Chapter Two: Wolfless

That night haunted her still. The entire pack had gathered, Kieran standing proud in his

Alpha's place, Ennis grinning with excitement. Everyone had been so certain. Alpha

blood ran strong in the line; there had never been a question of if she would shift, only

what her wolf would look like. Some had whispered that with her red hair and her

mother's bloodline, she might shift into something extraordinary.

Fiona had felt it building inside her as midnight approached—a pressure, a power,

something vast and ancient rising to the surface. The wolf had been right there, so close

she could taste it. And then...

Nothing.

Midnight had come and gone. The power had receded like a tide pulling back from

shore. And Fiona had stood there, still human, still trapped in her skin, while the pack's

excitement had curdled into confusion, then pity, then barely concealed disappointment.

Kieran had tried to hide his shock. But Fiona had seen it in his eyes, that flicker of

something that looked like recognition. As if he'd known this might happen. As if he'd

been waiting for it, dreading it.

She'd tried to talk to him about it in the days that followed, but he'd deflected every

attempt. "Give it time," he'd said. "Sometimes the wolf needs time." But his eyes had

told a different story. His eyes had said: I know what you are, and I don't know how to

tell you.

The sound of running water pulled her from the memory. The river appeared through the

trees like a ribbon of silver, wide and clear and constant. Fiona's shoulders dropped as

tension bled out of her. This place, at least, never judged. Never whispered. Never

looked at her like she was less than what she should be.

She made her way to her favorite spot—a flat rock that jutted out over the water,

surrounded by willows whose branches trailed in the current like long green hair.

Someone had carved initials into the rock decades ago, worn smooth now by weather

and time.

 Fiona set down her bag and pulled out her supplies: canvas, brushes, paints

in tubes that were running low.  She'd have to ask Kieran for money to buy more,

another reminder of her dependence, her uselessness to the pack.

But when she started to paint, all of that fell away.

Her brush moved across the canvas in sure strokes, capturing the play of light on water,

the way the willows swayed in the breeze, the distant mountains that rose like sentinels

on the horizon. This was her gift, the one thing she could do that had nothing to do with

wolves or shifting or pack politics. When she painted, she was just Fiona—not the

Alpha's disappointing daughter, not the wolfless girl, just herself.

 The sun sank lower, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink that echoed the red of her hair. Fiona lost herself in the work, in the meditation of color and form. The wolf in her mind settled, content for once, as if she too found peace in the act of creation.

She didn't know how long she'd been painting when the first prickle of awareness crept

up her spine.

Fiona's hand stilled, brush hovering over canvas. The forest had gone quiet. No birds

sang in the trees. No insects hummed in the grass. Even the river seemed to hold its

breath.

The wolf in her mind surged upward, suddenly alert. Danger, she seemed to whisper.

Danger danger danger—

A twig snapped behind her.

Fiona spun, her heart hammering. Three figures emerged from the tree line, moving with

the predatory grace of wolves in human skin. But these weren't pack. She would have

recognized pack. These were rogues—she could tell by the way they moved, by the

wild, hungry look in their eyes, by the lack of any pack scent to mark them as belonging

anywhere.

The one in the center smiled, showing too many teeth. He was tall and rangy, with scars

that crisscrossed his bare arms. "Well, well. What do we have here? A little wolf, all

alone?"

Fiona's mind raced. The pack house was too far. Even if she screamed, no one would

hear. The river was at her back, the rogues blocking her path to the forest. Her phone

was in her bag, useless—she'd never reach it in time.

"I'm not alone," she said, proud that her voice didn't shake. "My pack knows where I am.

They'll be here any minute."

The rogue laughed, a sound like breaking glass. "Is that so? Funny, I don't smell any

pack markers on you. You smell like..." He inhaled deeply, his smile widening. "Nothing.

You smell like nothing at all."

The other two rogues spread out, flanking her. One was a woman with matted blonde

hair and eyes that gleamed with madness. The other was younger, barely older than

Fiona, but his hands were already shifting into claws.

"Wolfless," the woman hissed, her voice full of contempt and delight. "The Alpha's

daughter is wolfless. Oh, this is rich."

They knew who she was. Somehow, they knew.

Fiona's back hit the willow tree. There was nowhere left to go except into the river, and

she'd never make it across before they caught her. The wolf in her mind was howling

now, throwing itself against the invisible barrier with desperate fury.

Let me out, she seemed to scream. Let me OUT—

"Please," Fiona said, hating the word even as it left her mouth. "Please, just leave me

alone."

The lead rogue took a step closer. "Oh, we will. Eventually. But first, we're going to have

some fun. See, there's a bounty on Moon River Pack members. And the Alpha's

daughter?" His grin turned feral. "You're worth double. Especially one who can't fight

back."

He lunged.