Chapter 2

Myla stormed into the principal’s office, her steps heavy with irritation. She grabbed the doorknob with a force that matched her frustration, then meticulously closed the door behind her. She wasn’t about to endure another scolding—once was more than enough.

“What have you done this time, Myla?” Alphonse’s voice came from behind his sprawling desk, his eyes peering at her over the paperwork.

His gaze felt like a spotlight, and Myla fought the urge to scream. Seriously, what had she done? She was only defending herself! It wasn’t her fault she had to deal with bullies. And, of course, it was just her luck that her foster father doubled as the principal of the only high school in their pack’s territory. Ugh, the struggle was real.

However, she wasn’t about to wear her vexation on her sleeve. No, she mustered a stoic front, her exterior offering no hint of the internal tirade she was conducting.

 “Well, the pack leaders have a meeting today, and you’ve been assigned to cook for them. Ten people,” Alphonse announced with a mischievous grin.

Myla wasn’t surprised. This was the usual drill. A faux offense would land her in the principal’s office at least twice a week. And each time, her dear “father” would conveniently excuse her with a cooking or cleaning assignment, sometimes even a video game showdown.

He gave her a playful wink and gestured toward the door. She took that as her signal to leave, hand on the doorknob, ready to escape this familiar scene, but then he cleared his throat pointedly.

Quickly, she adjusted her demeanor, putting on a show of being properly scolded and chastised. She squeezed out a tear, adding a touch of drama for extra effect, before waving Alphonse goodbye and exiting his office.

As Myla returned to her class, she was met with a sea of hostile glares from her classmates. This was the downside of attending a school with such small classes—once the queen bee despised you, the rest of the hive followed suit.

Taking her seat, Myla intended to shrug off their hatred, as she always did. But an inexplicable urge surged within her, compelling her to make them face the consequences of their hisses and growls over the years.

In a sudden burst of courage, she shot up from her chair. “You know what? Screw all of you! Yeah!” Their eyes widened in astonishment, and some even started growling.

“Oh, give it a rest, you silly dogs. Letting your wolves dictate your actions like you’re beneath them,” she exclaimed, smacking her hand on the table for emphasis.

Gasps echoed around the room, and Myla knew she had their attention now. “Screw you, your brainless leader, your idiotic human reasoning, and your even dumber wolves,” her frustration surged.

“You don’t even know why you hate me! You’re just blindly following that dumb girl’s lead like mindless goons,” her voice quivered with intensity.

Her classmates wore expressions of shock as if they’d witnessed something outrageous. Myla’s eyebrow twitched, and suddenly, the compulsion that had driven her evaporated, leaving only a rush of embarrassment behind. She sank back into her seat, praying they wouldn’t pounce on her.

The classroom remained silent until the very end of the period. As soon as the bell rang, Myla wasted no time making her exit, practically sprinting back home.

Later that day, Alphonse and the pack leaders gathered in their conference room to discuss Myla’s coming of age. It was like trying to manage a roomful of rowdy wolves, all barking at each other. The fact that the female in question was turning eighteen was already something, but when that female happened to be the moon goddess’s daughter, that was an entirely different story.

The meeting started with a cacophony of voices, grown men jostling for attention like a pack of unruly pups. Most were thoroughly displeased that Alphonse was honored to host the moon goddess’s daughter under his roof.

But of course, as the Moon Stone pack’s ultimate Alpha, Alphonse had the power to bring order to chaos. He cleared his throat, a sound that cut through the noise like a well-aimed arrow, and suddenly the room fell silent.

“We mustn’t forget that we’re still bound by the goddess’s decree to conceal her identity. We all know that the moon goddess inhabited her birth mother’s body and entrusted Myla to her care before the tragic accident claimed their lives,” Alphonse began, his voice steady and authoritative.

A knowing smile danced at the corners of his lips as he spoke. “Tomorrow, her mate will be revealed. I have suspicions, and I believe it might just be my son.”

The room held a collective breath at his words. In their kind, only the females received the moon goddess’s visions in dreams, visions that unveiled their destined mates. When both mates received this divine message, an undeniable pull would ensue, drawing them together.

“If my suspicions are right, having the blood of the moon goddess in our family line will be a great blessing,” he continued, a hint of anticipation in his words. But, naturally, other fathers had their speculations. Cramle, in a huff, chimed in, “It could also be my son. After all, he’s one of her closest friends.”

Alphonse scowled internally. Cramle’s son was about as bright as a moonless night—wasting Myla on him was out of the question.

Lucan said, “We’ll find out tomorrow, won’t we?” His frustration was evident as he dug his nails into the wooden table. Meanwhile, Levi, with a nonchalant tone, casually remarked, “Honestly, I don’t see anything special about that child.” His words ignited a storm in the room, and the others quickly followed suit, expressing their outrage.

Feeling the burden of his position, Alphonse pinched the space between his eyebrows and heaved a weary sigh.

“These are supposed to be fathers and grandfathers, yet they act like a pack of pups,” he thought wryly. Thankfully, the room was soundproof, sparing him from the cacophony. He rolled his eyes and wondered how he’d survive the coming day.

On the other hand, Myla was busy cooking for ten men, ten alphas, who ate as much as twenty normal people. This was no fun, with people constantly passing in and out of the house. She could have sworn she saw a kid go up to her room. It was another reason to leave this pack. This was a home belonging to a single family. Wolf or not, these people just lacked boundaries.

Suddenly, her hair was pulled, HARD. “Why did you touch her?” a deep baritone voice sounded behind her. She gasped and turned around, only to see Alex scowling at her. These werewolves kept forgetting she was still a normal human until she turned 18. He pulled his hands away.

His words were not lost on her. “She was being a serious bitch,” Myla said as she stirred the food, having long stopped defending herself.

“I will not let this disrespect stand. You face me when talking to me!” His voice raised.

“As you can see, I’m cooking!” She started.

“Maybe you can’t see. After all, you’ve been blind to her evil,” she gritted her teeth.

She heard a bang but refused to look at him.

“I don’t even know why my father lets you cook. Your food tastes disgusting!” He yelled.

Myla gasped. She wasn’t letting that one slide. “You take that back right now,” she said as she royally smacked his hand with the spatula. Alex looked dumbfounded, the expression quickly changing to anger. He yelled and swiped all the food already cooked onto the floor.

‘All that food, wasted, just gone, utterly wasted,’ she thought in despair. Myla went on her knees and began crying.

‘We can just put the food back in the pot, and no one will know,’ a voice in her head said.

‘Everyone will know; this is basically busybody paradise,’ she replied to the voice. ‘I’m talking to myself,’ she began to cry even more. Now she was becoming insane?! Her crush called her food horrible, he was a dumb bully who hated her, and then he poured said food on the kitchen floor. Nothing could be worse.

Alex was oblivious to her internal struggles. He looked conflicted and lost as her tears flowed. He cleared his throat and made a quick exit. “Hey, pretty lady, are you okay?” a silky voice asked. Myla paused her crying and looked at the man talking to her. Her tears promptly began to dry up.

His eyebrows were smooth slits sitting gingerly above his eyes. His hazel eyes were looking at her kindly. His mouth. HIS MOUTH! A sculptor carved those lips. This Greek god was talking to her?! ‘You’re ridiculous,’ the voice in her head said. She agreed.

She cleared her throat and looked for words. Then she sighted the food, and fresh tears began to spill.

Alarmed, the man quickly made her stand and look away from the food. “It seems your food was spilled. It’s okay, pretty lady,” he patted her shoulder awkwardly.

Myla regained her composure and wiped her tears. “Yeah, thank you...” She trailed off.

The man, sensing her curiosity, chuckled. “I’m Noah. I’m from the Dark Moon pack,” he started. “My father is a close friend of Alphonse, and I visited with him,” he finished.

“Oh, it’s nice to meet you, Noah,” she smiled.