The Secret Wolf

Elara POV

The freezing bite of the spring river water still clung to my bones, making my teeth chatter uncontrollably. My lungs burned with every shallow breath, and the scent of bitter medicinal herbs mixed with damp, rotting wood filled my nose.

I wasn't dead. I was... here.

Trapped in the fragile, wolfless body of Elara Snow. I had woken up in the world of the werewolf novel I used to read, occupying the body of the doomed, sickly Omega who was destined to be the tragic "white moonlight" of the ruthless Alpha Kalen Lancaster. But right now, the billionaire Alpha and his glittering world were a lifetime away. I was at the absolute bottom of the food chain.

Before I could even force my heavy eyelids open, a sharp, furious voice pierced my pounding headache.

"You stupid, useless boy! She has no wolf, Isaac! No wolf! And you let her near the thawing river?"

I cracked my eyes open. The room was a cramped, drafty shack on the very edge of the Bloodmoon Pack's Omega quarters. The blackened wooden beams above looked like they might cave in at any moment. Standing near my cot was Diana, my mother. She was jabbing a fierce, trembling finger into the chest of a towering, broad-shouldered young man who was shrinking into himself like a beaten pup.

Isaac. My older brother.

"Isaac..." My voice was a raw, sandpaper croak.

Both heads snapped toward me. Isaac dropped to his knees beside my bed, his massive hands hovering over me as if I were made of spun glass. Diana shoved him aside, her calloused hands immediately cupping my freezing cheeks. Tears spilled from her fierce, exhausted eyes.

"Elara. Oh, Goddess, my sweet girl," she breathed, the terrifying anger in her voice instantly melting into frantic relief.

The sudden shift in the room's atmosphere was too much for Isaac. The tension inside the fully grown werewolf snapped. He buried his face in the ragged fur blanket covering my legs and began to sob loudly, his broad shoulders shaking with the force of his guilt.