The Lycans Nextdoor

Maxine

“Mum? Mum!”

Fuck.

I stopped for a strawberry float and now my mother has disappeared in the middle of the airport.

It’s Tuesday morning and Vancouver International Airport is packed. People are rushing in every direction, dragging suitcases and shouting over each other. How exactly does she expect me to find her in this chaos?

Especially since she has my phone.

I took another sip of the cold float and dragged my suitcase behind me, scanning the crowd. Mum looks like… well, a typical mum. Skinny, blonde hair in a messy bun, jeans, brown top.

Unfortunately, about fifty other women in this airport look exactly the same.

I weaved through the crowd, checking every direction so I wouldn’t miss her.

I’m her only child. It’s impressive that she managed to lose me in the airport of a country I’ve never even been to.

Did she go back to baggage claim? Did she leave the waiting area? For a moment I considered yelling for her again, but the strange looks people were giving me made me reconsider.

Understandable.

I’m seventeen years old and screaming mum in the middle of a Canadian airport like a lost toddler.

I spotted someone dressed exactly like her and tapped their shoulder.

Not my mum.

“Sorry,” I muttered with an awkward smile before speed-walking away.

That’s when I slammed into something solid.

Not wall-solid.

Chest-solid.

My float splashed everywhere.

I looked down.

A white shirt.

Ruined.

Shit.

I slowly lifted my gaze to meet a pair of very angry green eyes.

The owner of the shirt wasn’t a man like I first thought. He was a boy, probably my age or a couple years older, tall with long dark hair and the kind of face that could start riots on social media.

Behind him stood two more boys.

Of course there were two more.

One had striking red hair that looked almost unreal, soft and bright like copper under sunlight. His amber eyes studied me with quiet amusement. He looked like an athlete, tall and coiled with energy.

The other was tall and dark-haired, wearing glasses. His irises were stark white—so pale they almost looked silver.

Was he blind?

Judging by the way he was staring directly at me, definitely not.

All three of them looked like they had stepped out of a dark fantasy novel written by a woman with unrealistic expectations.

And right now, they all looked like they wanted to murder me.

“I’m so sorry,” I said quickly, stepping back.

The boy whose shirt I ruined didn’t say a word.

Instead, he grabbed what was left of my strawberry float.

And dumped it on me.

Cold syrup soaked through my white dress.

For a moment I just stood there.

Processing.

Tit for fucking tat.

Asshole.

“I said I was sorry,” I snapped, my face heating up with a mix of embarrassment and fury.

“Watch where you’re going next time,” he said coldly. “Freak.”

Then the three of them walked away.

Just like that.

I stared after them, sticky and stunned.

Me freak?

They were the ones who looked like supernatural creatures disguised as teenagers.

I had been hoping my new life in Canada might finally include a boyfriend.

Apparently my first interaction with hot boys here was already a disaster.

Thanks, Mum.

Still dripping strawberry syrup, I continued my search until I finally spotted her outside the airport.

She was standing beside a shiny grey Range Rover, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Max! Over here!” she called, grinning.

I walked over, still annoyed.

“What do you think?” she asked proudly, pointing at the car she likely bought with my trust fund. “Isn’t she gorgeous?”

My mother has an unhealthy obsession with Range Rovers.

“I think you have a problem,” I said, climbing into the passenger seat while she loaded our luggage into the trunk.

After my dad and little sister died in a chopper accident eleven years ago, it had just been the two of us. The only things we were able to keep were our house in London and my trust fund. My mom spoiled me to the point of absurdity everyone complained about it but she never seemed to care so, I didn’t mind that she used some of it to buy the car.

She deserved something nice.

Besides, I’m a straight-A student. I’ll probably get a scholarship anyway.

Mum slid into the driver’s seat and turned on the radio.

The seats still had protective plastic on them.

She’d probably keep it like that for a month. My mum likes to pretend everything she buys is brand new forever.

As we drove away from the airport, I stared out the window.

Last year had been… extremely difficult.

My best friend went missing for four days.

I was the one who found her.

Stuffed between two shelves in the library at school.

Dead.

Like that wasn’t already traumatizing on its own, somehow I turned into the prime suspect in her murder. Months of interrogations. Court hearings. People whispering behind my back.

If not for my mum, I might actually be in prison right now. She hired the best lawyers and never once doubted me, even when the evidences made me look guilty.

The real killer was never found. At least not until I left.

I loved Joey…

And she never got justice.

But that’s all behind me now.

Mum said we both deserved a fresh start, so she accepted a job here in Canada working as a neurological nurse in a rehabilitation center. We sold our house in London and moved into my grandparents’ old home where my mom grew up.They’re gone now, but the house is still standing and belongs to my mom.

I’ll be starting my senior year at a new school too, an international private school. Apparently Mum doesn’t trust public schools anymore after… everything, so she made the sacrifice to pay the humongous tuition f*e. Even though I got a half scholarship, the other half was still huge.

I leaned back in my seat as the city passed by outside the window.

New country.

New school.

New life.

I really needed this fresh start.