One

Everly

My pounding head spins as I look around at my surroundings, and I instantly regret drinking so much. Panic courses through me when I can’t immediately recognize my surroundings. I can tell I'm in a room; the light coming in through the window is blinding as I try to figure out where I am. The last thing I remember is the annual Alpha meet-up, a costume party I attended with my family. My sister and I snuck off to meet with the other future Alphas. My father always insists I need to 'get in good with them', seeing as I am next in line and will have the pack handed over to me at the end of the year when I turn eighteen. Yet, for the life of me, I can’t remember how I got into this room.

I groan, rubbing my eyes and hoping I'm seeing shit properly—the alcohol burning in my system is still making me confused. When I try to roll over, though, suddenly, I become aware of the heavy arm draped over my waist. My head whips to the side, and I pray that the heavy arm belongs to my sister and that we have both passed out somewhere. But my worst fears are realized, and I try to contain my scream of horror when I find a naked man lying beside me. He isn’t just any man either, but the 'Blood Alpha' himself, Alpha Valen of the Nightshade Pack. This man owns half the city and is from a rival pack.

My father is going to murder me if he finds out!

“Fuck!” I whisper under my breath before looking down to find myself also naked. The slight discomfort between my legs makes me painfully aware that I tossed my virginity out the window and have absolutely no memory of it. So much for that being a magical moment. He must be a shit lay, I chuckle to myself. Of all people, it had to be him.

My phone vibrates on the floor beside the bed, causing me to nearly dive off to retrieve it. My sister’s face pops up on the screen. I quickly answer it, whispering into the phone, mindful to keep my voice low. “Hello?”

“Where are you? Dad is going to lose it. I told him you’re with me, but he's asked me to come home!” she shrieks through the phone. I glance around before looking out the window, trying to figure out my location. Shit. I realize I’m still at the hotel where the Alpha meet was held.

“Still at the Banks Hotel,” I whisper, and she pauses, going quiet for a few moments.

“Oh my God, please tell me you didn’t fuck Alpha dickwad?” she whispers, knowing Dad will kill me—probably even disown me—if he ever finds out. Alpha Valen’s reputation is scandalous and terrifying. I look over at the Greek God lying in bed beside me, completely passed out and unaware of me standing gawking at him. I would love to see the horror on his face when he wakes up, but he just might get in line behind my father and kill me, too. Shit, they may even conspire together to make my death exceptionally horrific.

“No, of course not. I just fell asleep in one of the rooms here, completely alone,” I lie, hoping Ava believes me. I won’t get her caught up in my minor issue if Dad asks her; she sucks at lying. She doesn’t know she can’t get in trouble because of me.

“Shut it. If Dad asks, tell him you stayed with Amber and me. I'll have Amber pick you up on the way; be there in five,” she says, hanging up.

I quickly look around, scooping my clothes up off the floor and squeezing into the skin-tight little dress. I toss the stupid-ass fairy wings in the trashcan in the bathroom.

Looking in the mirror, I try to fix my makeup—my face is still covered in ridiculous amounts of glitter, and the eye mask that was painted on my face by my sister still conceals half my face. I chuckle to myself, knowing the Alpha will probably wake up just as confused as me and wonder why he is covered in glitter.

I vaguely remember talking to him, finding myself drawn to him for some reason. But now, as I gaze upon his paralyzed form, I can’t help but wonder who took advantage of whom.

I give him one last glance, scoop up my heels, and grab my clutch purse before rushing to the hotel door and swinging it open, only to crash straight into Alpha Valen’s Beta. I smack into his chest, and he stumbles back, staring at me.

I recognize him from last night’s introductions, though thankfully, he seems to have no idea who I am, as I was at the back of the room when he was introduced. I'm grateful for the paint on my face because he might have recognized me as my father’s daughter without it, which is the last thing I need.

He smirks at me, clearly finding it funny that I am running from the Alpha’s hotel room.

“My Alpha in there?” he asks. I drop my head, hoping he doesn’t recognize me, and quickly nod. I step past him, trying not to touch him.

“Are you alright, or do you need a ride home?” he asks, making me stop.

“What, do you give all your Alpha’s one-night stands a ride home?” I chuckle at him, and he smiles.

“Only the pretty ones,” he says, and I roll my eyes, waving him off before taking off to meet my sister. We need to hurry home before my dad sends out a search party to run through Mountainview City to retrieve his daughters.

Three weeks later

One night.

That was all it took to throw away everything I have ever known. I knew something was wrong when I felt a bit under the weather for more than a few days. Werewolves rarely get sick. Finally, after spending the last week ill, my father—Alpha of Shadow Moon Pack—had dragged me off to see the pack doctor.

Our home, Mountainview City, is entirely populated by werewolves, comprising four packs. My father’s pack is the second-largest pack, which means we're held in fairly high esteem in the area. Plus, the fact that he only has two daughters means that I, as the eldest, am next in line.

Well, I was until the Doctor returned to the exam room after running some tests and turned that dream upside down. The look of disappointment on my father’s face makes my heart clench. One night, one man turned out to be the biggest mistake of my life.

“She is pregnant.”

I feel my heart sink into my stomach. No, I can’t be. I only had sex once, and I don’t even remember because I was trashed. How the hell could this be happening? My father casts a stunned look at me from where he sits before returning his gaze to our pack doctor.

“It’s wrong; rerun the test. She hasn’t found her mate. She can’t be pregnant,” my father says. I shrink back in my chair. I'm only seventeen, nearly eighteen, and the number one rule all she-wolves have drummed into our heads is to save ourselves for our mates. This is a huge deal, especially to my father. This would bring shame to our family, that I would break the one sacred rule for she-wolves. Sure, the men fool around (a little bias, anyone?) Yet if we do it—especially someone like me in a position of power—it's frowned upon. I would be a disgrace to the family.

“Alpha, I have tested the urine sample twice,” Doc Darnel tells him, but my father shakes his head, not believing his words—or not wanting to.

“No, test it again; it is wrong. My daughter is not a rogue whore,” he says, finality in his voice.

I cringe at his words: a woman who falls pregnant to someone who is not their mate. It's the worst thing to be labeled besides a traitor, though they're treated the same.

Rogue whores are forbidden on pack lands, only allowed on neutral territory: the main drag of the city and the two streets behind it on either side. Most she-wolves that fall pregnant in other cities are banished like they do with those that betray or commit treason among the packs; forsaken wolves. Without any pack contact, they turn feral, sending them crazed and mad, and are forced to live outside the cities. No one wants to be on their own out there. It isn’t safe, and not how anyone wants to live.

Our city is different. We don’t banish women from the city. Our treatment is slightly more… humane, I guess you could say. Instead, we just make them rogues, free to go about their lives but without pack help. I used to look down on them—those women I would see trying to make ends meet for their 'poor choices.' Maybe this is my karma; I will soon be one of them.

Running through this scenario in my head, the room starts to feel like it's running out of air. I wonder if I'm going to pass out.

“Yes, Alpha, I will test it again,” Doc Darnel says before rushing out of the room and away from my father’s deadly glare. My father starts pacing, and my heart rate quickens when he stops, turning to face me.

“He has to be wrong; you are not like that. You wouldn’t shame me this way,” he says, looking for confirmation. I shrink back in my chair. The Doc coming back in again stops him from saying more.

“The results are the same, Alpha,” Doc says before looking at me with pity.

I swallow, staring wide-eyed at the pack doctor, hoping he can save me from my father’s wrath, but even I know the elderly, graying man is no match for my father.

Neither am I since I still haven’t shifted.

After shifting on our eighteenth birthday, we can find our mates. I have seen friends and family go through it. It is considered sacred. I wonder, terrified, how much being pregnant will delay the process. Bodies can’t shift while pregnant; it is a safety mechanism to protect the unborn pup.

My father growls, turning on his heel and glaring at me, his fists clenched by his sides as he fights the urge to shift. Often, werewolves shift when they lose their temper or are preparing for a fight. Despite how hard he's trying, he's still barely holding back, his eyes starting to flicker black and his body trembling in his anger.

My father has always been so proud of my sister and me, always showing us off and telling everyone about what great daughters we are and what a great Alpha I will be when I take over the pack. I look like him—dark hair and bluish-gray eyes, I got those traits from him—and he raised me in his image, preparing me to take over. But right now, with my face mirrored in his wolf's black orbs, he looks on the verge of killing me. I have never seen him so angry in his life, and that is saying something.

“How far along is she?” Father asks. The venom in his words makes my blood run cold.

“We can have an ultrasound done next week to confirm gestation,” Doc tells him, and I look at my hands.

“No, do it now so we can take care of it before word gets out. I won’t have a rogue whore for a daughter. This is not to get out, do you understand, Doc?”

Doc nods his head nervously.

Vaguely, I notice my mouth is hanging open as I stare, absolutely gobsmacked at what my father just said. It's going against the Moon Goddess to abort a baby!

“Wait!” I say, finally finding my voice. My father looks at me and the Doc moves away from him when he feels my father’s aura rush out.

“Wait for what? You aren’t keeping this monstrosity. We can sweep it under the rug, no one has to know, and you can still take the Alpha position; we just need to take care of this poor choice, and then things can go back to normal,” my father says. He makes it sound so simple like this isn’t a sin against the Moon Goddess.

“No. I can’t do that, Father. Please, just let me speak with Mom. We can work this out,” I plead with him.

“No, you will terminate the pregnancy, then we go home. Doc, get whatever it is you need. I am not leaving this office until this is taken care of,” my father says.

I feel tears brimming at his words. Sure, I don’t want to be pregnant, but I am not a murderer; aborting a pregnancy is worse than having a child with someone who is not your mate.

“Alpha, I am afraid if your daughter isn’t willing, I can’t perform such a thing unless there is a medical reason.”

“She is willing, isn’t that right, Everly?” my father says, trying to force me to agree, but I meet his gaze head-on. My mind is made up; I won’t go through with it.

“No!” I tell him, not expecting his following reaction. In all my life, my father has never hit me, never raised a hand to me, and the shock of his action is more painful than the blow itself as his hand connects with the side of my face. I can feel the outline of his fingers etched into my cheek as a burning sensation spreads across it from his palm.

“Then you are no longer my daughter,” he says and walks out of the room.

Two

Eight months later

Loved ones come and visit the other mothers on the ward, gushing in excitement over their new bundles of joy, eagerly discussing their new additions to the family. The woman across from me is being doted on by her mate. The support he is showing her, the comfort, makes my heart twist painfully, knowing no one is excited to meet my son. No one is coming to check on me or offer support. No one cares for the boy suckling at my breast. Nobody is coming. It is just him and me against the world.

But that is ok. I will make it work.

The labor was excruciating. It was thirty-four hours and forty-five minutes of pure agony and no comfort, not even from the midwives. They were nothing but rude and mean, telling me to quit crying as I begged them to make the pain stop. I had never felt so vulnerable or alone as when I was in labor.

It was hard enough to grow up with the expectations of being the Alpha’s daughter, but then I got pregnant, shunned, and stripped of my title. All for one night. That one night turned my life upside down. How could he throw away his flesh and blood, his own daughter, over her falling pregnant?

How could anything so tiny and sweet be called a mistake?

Hearing the nurse come in, I look up. She grabs my chart from the end of the bed, looking it over before eyeing me. Glasses teeter on the end of her upturned nose. No one tries to hide their disgust; everyone looks down on me because I had a child with someone who isn’t my mate. That much is evident, that I have no mate because where is he? Not here beside me like the rest of those new mothers on the ward—my mate isn’t here gushing over this newborn baby in my arms.

“You really have no idea who the father is?” she asks, clicking her tongue. I know exactly who the father is, but the last thing I need is for him to hunt me down. I already had that run-in. A run-in I would much rather forget when I told him I was carrying his child.

He didn’t even remember me.

Doesn’t help that he's a rival pack Alpha. It's just easier pretending I don’t know. The shame I have brought my family for being pregnant is bad enough; my father would have killed me for the disrespect of foolishly getting into bed with the Blood Alpha.

I watch the nurse flick her red curly hair over her shoulder. “He is cute; shame his mother is a whore,” she sneers, and I see the points of her canines pressing beneath her gums as they protrude past her lips.

“Can I get some Tylenol?” I ask, ignoring her comment. I'm feeling a headache coming on. Besides, I've received multiple comments along the same lines since being here—I don’t feel the need to defend myself; there is no point. Nothing I say will make them look at me any differently.

“Sorry, can’t. It is not on your charts,” she says.

“It’s Tylenol. It’s not like I am asking for morphine,” I tell her.

“Doesn’t matter. It isn’t on your charts, so you will have to go without,” she says, dropping the chart on the table beside me. Most women heal directly after giving birth, but I haven’t shifted yet, so I have no such healing ability.

“Can I get something to eat at least?” I ask her. I am starving, and breastfeeding is making me ravenous.

“You came into the maternity ward after the dinner rounds, and breakfast is at 7 a.m.,” she tells me. I look at the clock and see it is only just after 8 p.m. I nod, knowing this nurse will not help in any way. Crap, every nurse here is horrible because of my situation. Sometimes, I wish I could leave this city, pretend to be human, and just go about my life with my son.

The nurse leaves, stopping at the blue curtain that divides the beds. “Did you even think of the repercussions for the father by having a child with someone who isn’t your mate? Did you think of the poor woman who finds her mate in him and one day learns he fathered an illegitimate child to some random she-wolf?”

Little did she know that I thought of that every day since learning I was pregnant, but it was his choice, too. I fight back the tears from her words as I stare down at my amber-eyed boy; those eyes are definitely from his father, from what I can remember at least. Mine are light bluish-gray.

I've just put my son down after he fell asleep in my arms when I see a nurse walk past. She stops and comes over to me when I wave to her. Her uniform is different; she must be the head midwife or someone higher up on the staff list. Long, pencil-straight hair hangs to her shoulders, slightly obscuring her name tag. I try to read the small writing under her name—Rita—but I can't quite make it out. She must be in her mid-twenties because she seems closer to my age. Well, not really. I am barely eighteen, but still, she looks nicer than the previous nurses. She picks up my chart, flicking through it.

“Is there somewhere I can get some water? Or maybe a cup of tea?” I ask, and she glares at me. My stomach drops. Maybe she isn’t so lovely after all.

She presses the buzzer behind my head, calling another nurse, yet she still hasn’t answered me. My son starts to stir, and I reach over and grab him out of his crib as another nurse comes in, my stomach cramping from the sudden movement.

“Why is she in here?” the head nurse asks, making me look at her.

I just had a baby. Why else? I think to myself.

The new nurse looks over at me. Her hands tremble slightly—this head midwife obviously instills fear in her colleagues.

“Get her to the unmated section. We don’t need her disturbing the mothers in this ward,” the woman says before turning her nose up at me and walking out. Turns out, Rita is a bitch, like the rest of them. I stare, disgusted by this hospital’s bedside manner. The girl in the curtained-off room beside me speaks.

“I knew something was up with her, Hun; her mate never visited her. No one has. Now I know why,” she says to her mate.

She's right. We are allowed one person with us constantly while in here. The girl next to me, her mate hasn’t left her side since I got here. The person across from me had multiple people come in during the night, and her mate also hasn’t left.

I try to ignore their mates gushing over them and tending to their every need while I sit here, getting nothing but sneers and judgment.

The bed moves as the nurse begins rolling me out of the room. Because I am sitting upright, I have to grab the bar that runs along the side to stop from falling back. She wheels me through the maternity ward before going down a corridor; I appear to be leaving the maternity unit altogether. The nurse finally stops at a curtained-off area and places the bed against the wall. The woman then turns on her heel and leaves.

“Wait, can I get some water?”

But she has already gone and didn’t even acknowledge my question.

“I wouldn’t bother. They won’t help us,” comes a voice before someone jerks the partitioning curtain away to reveal two other girls. One looks to be in her mid-twenties with long, curly dark hair and sparkling green eyes. The other girl is around sixteen, with her dark blonde hair tied into a messy bun on top of her head.

“My name is Macey,” the oldest of them says.

“Hi. Everly,” I reply.

“Her name is Zoe. Welcome to the shunned mothers club,” Macey chuckles before looking down at her baby. She sighs heavily.

“Don’t expect them to help; they won’t. Seriously, you’re best off getting out as soon as you can,” Macey tells me.

“But they are supposed to,” I tell her, feeling disheartened.

“Yeah, I have been here two days; baby has a few problems. Half the time, they don’t answer when I buzz, and forget about them feeding you. I haven’t received anything since being here,” Macey explains before reaching to the foot of her bed and pulling a bag toward her. She rummages through it before pulling out a granola bar.

“Here. You must be starving. I was, and I came prepared expecting this,” Macey explains.

“You had a baby before?” I ask, unable to imagine going through this again.

She shakes her head. “No, this is my first. My mom was a single mother, too. We are rogues like you,” she says.

I open the granola bar, my stomach growling at the sight of food.

“Boy or girl?” I ask the younger girl, who seems rather shy.

“Girl. Yours?”

“Boy,” I tell her.

“Thanks,” I tell Macey before biting into the granola bar.

“Plenty in there, just help yourself. I brought extras in case there were other girls. Which pack are you from? Your aura feels quite strong for a rogue?” she says, staring at me.

“Alpha blood,” I tell her. Her eyebrows raise in shock.

“In that case, you don’t have to tell me. I understand why you would want to keep that to yourself. Zoe was born rogue—so was I,” she says, and I glance at Zoe, who nods.

“If you don’t mind me asking, where are you girls living? Are there any refuges or anything for women?”

“I have a place at a refuge. But I know it’s full to capacity,” Zoe says, a look of sorrow etching her face as if she wishes she could help more.

“Me? I live with my mom and my brother,” Macey tells me.

“Where are you staying? No family would help?” Zoe asks.

I shake my head. “No. We will be alright. I will come up with something,” I tell them, hoping that will be true, though I have been living in my busted station wagon, which cost me $500 for the last eight months.

It saddens me that we are pushed aside, but the next day, both girls help me, for which I am grateful. Macey continues to share her food, and she was right—not once did anyone come to check on us, no food was brought to us, nothing. Shunned for having a baby, and we suddenly don’t matter anymore.

Three

Two weeks later

Tap, Tap, Tap.

I look up and see a man tapping on my car window, his flashlight shining in before he moves it around, looking in the back. I put my hand up when the light flashes across my face, blinding me. He quickly moves it to the side.

“Ma’am, you can’t stay here,” the middle-aged man tells me; he must be city security, judging by his uniform. My son—who I decided to name Valarian—stirs, the bright light waking him, and he lets out an irritated cry. The man moves his flashlight away entirely, shining it at the ground, and Valarian stops.

“Look, I've noticed your car here for nearly two weeks; this is a train station.” He sighs as I pick up my son out of his fruit box bed and roll down the window a bit so he doesn’t keep yelling, thinking I can’t hear him.

“You really have no place to go? No family?” he asks.

“No, the council kicked me out of the park,” I say matter-of-factly.

He sighs heavily and runs a hand down his face before glancing around the parking lot.

“What about the baby’s father?”

I shake my head, knowing that isn’t an option. He didn’t even believe me about the pregnancy—refused to see me, even when I begged him to let me show him the ultrasound pictures. Every time I tried to call after that, he hung up the moment he heard my voice. After a while, I gave up.

“You know there are people out there that would take him—then you could probably go home.”

“I am not abandoning my baby like my parents did me,” I tell him, outraged he would even suggest it.

“This is no life for a child. You’re young. If you give him up, you could have a normal life. Something to think about: I will give you another week to find somewhere else. After that, you need to move on,” he says, and I nod before winding the window up.

I watch him leave before settling my son and putting him back to bed in the fruit box beside me—I have always been paranoid about accidentally rolling on him while asleep. Tugging the blanket up over both of us, I try to get comfortable. Yet, all I can think is. This is not how I intended to bring my son into this world. I thought it would be different and that I would have figured out something by now. A single tear runs down my cheek as I think of his words. “This is no life for a child.” Am I being selfish?

However, the thought of giving him up breaks my heart. He is mine. I loved him and would give my life for my little man. Isn’t that enough? I can’t deny the bond between us.

Waking up the following day, I groan; it is pouring with rain. It's still early. I rummage through the back for my umbrella before slipping my shoes on. Making sure Valarian is bundled nice and warm, I grab my empty bucket in one hand and pop the umbrella up as I open the hatchback.

Sliding the bucket to the crook of my elbow, I raise the umbrella with the same hand. I then pick up my son in my free arm and make a run for it to the train station bathrooms, paying extra care not to slip on the wet ground. That would be disastrous. Once I get into the large, handicapped stall, I shove the bucket in the sink, filling it with warm water before shimming my pants down to pee. One thing I hate about being homeless is holding my son while going to the bathroom. I can’t place him down anywhere, making it hard to use the toilet while making sure not to drop him. When I finish, I slide my pants up with one hand, which is difficult while holding my son, then awkwardly wash my hand before turning the faucet off.

Now the tricky part—holding an umbrella, a newborn, and a now-full bucket of water. Somehow, I manage it and make it back to the car before placing the bucket down and quickly opening the hatchback to my wagon. I crawl in and set my son in his bed before hauling my tiny bucket in. Lathering my washcloth with soap, I give him a wash down before dressing him in a clean diaper and clothes so he's all nice and fresh for the day.

Using the remaining water, I also give myself a wash, longing for a shower. Gosh, I miss showering, something I definitely took for granted. I use the rest stop ones occasionally, but right now, I have no fuel to get there and can’t risk spending my limited funds.

When mom and dad kicked me out, I had a small amount of savings. I also worked at the Chinese restaurant on the main street while pregnant to keep saving. The savings didn’t last long with buying baby clothes and non-perishable food, though. And now that he's born, I've been spending money on diapers. Not to mention, since my milk dried up from stress and lack of nutrition before I left the hospital, I am forced to stock up on formula and bottled water too. My car looks like a mini supermarket, but I am starting to get low on the formula again. Rummaging through my wallet, I find my last $100. I need to think of something fast. This won’t see us through much longer.

Sighing, I lean back on my door, watching the rain. The restaurant won’t take me back—I tried that—and my parents obviously aren’t an option. His father wouldn’t even let me on pack territory when I requested to see him.

I still remember when I got his number to call him that first time; what a nightmare that was. He laughed and said there was no way he would sleep with a seventeen-year-old. To be fair, I was not supposed to be in that part of the club at the hotel. My sister and I wanted to meet the older Alphas, not the young ones that hadn’t even reached puberty. So with fake IDs, we snuck in while the meeting was going on in the conference hall. Alpha Valen was just as drunk as I was, so it's no wonder he can’t remember me. I barely remember anything. What I do remember is how I felt that night—the pull to him for some reason—and he must have felt it too. I know I didn’t imagine it.

Shaking the vague memory away, I grab a granola bar and start eating. My belly is rumbling. Oh, what I would do for a home-cooked meal. I love mom’s cooking. She's the best cook!

A tear slips down my cheek and I check my phone, yet I know I will find no missed calls. My father had it disconnected, but I like to look at the photos of when I was still part of the family. I miss my little sister—I wish I could see her, even just once more.

I spend most of the day just trying to figure out what I can do about money. The security guard’s words eat at me. “This is no life for a child.”

I am failing.

I need help and don’t know who to ask. When it starts to get dark, the five o’clock train pulls in. I try to light my candle so I can see in the growing darkness, but my lighter has finally run out of fuel. Popping the trunk to get out, I grab my umbrella and glance around, hoping to find someone smoking—someone approachable—to ask to borrow one.

“Excuse me, do you have a…”

The man in his tailored suit walks past, looking down at me. I try over and over again, ignored by everyone that passes. Feeling disheartened, I'm about to hop back in the car when I see a younger man in a neat suit.

I've seen him a few times. He catches the early train and is always home on the five o’clock train. He's always dressed nicely in suits that compliment his brownish-blond hair and green eyes, and his muscular build puts him a good foot taller than me.

The man stares at me warily as I approach, and I stop when I feel his aura—he has Beta blood. He looks familiar for some reason and I finally place him; he is one of the Betas from the Alpha meet. He's Beta to Alpha Valen. I pretend I don’t recognize him because he definitely doesn’t remember me, and I know he can’t feel my aura. I've been rogue for so long now, my aura is almost nonexistent. It doesn’t help that I still haven’t shifted. I want to, need to, but what do I do with my son?

“Can I borrow a lighter if you have one?” I blurt out quickly before he waves me away; everyone usually assumes I'm asking for money. He stops, staring at me for a second.

“Fine,” he says, rustling inside his pocket before handing me a green lighter. I run back to the car and light the candle that sits on a plate in my vehicle. Only, when I turn around, I find him behind me, having followed me the few yards back to my car.

I jump, not expecting him to be so close. “Thank you,” I tell him, passing it back. He nods, then begins to leave, walking around the side of my car just as my son cries out.