The Last Wolf

***

The rain poured down steadily, drumming against the orphanage roof like a heartbeat. Lila sat by the window, her fingers pressed against the cold glass, watching the raindrops slide down in winding paths. She'd spent so much of her life on the inside looking out, always watching the world from behind glass, always just out of reach.

In her hand, she clutched a small, crumpled piece of paper, worn from being gripped so tightly. The letters were slightly smudged, but she'd read them so many times she could recite them by heart: William and Nora Ryland. Her family. Her past. A memory she can't remember.

The Caters were from the outskirts, she'd overheard, and that fact alone made people at the orphanage whisper when they thought she wasn't listening. Omegas. Lila knew exactly what that meant. In her town, everyone did. The ranks were as clear as they were unyielding, dividing everyone into roles that ruled their lives: alphas at the top, followed by betas, and then omegas at the bottom. For as long as she could remember, she'd heard that omegas led the hardest lives, laboring under the weight of a world that seldom showed them mercy.

So why would an omega choose to take her in, she wondered? She was practically a stranger, another girl who drifted through the orphanage doors after her birth parents had disappeared one night and left her behind, a child who has only the faintest memory of her mother's face. Omegas had their struggles; they didn't take in people. They didn't have the time, let alone the resources.

But Lila had learned long ago not to question small blessings. The last fifteen years had taught her that hope could be fragile, and if she held on too tightly, it might shatter.

A soft knock on the door startled her, and she turned to see Mrs. Harding, the orphanage director, standing in the doorway. Mrs. Harding's expression, usually strict and practical, held something softer today, a hint of sympathy in her sharp eyes. For a moment, she simply watched Lila, as if hesitant to break the quiet of the room.

"They're here," Mrs. Harding said, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. She didn't move, just waited for Lila, hands folded in front of her like she wasn't entirely sure she was ready to let her go.

Lila forced herself to her feet, smoothing down the fabric of her sweater with fingers that wouldn't stop trembling. She was supposed to feel grateful, she reminded herself. Most of the older kids didn't get a second chance, let alone a family. But as she made her way toward Mrs. Harding, she felt the weight of her heartbeat in her chest. She had spent so long learning not to feel, not to hope now, in a matter of days, her whole world was about to change.

She stepped into the hallway, the echo of her footsteps mingling with the faint murmur of voices. Mrs. Harding led her down the stairs and through the winding corridors of the orphanage, each corner a place she knew well, every stair creak a sound that felt like home. She'd never thought she would leave this place, not really, but with each step, the realization sank in she was truly leaving.