Chapter 4

I nearly jumped out of my skin. Kyle had materialised beside me, his presence so sudden I wondered if he'd been watching me all along.

"Don't you have someone else to torment?" I muttered, not looking at him.

He leaned against the tree I'd been using as cover, close enough that I could smell the woodsmoke on his clothes mingling with something distinctly him, pine and something wild.

"Probably," he said, his voice low enough that only I could hear. "But Grandmother asked me to keep an eye on you."

"Well, you can tell her mission accomplished. I'm fine." I took a deliberate step away from him.

Kyle's eyes reflected the firelight, turning them molten gold. "Are you? Because you look like you're about to bolt into those woods behind us."

My heart stuttered. Was I that transparent?

"I just needed some air," I lied. "Too many people."

"Imogen." The way he said my name, soft but insistent, made me finally look at him. "I know what you're planning."

For a moment, panic seized me. "You don't know anything about me, Kyle. How many friends do I have in this pack?"

Kyle's expression faltered, the confidence in his eyes dimming for just a moment. He glanced at the ground, hands shoved in his pockets.

"None," he admitted quietly. "But that doesn't mean you should face your first shift alone."

"Why do you even care?" I hissed, keeping my voice low so the others wouldn't hear. "You've made it perfectly clear what you think of me over the years."

He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture I'd seen him do countless times when he was frustrated. "That's not fair."

"Fair?" I nearly choked on the word. "You want to talk about fair? Was it fair when you and your brothers cornered me at my first pack gathering after my parents died? When you took my journal and read my letter to them out loud?"

Kyle's face paled. "I was twelve, Imogen. A stupid, insecure kid trying to impress my brothers."

"And I was a grieving child," I shot back, my voice trembling despite my efforts to control it. "Who had just lost everything."

The bonfire crackled in the silence between us, sparks rising into the darkening sky. Around us, the pack continued their celebrations, oblivious to our confrontation.

"I know," he finally said. "And I've spent six years trying to figure out how to make it right."

I laughed bitterly. "Well, following me into the woods tonight isn't it."

"Your grandmother thinks..."

"My grandmother is worried I'll be the Lancaster that breaks the bloodline," I cut him off. "That I'll be the one who doesn't shift. She can't bear the thought of it, so she's convinced herself I need protection. I don't."

Kyle studied me, his amber eyes unnervingly perceptive. "Is that what you're afraid of? That you won't shift?"

The question hit too close to home. I looked away, focusing on the dancing flames of the bonfire instead of his face.

"I'm not afraid of anything," I lied.

"Everyone's afraid of something," he said softly. "My first shift, I was terrified I wouldn't measure up to my brothers. That I'd be weaker, slower. The runt of the litter."

I glanced at him, surprised by the admission. It was hard to imagine Kyle Williams, confident, athletic, pack royalty, being afraid of anything.

"Were you?" I asked before I could stop myself.

A small, rueful smile tugged at his lips. "My wolf was the last to emerge. Took nearly an hour longer than theirs. My dad just kept staring at me like I was some kind of disappointment."

I didn't know what to say to that. It was easier when I could hate him without complication.

"Look," he continued, "I'm not asking to be there when it happens. Just... let me follow at a distance. Make sure you're safe. If something goes wrong.”

“NO, I won’t say it again,” I said, turning to leave.

Kyle's hand shot out, grabbing my wrist. His touch was like an electric current, sending an unwelcome jolt through my system.

"Imogen, wait..."

I yanked my arm away. "Don't touch me."

Something flashed in his eyes: hurt, frustration, maybe both. "Fine. Go get yourself killed. See if I care."

The words stung more than they should have. I turned away, blinking back sudden, unwanted tears. Stupid birthday emotions. Stupid Kyle. Stupid everything.

"Imogen!" Grandmother's voice called from across the clearing. "Come here, dear. Alpha has something to say."

Perfect timing. I shot Kyle one last glare and headed toward the bonfire, where Alpha Williams stood waiting. The entire pack had gathered in a loose circle, their faces expectant. My stomach dropped. Whatever was about to happen, I knew I wouldn't like it.

"Tonight," Alpha Williams began, his deep voice carrying easily over the crackling fire, "we celebrate not only the birthday of Imogen Lancaster, but her transition into full pack membership."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. I stood rigid, Grandmother's hand coming to rest supportively on my shoulder.

"As is tradition, her first shift will be witnessed by the pack elders and guided by one of our strongest wolves." His amber eyes, so like Kyle's, fixed on me. "My son Kyle has volunteered for this honour."

The world seemed to tilt sideways. I felt the blood drain from my face as heads turned toward Kyle, who had materialised at the edge of the circle, his expression unreadable.

"No," I said, but it came out as barely a whisper.

"It's decided," Alpha Williams continued, as if I hadn't spoken. "At midnight, we will gather at the Sacred Clearing for the ceremony."

Grandmother's fingers tightened on my shoulder, a warning. Don't make a scene. But panic was rising in me like a tide, threatening to drown rational thought.

"I don't want a ceremony," I managed, my voice stronger now. A few heads turned, surprise on their faces. No one refused pack traditions. No one.