the tears I've used to water the soil. Enough to drown out the worms and maggots below. Enough to flood the entirety of the River Crest pack's territory. Too many tears.

My thoughts become fuzzy as I start dozing off. The anger and hurt I've been carrying mix with fatigue, wrapping around me like a heavy blanket. I shut my eyes, and the rustling leaves and nighttime whispers turn into this weird kind of lullaby, pulling me into a restless slumber.

Sleep grabs hold of me, and suddenly, it's like my mind is a battleground where dreams and memories collide. Anger stains every thought, every flash of memory.

Beatings, taunting, gritting my teeth, and bearing all the humiliation and pain that came from this invisible brand on my skin. The other children teasing and tormenting me at school, the lack of support and protection at home. And when I came of age and looked more like her, the hits and kicks and empty whiskey bottles to my back.

In the middle of all this chaos, there's this weird sense of calm. It's a kind of peace I've never felt before, this feeling of safety even in my sleep.

And you know what's messed up?

It makes me even angrier than before.

How dare I find some sort of comfort here, leaning against her grave? Why couldn't she have been here for me when it mattered? Would things have been any different if she'd been the mom I needed or if I could've found that comfort in her arms?

All these emotions, this ache for a love I never got, it's all tangled up inside me.

Time doesn't mean much in that dream haze. I'm in this weird bubble of calm; the moon's some distant thing in the sky. Then, out of nowhere, reality comes crashing back.

Standing in front of me is the living nightmare himself, Wesley Wrest, future Alpha of River Crest. Blond hair wild, like he just stepped out of a shampoo commercial. Those brown eyes locked on me with that familiar, wild, sadistic glint.

His smirk's twisted as if he's laughing at some messed-up inside joke only he's in on. The ache from his kick still throbs.

I try to shake off the sleep, the pain, and the embarrassment and fail miserably.

"Just when I was getting bored, the Moon Goddess delivers me a gift." His smile deepens, and the pain in my stomach twists in disgust.

"Let's have some fun."