The Broken Alpha

i

't hurt anyone – she would suffer through endless torment if she had to. The weight of the chains was nothing in comparison to the guilt she

fter her argument with her dad, and, brooding and angry, she'd come straight down to the cellar. Dressed in just jeans and a thin t-shirt, she longed to sprint upstairs

d cellar, she would get through it. Each month, she found that she could exert a little more control over her wolf side. Her dad was ada

omething – anything – to distract herself. Atticus was the first thing to come to mind, and she gritted her teeth. She wouldn't allow he

yet – some part o

and then it snapped her ankles. Her head jerked, but she did not make a sound. Clinging to the spa

ll through the pain she focused on that small, burning light within her. She clung to it,

and went. Her head jerked again, but thi

te everything, her jaw lolled open into a distorted grin. Anxious to hold on

g, but it did not come with the revelry and celebration of many of the other moons. Of that, at least, Lily was glad. H

ed, or if it was a devil sent to torment them. Perhaps, had she been born into a different pack, it would not seem so evil as it did. The White

ed for. Despite what her Dad had told her, Lily did not believe for a second that White Oak pushed and pushed. That was what Bl

er turned outside, never once allowed herself a taste of the freedom that her pack tried so hard to push on her. Perhaps now she had a ho

chains holding her

hink of the carnage surely taking place at the border, of the blood soaking into the dewy gr

ver their lands, but peace would never be achieved through violence. Though her dad fought her on it every month, she believed that

rnating somewhere beneath years of brittle conversation and snapping remarks. More than that, there was nostalgia and memory for a tim

shifting. Then, if a wolf wanted to leave, he would give his blessing – almost always if the wolf was of no use to him – or he would disagree, and the wolf

a second glance back at her. She was a Warrior Wolf unwilling to fight,

t was frowned upon – every part of the pack had a duty to uphold, and dying at the hands of better warriors meant they would be unable to perform

e would have clenched them. Since Atticus had taken up his father's mantle, only one wolf ever stay

with all that she was and all that she would ever be. That same, delirious part of her longed to