Chapter 5

Alpha Williams's smile didn't waver, but his eyes hardened. "It's not about what you want, Imogen. It's about what's best for the pack. For your safety."

I felt trapped, cornered. Kyle was watching me from across the fire, his face half in shadow. Was this his plan all along? To force his way into my most vulnerable moment?

"Excuse me," I mumbled, turning away. "I need some air."

I pushed through the crowd, ignoring the whispers that followed me. The woods beckoned, dark and full of promise. I could run now. Change my plans. Find somewhere else to shift.

But they'd follow me. They'd track me down.

I made it to the edge of the trees before the tears started falling, hot and angry, “No one wants me here, not even my own grandmother, so just leave me alone. In six years, no one until gave a damn about my birthday until today, or they humiliated me for writing to my late parents. I was taken in, but I have always been an outsider in this pack. Besides, it was my pack's tradition to do it alone, and that’s what I shall do. Or am I meant to go against my father’s pack’s laws?”

I stood there, trembling with anger and grief, my words hanging in the silence. The pack members closest to me had gone still, shock evident on their faces. No one had expected this outburst from quiet, invisible Imogen Lancaster.

Alpha Williams' expression darkened, his mouth set in a hard line. "Your father's pack no longer exists, Imogen. You are a member of the Williams pack now."

The words hit like a physical blow. My parents' pack had been small, nearly wiped out by hunters years ago. The survivors had scattered, joining other packs or disappearing altogether. But that didn't mean their traditions meant nothing.

"I know what I am," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "And what I'm not."

Grandmother stepped forward, her face pale. "Imogen, please..."

"No." I backed away, deeper into the shadows of the trees. "I'm doing this my way. Alone."

A murmur went through the crowd. Elder Michaels shook his head disapprovingly. Someone whispered something about "Lancaster stubbornness." I didn't care anymore.

I turned and plunged into the forest, not running but walking with purpose. They could follow if they wanted, I knew they would, but I had a head start and determination on my side. The plan had changed, but the goal remained the same: face my first shift alone, on my terms.

The forest welcomed me with familiar shadows and scents. I'd spent countless hours exploring these woods over the years, finding places where I could be truly alone. There was a clearing about two miles in, far enough from the pack lands that I might get some privacy, but not so far that I'd be in another pack's territory.

Twigs snapped behind me. I didn't need to look to know who it was.

"Go away, Kyle," I called over my shoulder.

"You know I can't do that." His voice was closer than I expected.

I spun around. He stood just a few yards away, hands shoved in his pockets, his face half-illuminated by the rising moon.

"Why?" I demanded. "Because Alpha daddy told you to babysit me?"

Kyle flinched at that. "No. Because I'm worried about you."

"Right." I laughed bitterly. "Six years of barely acknowledging my existence, and suddenly you're concerned for my welfare. How touching."

"I've acknowledged you plenty," he shot back. "You're the one who acts like I'm invisible."

"After what you did..."

"I was twelve!" His voice rose in frustration. "We were kids! I've apologised a hundred times, Imogen. I've tried to make it right."

“Bullshit, I was twelve, you were 15, now just fuck off.”

Kyle's face went white, then red. "I was fourteen, not fifteen. And yes, I was an asshole. I know that. But I've spent years..."

“No, asshat, you’re three years older than me, just fucking leave.”

Kyle's jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with something dangerous in the moonlight. "Fine. Have it your way."

"I will." I turned and stalked deeper into the forest, my heart hammering against my ribs.

I expected him to follow, to argue more, but when I glanced back, he was gone. The relief I felt was immediate, but short-lived. Now I was truly alone, with midnight approaching and my first shift looming. The weight of what I was about to face settled over me like a physical thing.

I pushed forward, navigating by instinct and memory. The woods grew denser, the moonlight filtering through the canopy in silver patches. My breathing came faster, not from exertion but from mounting anxiety.

What if they were right? What if this were dangerous to do alone? What if I had no wolf at all?

I shoved the thoughts away. Too late for doubts now.

The clearing appeared ahead, bathed in moonlight. It was smaller than I remembered, more intimate. Perfect. I dropped to my knees in the centre, my fingers digging into the soft earth. The silver pendant around my neck seemed to pulse with warmth.

"Mom," I whispered, clutching it. "Dad. I wish you were here."

The forest answered with silence. I checked my watch: 11:45. Fifteen minutes until midnight, when the shift would begin. According to the old journals, the first transformation always happened at the stroke of midnight on an eighteenth birthday. No exceptions.

I removed my hoodie, then my t-shirt, folding each item neatly despite my trembling hands. The night air raised goosebumps on my skin. Next came my shoes, socks, and jeans. I arranged everything in a tidy pile at the edge of the clearing, keeping only my mother's pendant around my neck.

Standing naked in the moonlight, I felt impossibly vulnerable. Exposed. This was why I couldn't bear witnesses, this raw, unguarded moment of truth.

I closed my eyes, trying to centre myself. The old journals described the first shift as a calling, a pull from deep within. I waited for it, listening to my heartbeat, to the soft whisper of leaves overhead.

Minutes ticked by. Nothing happened.

I opened my eyes. Checked my watch again: 12:01.

One minute past midnight. Still human. Still just Imogen.

"Come on," I whispered to myself, to whatever wolf might be slumbering inside me. "Please."

12:05. Nothing.

Panic rose in my throat. What was wrong? Why wasn't it happening?