Caution

Talia's POV

“Yes, Alpha?” I say, trying to sound brave, but deep down I'm scared to the bone.

He comes closer, his presence filling the space in a way that makes it difficult to breathe. His eyes narrow as he looks me up and down, taking in every detail like he’s judging more than just my appearance. “I've noticed your appearance, Talia. The way you dress is not appropriate for someone in our pack, especially not with the gathering tonight.” He says with a menacing tone.

My throat tightens, and I swallow hard after hearing those words. Of course, it’s about how I look. It’s always about that. It has always been everyone’s concern, even when they pretend it isn’t.

“The dignitaries from the neighboring packs will be there,” he continues, his tone firm and unkind, leaving no space for argument. “We can't afford any embarrassment, Talia. You need to control yourself, understand? Dress properly and eat with restraint. Don’t draw any unwanted attention to yourself. And most importantly, don't disgrace me in any form.”

His words land harder than they should. If he had hit me with a baton, I think it would hurt less than this. I already know the pack doesn’t think much of me, but hearing it directly from the Alpha himself stings more than I expect. It carries more weight, more finality.

I grip the edge of my plate, my knuckles turning white as I hold on tighter than necessary.

“I… I understand,” I manage to say. The words feel heavy and bitter in my mouth.

Alpha Bran gives a short nod, clearly satisfied with my response. “Good. Make sure you're ready by tonight. We all need to put in our best to make this day memorable. The reputation of this pack reflects on all of us.”

On all of us? Even me?

With that, he turns and leaves as quickly as he arrives. There is nothing more to say. Nothing more worth his time. The door closes behind him with a soft click, but the sound echoes louder than it should.

A shiver runs through me.

Silence settles over the room, thick and uncomfortable. I stand still for a few seconds, the plate still in my hands, my thoughts slow to catch up with what just happened.

My parents don’t speak, but I can feel their eyes on me. Their concern is clear, written all over their faces even though they try not to show too much. In a pack where hierarchy matters, they know there are limits to what they can say when the Alpha speaks. He's the Alpha. Whatever he says is final.

Finally, I let out a breath I don’t realize I’m holding and place the plate on the counter. My senses are coming back to functionality.

“I'll be upstairs,” I mutter.

I don’t wait for a response. I already know they won’t say a word.

The wooden stairs groan with each step I take, the sound breaking the silence that lingered in the house. When I reach my room and close the door behind me, I catch sight of myself in the mirror again.

My reflection looks the same as always.

Nothing has changed.

I stare at myself for a moment longer, thinking about his words. About what he expects. About what the pack expects.

I don’t know how I’m supposed to make myself “proper” in just a few hours. I don’t even know what that really means for someone like me.

But I know one thing.

I can’t let them see how much their words affect me. I won’t give them the satisfaction of seeing me break.

The gathering is this evening, and I remember I still need to get groceries. I was supposed to go earlier, before Alpha Bran’s interruption. Mom doesn’t mention it, probably because she thinks I need space after what just happened.

Aside from eating, buying groceries is another thing I can do without thinking too much. Another thing I don’t get wrong.

I head back downstairs, grab a grocery bag, and walk toward the sitting room.

“I'll get the groceries now,” I say with a sigh of frustration.

My parents are seated quietly, the earlier tension lingering in the air. They both look up at me, and for a moment, I can tell they want to say something. Maybe to comfort me. Perhaps to apologize for something that isn’t their fault.

But they don’t.

They just nod.

I step outside before the silence stretches too long.

As I walk through the familiar paths that lead to the grocery shop, the sounds and smells of daily life greet me. Wolves move around in small groups, preparing for the day, talking, and laughing. Everything looks normal.

Like I haven’t just been reminded of my place.

I pull my hoodie tighter around myself, as if the fabric can shield me from the looks I know are coming. It never really works, but I do it anyway.

I slow my steps slightly as I move deeper into the territory.

The first group of bullies I pass barely notices me. They are too busy talking among themselves, their focus completely elsewhere. For a moment, I feel relieved. Being ignored is easier.

But it doesn’t last.

As I go further, the looks begin.

They come in small ways at first—quick glances, nudges, whispers that start low and suddenly stop when I get too close. Then they resume the moment I pass.

It’s a pattern I know too well.

A group of young wolves, probably in their teens, stands near the training grounds. The space is usually reserved for those being groomed into warriors, wolves with strength and promise. I don’t belong anywhere near there, but the path takes me past it anyway.

They notice me immediately.

Their eyes follow me as I get closer, filled with amusement, like I’m something to be observed rather than someone who belongs here.

“Hey, Talia!” one of them calls out, his tone mocking. “How’s it going? Had a big breakfast today, huh?”

The others snicker, tapping each other like he’s said something impressive.

I force a smile and respond the only way I know how.

“Yep, can’t start the day without my ten stacks of pancakes,” I say, patting my stomach lightly. “You know I have to keep these curves in shape.”

They burst into laughter.

I can't wait to hear more. I keep walking, my steps a little faster now, putting distance between me and their voices.

But the sound follows me anyway.

Their laughter sticks, replaying in my head long after I’ve left them behind. My chest feels tight, like something is pressing down on it.

No matter how much I try to ignore it, their words always find a way in.

I keep walking until the noise of the pack fades, until the voices become distant.

I head toward the edge of the territory, where the trees grow thicker and the air feels quieter. It’s a place I’ve come to know well. A small space where I can be alone without feeling watched.

When I reach it, I let out a long breath.

I lean against a tree and slowly slide down until I’m sitting on the ground. The air here is cool and calm.

For once, I don’t have to pretend.

My hands tremble slightly as I run them through my hair. I close my eyes, trying to block out the faces, the laughter, and the words.

But they linger.

I open my eyes and stare ahead, the silence pressing in around me.

I’m lonely.

I know it, even if I try not to admit it most of the time. I’m an outcast in my home, a wolfless girl in a pack of slim-fitted girls.

And no matter how hard I try to fit in, it never feels like enough.

I pick up a small rock from the ground and turn it over in my hand, my gaze fixed on the trees ahead.

The feeling doesn’t go away.

It never does.