The Notorious Lycan And His Hybrid Breeder

Loretta Sullivan POV’S

It all started when I was just a freshman in high school, wide-eyed and awkward, navigating the brutal hierarchy of the Moon Glazed Pack. That's when I first laid eyes on Alpha Taylor Robinson, the future leader of our pack, a senior who commanded respect with every step he took.

He was everything I wasn't strong, pure-blooded, a true werewolf through and through. His dark hair fell just right over his piercing green eyes, and his presence radiated that undeniable alpha aura that made everyone else bow their heads.

I had a crush on him from the moment I saw him in the cafeteria, laughing with his friends like he owned the world.

But we never spoke. Not once. I was invisible to him, just another face in the crowd.

The real spark came during the school’s annual long march event, a grueling endurance test through the pack's forested territory, meant to weed out the weak. It was my first year participating, and I was already struggling. As a hybrid, my stamina wasn't up to par with the pure wolves.

My legs burned, my lungs screamed, and halfway through, I tripped over a root, crashing to the ground in a heap of embarrassment.

Mud smeared my uniform, and the other students snickered as they passed me by. No one stopped.

No one cared. But then, out of nowhere, Taylor was there. He didn't say a word, he just extended his hand, his grip firm and steady, pulling me up without even meeting my gaze.

His touch was electric, sending a shiver through me that had nothing to do with the cold forest air. He turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd, but in that brief moment, my heart was his.

From then on, I admired him from afar. I'd steal glances in the hallways, watching him dominate the football field or lead pack meetings with effortless authority. He was the golden boy, destined to take over from his father as Alpha. And me?

I was Loretta Sullivan, the outcast.

The useless hybrid.

My mom—well, the rumors said she was a wicked elf, some dark fae creature who seduced my dad and abandoned us both.

Dad, Henry Sullivan, was just a lowly omega slave in the pack, barely scraping by as a servant in the Alpha's household.

He cleaned floors, fetched errands, and endured the constant humiliation of being at the bottom of the totem pole.

Pure werewolves like Taylor looked down on us hybrids as abominations—impure, weak, a stain on the pack's bloodline. I wasn't welcome in their circles. They whispered behind my back, called me “elf-breed” or worse.

During pack gatherings, I'd sit alone, watching Taylor from the shadows, my heart aching with a longing I knew could never be fulfilled.

The struggle defined me. Every day was a battle against the isolation.

In class, I'd raise my hand to answer questions, only to be ignored or mocked. “What would a half-elf know about pack history?” they'd sneer.

During full moons, when the pure wolves shifted and ran together in perfect harmony, I'd hide in the woods, my own transformation patchy and painful—half-wolf, half-something else, never fully one or the other.

Dad tried to shield me, working himself to the bone to keep us fed, but his omega status meant he couldn't protect me from the pack's disdain.

“You're stronger than they think, Loretta,” he'd say, his voice weary from years of servitude. But I didn't feel strong.

I felt broken, yearning for acceptance, for someone like Taylor to see me—not as the hybrid freak, but as someone worthy.

That crush became my secret anchor, a flicker of hope in the darkness of my shunned existence.

Little did I know, it would lead to a path of even greater turmoil, where my hybrid nature would force me to confront the pack's prejudices head-on.

But that's a story for another time. For now, I just watched him, from afar, dreaming of a world where I wasn't invisible.

But still I was so obsessed with him, it bordered on madness. Every waking moment, my thoughts drifted to Taylor Robinson—his strong jawline, the way his muscles flexed under his shirt during training sessions, the rare glimpses of vulnerability he showed only to his inner circle.

I'd fantasize endlessly: him sweeping me into his arms during a pack run, declaring me his mate under the full moon, our souls intertwining in a bond that defied the pack's rigid hierarchies.

It was excessive, I knew that deep down, but it was my escape from the relentless shunning. I'd write his name—Taylor—on scraps of paper, fold them carefully, and slip them under my pillow each night, whispering prayers to the universe that he'd notice me, that fate would intervene.

I visualized us as soulmates, destined by the cosmos.

Every day, I'd watch him from afar, my heart pounding with hope. In the school courtyard, during lunch, or at pack assemblies, I'd linger in the shadows, eyes locked on him.

Hoping—praying—that one day he'd approach me, declare it all in front of everyone like, “Loretta Sullivan is mine.”

It was a foolish dream, fueled by my isolation, but it kept the darkness at bay. I wasn't popular at school, not like Ennik, his stunning blonde girlfriend who turned heads wherever she went.

She was tall, beautiful, smart, she’s the school darling, with a pure werewolf lineage that made her the envy of every girl and the desire of every guy.

They were the perfect couple, the future Alpha and his queen, while I was just the hybrid freak, whispered about in hallways and excluded from every social circle.

Dad would warn me to let it go, his omega voice soft but firm, reminding me of the dangers of coveting what I could never have. But I couldn't stop. Taylor was my light in the gloom of being shunned, a beacon of possibility in a world that saw me as worthless.

Everything changed when I turned 18, right after graduating high school. The pack's expectations weighed heavier than ever, pure wolves like Ennik were already planning their futures, while hybrids like me faced uncertain paths, often relegated to servitude or exile.

I was walking along a secluded path leading to the lake near our modest cabin, the one spot where I could escape the pack's judgmental stares. The air was crisp, the forest whispering secrets, when I caught a scent that made my pulse race.

It was intoxicating, freshly heated herbal oils, earthy and masculine, like the subtle perfume Taylor always wore.

My mind immediately raced to him, heart fluttering with that familiar obsession. And as if I'd summoned him through sheer willpower, Taylor suddenly appeared from another alley of the path, emerging like a shadow come to life.

He looked even more imposing than in my fantasies—tall and towering, his body chiseled from three years of relentless alpha training, every muscle defined under his fitted shirt.

His messy black hair framed his rugged face, and his sharp hazel eyes held a calculating gaze that reflected his hot-headed nature, always one step away from unleashing his wolf.

He blocked my way completely, his presence dominating the narrow trail, staring into my eyes with an intensity that made my knees weak.

“Mine,” he growled in his deep, resonant voice, the word vibrating through the air like a command from the gods.

I felt a rush of excitement so overwhelming it bordered on hysteria, my cheeks flushing as disbelief warred with elation. I wanted to slap myself repeatedly because I couldn't believe what was happening right now.

This was everything I'd dreamed of for so long, even though I'd never dared admit it aloud. Now it was real! Finally, my pillow method had manifested successfully—the universe had listened to my desperate scribbles and fantasies.

But beneath the thrill, a flicker of doubt crept in. Was this fate, or just another cruel twist in my hybrid life?