Chapter 1: Wildflowers and Wolves

(Ella’s POV)  

Sweat's dripping down my face, plastering my hair to my forehead, sticky and gross, but I can't wipe this dumb grin off me. Marcus James Carver, pack beta, big guy who pretty much raised me, is running me through self-defense again, like always. His dark hair's a wild mess from us tussling, sticking up everywhere, and those gray eyes of his are locked on me, steady as a rock. I don't have a wolf but he's never made me feel like I'm less for it, not once.

"Eyes on me, Ella, gotta move quicker, cub."

I nod, swiping sweat off my cheek with the back of my hand, smearing dirt probably. "I'm trying, Marcus, I swear I am."

He steps in fast, fakes a swing at me, fist cutting the air. I duck, quicker this time, grab his arm, twist it like he's drilled into me a hundred times. 

"Good job, cub, you're tougher than you think you are."

I grin so hard my face hurts, cheeks aching. "Thanks, Marcus."

We start trudging back to the pack house, boots snapping twigs, kicking up damp leaves that stick to my laces. I catch sight of some wildflowers off the path. I crouch down quick, snatch a handful, roots and all, and shove them at Marcus, dirt crumbling off my fingers.

"For you," I say, still grinning like a total goof.

He takes them with that big, careful hand, shakes his head slow. "Found you with that pendant, cub, like you were meant for something big. You and your flowers, Ella."

"They make me happy," I say, shrugging. "And you deserve them, you know."

He doesn't say much back, just gives me that small, quiet smile of his. That's enough, it always is with him.

My erratic burst of thoughts vanishing into silence the moment I set foot inside the big pack house. The air grew heavy and thick, as if the spirit were waiting for its chance to grip my throat from the corner. Lena was in the kitchen, arms crossed, lips pressed together, as if masticating on a prolonged lecture for hours. She fixed her eyes on me, and that scowl of hers cut in even deeper. 

"Look at you," she spat, her words crackling like the whip that they were. "You are dragging mud across my floor. You aren't worth a wolf's ounce, Ella; you remain a charity case. Never forget that." 

The scalding remark burned like fire, like a fist tip under my ribs, but I forced it down and said in a steady tone, "I apologize, Lena. I'll clean it up now."

Before I can even grab a rag, Sasha Lynn Carver strolls in. Nineteen, a year older than me, blonde hair yanked back tight, green eyes slicing through me like glass. She clocks my muddy boots, the dirt smears on my jeans, and smirks, all smug. "Seriously, Ella? You're a walking disaster. Can't you at least try to look half-decent?"

My cheeks flare up, burning, but I force a smile, tight and fake. "I'll change in a sec, okay?"

Marcus steps up beside me, voice low and solid like a wall. "That's enough. She's been training, not sitting around. Lay off her, both of you."

Lena huffs, loud, and turns back to the stove, banging at the pot like it's personal. Sasha rolls her eyes but shuts her mouth, thank God. I jump in quick, trying to smooth it over. "I can help with dinner," I say. "Chop some veggies or whatever?"

Lena flicks her hand at me like I'm a fly buzzing too close. "No need. Just don't make more mess for me to deal with."

"Okay," I mumble, barely audible, then bolt upstairs to my room. Lena and Sasha, they've never liked me, not since I can remember. Been with the pack since I was a baby, this human they took in out of pity or whatever, but to them, I'm just a leech, a dead weight dragging them down. I'm used to it, mostly. Marcus being kind, treating me like I belong, it's what keeps me from falling apart. I wasn't going to let their sniping remarks wreck my day, not after that moment with him in the woods.

Later, I wander down to the common area, hunting for my people. Mia Rose Holloway's sprawled on a couch, legs kicked out long, all lean and quick with her dark hair in a sloppy ponytail that's half-falling out. Jasper Lee Bennett's parked on the floor, gray eyes glued to his phone until he spots me and looks up.

"Hey, Ella!" Mia hollers, popping up like a spring. "You made it!"

I flop next to her, managing a real smile this time. "Yeah, finally scrubbed up and free from the mud police."

Jasper shoves his shaggy brown hair back, grinning a little. "Big day tomorrow, huh? Eighteen."

"Yeah," I say, stomach flipping, nervous and weird. "Can't believe it's here already."

Mia elbows me, grinning big. "It's a huge deal in the pack, you know that, right? The whole eighteenth birthday thing, wolves and all."

I nod, but my smile slips, just a bit. "I know. Wolves get stronger, maybe find their mates, all that. But I'm human, so… probably just another day for me, right?"

"Don't talk like that," Mia says, firm, leaning in. "It's still your day, wolf or not. Marcus is even throwing you a party."

Jasper nods, tossing his phone aside. "Yeah, he's been yapping about it all week. It's gonna be a good time, trust me."

"Really?" I say, a little spark flaring up in my chest, warm. "That's… that's sweet of him."

"Duh," Mia says, rolling her eyes like it's obvious. "You're one of us, Ella. Wolf or no wolf."

That hits me hard, right in the chest, soft and warm, like I've been waiting forever to hear it without knowing. We keep talking, about the party, what I might wear, how Jasper's definitely sneaking extra cake because he's a pig like that. Mia's laugh booms out, loud and bright, and Jasper pokes at her about hogging the food, smirking. For a while, Lena and Sasha fade out of my head, their sharp edges dulled. With Mia and Jasper, I don't feel so off-balance, so out of place.

When the sun starts dipping, painting the windows orange, I head back to my room. I dig my notebook out from under my pillow, beat-up thing, corners bent, and flip it open. Pencil scratches away as I sketch those wildflowers from earlier, their soft petals, the punch of yellow and purple against the green. Drawing always settles me, quiets the buzz in my head, makes it easier to think.

While I shade the leaves, my mind wanders to the pack. Been here my whole life, surrounded by wolves who can outrun me, outfight me, hear stuff I'll never pick up. Lena and Sasha, they see me as weak, some outsider they're forced to drag along. But Marcus doesn't. Mia and Jasper don't either. Maybe that means I fit, even just a little, even without claws or fangs.

I keep sketching, imagining a day when I don't feel like I've got to prove I belong. A day when the pack looks at me and sees more than some human charity case. Tomorrow's my eighteenth. I won't get a wolf, won't change what I am, but maybe, just maybe, it could still mean something.