#2: Your Last Hope

Our kitchen smells of roast chicken from yesterday, but today it has the distinct, heavy odor of a wake.

I’m sitting at the island, tracing the wood with my thumb, while the three of them hover around me like a council of well-meaning ghosts. The bright, festive energy of Moonlit Square might as well be on another planet. Here, the silence is thick enough to choke on.

My father is staring out the window, his jaw clenching so hard I can practically hear his teeth grinding. My mother is mechanically folding and unfolding a single dish towel over and over with red-rimmed eyes and tracking every breath I take.

The sharp, demanding ring of the landline on the wall cuts through the tension and everyone flinches. For a second, no one moves, as if the plastic phone is a live explosive device.

Mom swallows hard, wiping her cheek with the dish towel before stepping over to lift the receiver. “Thornwood residence.”

She listens for a fraction of a second then her eyes dart toward me, filled with a sudden panic.

“Yes, Alpha. Right away. I’ll send her.” She clicks the phone back into the cradle, her hand trembling slightly as she turns to face the room.

“He wants to see you,” she says, her voice barely a whisper, “at his cottage right away.”

Freya immediately straightens up. “I’m coming with you. He shouldn’t be cornering you alone after what happened in the square.”

“No,” I say, standing up from the stool and smoothing down the front of my dark coat. My heart is currently trying to hammer its way out of my ribs, but I force my voice to remain perfectly level. “He called for me, not the Beta scouting core. Piling into his living room like a defensive entourage isn’t going to make me look any more capable.”

“Leia, please,” Dad says, stepping forward. His eyes are full of a desperate, pleading look. “Just listen to what he has to say. And don’t let your temper get the better of you. He is still your Alpha.”

“I know who he is, Dad,” I say, pulling my coat tighter around my waist. “I’ll see you guys in a bit.”

The walk through the village is the longest five minutes of my life, keeping my head down while I walk. The last thing I need right now is pity. Or worse, sympathy. A few wolves glance at me as I pass. Some look uncomfortable, some look guilty, one woman actually smiles sadly at me. I nearly walk into a tree from sheer annoyance.

Please stop looking at me like I’m a dying Victorian child.

I make my way to the far northern edge of the village, to where  Alpha Thorne’s cottage sits secluded from the rest. I walk up the wooden steps, my boots sounding loud against the planks, and knock firmly on his heavy oak door.

The silence stretches for a long, torturous moment as part of me clings stupidly to hope. Maybe this won’t be as bad as I think. Maybe he has some training position for me. Maybe Harlan agreed to take me as an apprentice.

Maybe–

The latch clicks and the door swings open, and Alpha Thorne is standing in the frame. He is back in his human form, wearing a heavy wool sweater and dark trousers, but his gray eyes still carry that crushing, inescapable dominance that makes me want to drop my gaze.

He steps aside, gesturing into the warmth of the house. “Come in.”

“Alpha,” I murmur, stepping past him into the entryway.

The cottage is old-fashioned and meticulously clean, smelling of dark cedar, leather, and the faint, sweet aroma of pipe tobacco. A massive stone fireplace dominates the living room, the logs inside crackling and sending a warm, orange glow across the polished hardwood floors. 

It feels safe here. Which is unfortunate considering my impending doom.

Thorne walks over to the hearth, picking up a heavy iron poker to stoke the flames and leaving me standing nervously beside the large leather couch.

“Sit,” he says without turning around.

I sit on the edge of the cushions, my hands clasped tightly in my lap to keep them from shaking. I watch as he works the fire, wishing with every fiber of my being that he would just deliver the blow instead of dragging it out. The suspense is far worse than whatever execution sentence he’s preparing.

Finally, he sets the iron poker back in its stand and turns around, leaning his hip against the stone mantelpiece. “No one chose you today.”

I fold my arms tightly. “Thanks for the update.”

He fixes me with a hard, cold glare.

“Sorry,” I say quickly. “Humor is all that stands between me and emotional collapse.”

He studies me for a moment before sitting across from me in one of the armchairs.

“Nobody chose you today,” he repeats in a flat tone, stripped of any cruelty but entirely devoid of comfort. “And we both know why.”

“Because my sparkling personality is an acquired taste?” I offer, forcing a sharp, sarcastic little edge into my voice because the alternative is letting my jaw tremble. 

“That’s enough, Leia!” Thorne barks, his voice dropping into that heavy, authoritative register that brooks no argument. “The time for jokes ended when the sun set yesterday. The Reapers took another scouting outpost on the northern ridge three hours ago. We lost two young Omegas before the patrol could even sound the horn. The pressure on this pack is rising every single hour, and I cannot afford a single vulnerability within these boundaries.”

The mention of the lost scouts hits me, and suddenly my personal humiliation feels entirely small compared to what’s at stake.

“Normally,” he continues, “wolves without mates can still remain valuable through combat, healing, scouting, governance, or training. Sam Mears has Healer Harlan’s sponsorship, your sister proved herself through the battlegrounds. Others contribute in different ways.”

“And I don’t,” I finish quietly.

His silence confirms it.

Something inside me starts cracking slowly. I swallow hard, the leather of the couch squeaking under my tightening grip.

I force my voice to be steady. “So what are you saying? Am I being assigned to the kitchen staff permanently? Or maybe the laundry core?”

Thorne stops a few feet from me, looking down with an expression that catches somewhere between genuine regret and absolute, unyielding resolve. “I am saying that as the Alpha of this pack, I am officially enacting the ancient law of severance. I am rejecting you from the Silvercrest Pack.”

The words echo loudly in my ears, making the room tilt slightly. I knew it was coming, but hearing the official decree feels like having the air punched out of my lungs.

“You are no longer a recognized member of this line,” Thorne states, his voice firm. “You may maintain contact with your parents and your sister through the human communication lines, but you can no longer live among us, and you can no longer set foot on pack lands. You must gather your things from the Thornwood house and leave the territory promptly. I will have a driver take you to the lower transit station by nightfall.”

There is nothing but silence in the room for the next few seconds, broken only by the sound of burning logs in the hearth. I breathe in, breathe out, and eventually forget how to breathe altogether.

Not only was I humiliated yesterday and basically sentenced to a life with no mate, I have now been sentenced to a life with no family as well. All because I couldn’t grow a few coats of fur.

“This decision wasn’t made lightly, Leia.” Thorne’s voice breaks through my trance of self-pity.

My lungs eventually remember their job and I take a long, deep breath and try to force my voice steady as I say, “Really? Because it feels pretty light from my side.”

“Leia, it’s–”

“Understood, Alpha.” I stand up, my legs feeling entirely numb, but I force my shoulders back and look him dead in the eyes. “Thank you for the hospitality.”

I don’t wait for him to respond. I turn on my heel and walk out of the cottage, my chest burning as I slam the heavy oak door behind me.

The walk back to my house is a blur of cold wind and stinging pride. When I burst through the front door, my family is exactly where I left them in the kitchen, their eyes instantly lock onto my face and one look at my expression tells them everything they need to know.

“He threw you out,” Dad says, his voice exploding into the quiet room. He slams his fist down onto the kitchen island, making the dishes rattle. “That bastard actually enacted the severance! After everything this family has given to his council!”

“Calm down, Arthur,” Mom cries, her hands flying to her mouth as she begins to sob openly. “We can appeal to the elders. Harlan knows her, he knows she’s a good girl. We can ask for a tribunal!”

“There is no tribunal for a severance, Mom,” I say, my voice empty as I walk over to the stairs. “Thorne is right. The Reapers took a northern outpost today and now two scouts are dead. He needs warriors, not a broken wolf who spends her nights hiding on the mountain. I’m useless to the pack. I’m just going to go pack my bags.”

“No, wait,” Freya says, her voice ringing out with a sudden authority that stops me on the bottom step. She steps away from the counter, her eyes gleaming with a strange, fierce intensity. “There’s another option. Dad, Mom, listen to me. She doesn’t have to go to the human cities. There is a place for rejected wolves.”

Dad freezes, his face draining of color as he stares at his oldest daughter. “Absolutely not! You are not bringing that up. It’s a myth, a bedtime story told to frighten pups into compliance.”

“It’s not a myth, Dad,” Freya counters, stepping closer to the stairs, her eyes locked onto mine. “I’ve spoken to the high scouts on the border and they’ve seen the emissaries. It’s a real place and a sanctuary for those who don’t fit the traditional pack structures.”

“It’s a death trap!” Dad roars, his hands clenching into fists. “It is entirely too dangerous. The entities that run that place are not like us, Freya. They keep their residents immortal at a price we cannot comprehend. Yes, they helped protect our ancestors from the Reapers centuries ago, but the risks are astronomical. I would rather see Leia live as a human in a crowded city than send her to that place.”

Oh good, I think. I can become the mysterious overweight barista who secretly cries behind a Starbucks. Living the dream.

“What place?” I ask, my eyes darting between Freya and my father. “What are you two talking about? What academy?”

Mom looks like she’s about to faint, her hands gripping the edge of the counter for support. “Arthur, if it’s real… if it keeps her safe from the external threats we… we have to at least consider it. Thorne won’t protect her once she crosses the border and the Reapers will find her in the human transit lines.”

“I am not sending my youngest daughter to a dark covenant!” Dad insists, his voice shaking with absolute rage.

“She won’t survive the human cities, Dad!” Freya fires back, her voice rising to match his. “She has no human records, no money, and no understanding of their world. This is her only real chance to become something more than an outcast.”

I step off the stair, my patience entirely evaporating in the face of their shouting. “Will someone please shut up and tell me what the hell you’re all talking about?!”

Freya turns to me, her expression turning completely grave, her dark eyes reflecting the flickering light of the kitchen fixture as she delivers the final truth.

“There’s a place,” she says, her voice dropping into a heavy, solemn tone, “it’s an academy. And it might be your last hope.”