All Chapters of The lost packs: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

*Amber* Hope stands in the center of the dimly lit room, her grip firm around the cold metal of the gun, ready for whatever lurks beyond the door. Clay sits on the couch, his silence so profound that for a moment, I wonder if he’s succumbed to sleep. I remain in the armchair, straining to catch even the faintest sound. My heart thuds in my chest, echoing the primal instinct that has been ingrained in me… always listen for danger, always be prepared. Then, I hear it… footsteps on the stairs. Just as Hope pivots, gun raised, a rush of relief washes over me when I see Kattie and KC burst through the door. Despite her cool demeanor, I notice the subtle relaxation in Hope’s posture, the way her shoulders ease as she lowers the weapon. “Put it down,” Kattie says, her authoritative tone brooking no argument. She glances at Clay, who shifts slightly on the couch, his expression a mixture of irritation and concern. “I’m heading to the police station right away. Tjeck has agreed to let Amb

*Tjeck* It is a rare occasion for all the Alphas to gather for a regular meeting. Most of us happily send our betas or another top member of our pack to handle these matters. If there are important issues to discuss, we would be notified in advance. Yet, Kattie remains the only one without the A tattooed on her neck… the symbol of an Alpha. She still bears the B from her time as Adis's beta. As always, we begin by selecting someone to moderate the discussion, and as always, Kress is chosen when he’s present. Not even Zombie or Sunny protests. Zombie knows Kress is honest in these situations, while Sunny simply doesn’t care. He attends only because he has to, in order for The Suns to maintain their privileges. Kress is the oldest among us, not counting Sunny, and no one ever does. "Okay then. Since I know everyone has questions for The Shadows, I’ll let Kattie take the floor first," Kress says, nodding toward her. Kress believes she-wolves belong in the kitchen and the bedroom… an

*Amber* The park sits at the heart of the city, a lush green oasis bordered by towering trees that lead down to the harbor. On the opposite side, a few small shops stand, including a pub, a grocery store, and a clothing boutique. In the center of the park, an empty fountain casts a shadow over a worn skating ramp and a basketball court with tattered nets, remnants of happier games played under the sun. Today, the park is bustling with people. Many wear visible tattoos, intricate designs that signify their allegiance to one of the five packs. Children laugh and play on the basketball court, blissfully unaware of the adults standing nearby, armed and vigilant. A group of young men congregates on the skating ramp, their demeanor exuding a sense of entitlement that feels out of place in this gritty environment. “The spoiled princes of Catrista,” Kattie says, her voice laced with annoyance when I ask about them. “They come here, thinking they’re cool with their skateboards, acting like

*Amber* The voice cuts through the air like a blade, authoritative and laced with a threatening edge. Zombie slowly turns us to face the newly arrived figure. I don’t recognize him at first, but the three stars tattooed on his neck mark him as one of The Stars. “Kress,” Zombie says the name with a weird fondness, as if he’s just encountered an old friend after a long separation, and he is not standing here ready to snap my neck. But the tension in the air tells a different story; Kress stands there, poised and ready, radiating danger. Kress looks icy cold and composed. I’ve heard much about him… Adis’s mentor and friend for many years. I had imagined him older, but aside from being around forty, my mental image was pretty accurate. His dark blonde hair appears to have been cut haphazardly, his mouth framed by a thick beard that accentuates his strong jawline. He doesn’t carry weapons, but I know better than to underestimate him. He might be a friend of Adis, but that doesn’t neces

*Tjeck* I close the door to my office, casting a questioning glance at Thorn, who has settled himself behind my desk with his feet propped up on the table, as if he owns the place. Once upon a time, he did belong here, but he never belonged in this office. "You’re never going to get anything useful out of her, Tjeck," Thorn says, his tone laced with amusement as if he find my attempt to train a daughter of the upper packs in our way of life funny. Thorn is the strong one… always has been. He mastered control over his body first, giving him an edge in hand-to-hand combat. Yet, when it comes to his views on she-wolves and their place in pack society, he’s stuck in the past, too much like Kress. "And why shouldn’t I?" I retort, flopping down across from him and resting my legs next to his on the table. "She definitely doesn’t lack drive after Zombie’s attack." "She’s tearing The Shadows apart," Thorn counters, pulling his feet off the table and leaning forward, his expression shifti