The Last White Wolf & Her Chosen Kings

Daeira (Day-ruh) POV

I pop my gum just to piss off the Luna. It soothes me.

It’s cherry flavored, stale as hell, and the only thing in this entire damn world that tastes remotely like freedom. I chew it like I’ve got options, like I’m not the bitch they send to handle their dirty work when the rest of their lackeys are too scared or too soft.

But me? I’m neither. I shove my hands into the pockets of my ratty black hoodie, the sleeves cut off at the elbows, my exposed arms dusted with bruises and old scars. My jeans are threadbare, and my boots are stolen. I walk like I own the road, even though I’m technically just the courier for Bloodhowl’s favorite pastime: corruption.

The Luna’s words from this morning are still clawing at the inside of my skull. “Don’t fuck it up, Dee. You come back empty handed, and I swear I’ll break your other rib.”

She was kidding. Maybe. She wasn’t smiling. The drop is always at the same place. South border. Just past the old fence line. Hidden in plain sight, like everything disgusting around here.

He’s already there when I step out of the woods, the greasy human shitstain who buys the Luna’s pain pills by the case. He reeks of sweat, cheap beer, and gas station cologne, and he grins like he’s meeting a damn escort.

“Well, well, look who they sent. You legal yet, sweetheart?”

I don’t answer. Just hold out my hand. He laughs, gives me a look that makes my skin crawl, and drops the envelope into my palm. I count the cash on the spot, slow and deliberate. He watches me like I’m a steak and he hasn’t eaten in weeks. “I will break your fucking jaw,” I say casually, not looking up. Pop. Cherry gum snaps like gunfire. “Try me.”

He backs off real quick. Good. I’m not in the mood to bury another body this week. I head back through the woods, slipping between trees like a shadow. My boots crunch twigs that could’ve been bones, and my mind is a riot of plans. One more day. One more night. Then I run.

I’ve got just enough cash hidden in the wall behind the busted sink in my room. A bag already packed with my blackmail files.

Names.

Shipments.

Bank accounts.

Video.

They think I’m dumb. Just another omega mutt doing what she’s told. But I’ve seen every deal, every drop, every “shipment” that wasn’t drugs. People. Children. They’re monsters And I’m done.

I push through the back gate of the Alpha’s estate and head straight for the cellar door. Down the stairs. Past the mold. The rust. The rot. My boots echo on concrete like I’m walking into my own grave.

My room’s smaller than most closets, damp and dark, with one tiny cot shoved against the wall and a single flickering bulb overhead. A drain in the corner. No windows. No mercy. Tiny bathroom next to it with a busted sink.

This is where they put me. The girl with no pack. No wolf. No name. Just Dee. I stand in front of the cracked mirror nailed to the wall and stare at the stranger I’ve been pretending to be.

Tan skin. Hazel eyes that look like they’re hiding storms.

Dark chestnut hair, wild and thick, falling past my shoulders like it’s trying to escape my scalp. Full lips. Pretty face. Too pretty, really. I hate it. Makes me visible. Makes them notice me. I dress like hell and scowl like I mean it, but still… eyes linger.

I’m 5’8", nothing but lean muscle and stubborn fire. Starved, but strong. Soft curves under sharp edges. Built to run, fight, survive. Not an omega. Not really. At least I feel that way inside. But that’s what they told me. What the Alpha declared when I was found. No wolf. No magic. Just trash washed up from the wild.

Tomorrow is my eighteenth birthday. If the legends are true…If the Moon has anything left to say about my fate…

Then I’ll meet her. I’ll meet the wolf they swore I never had.

Maybe even my mate. And if I do? I’m not staying. I don’t care who the bond is.

I’m gone. Because the truth is, I don’t want a mate.

I want vengeance.

And I want them all to burn.