Chapter One: How Packs Work:

In wolf packs, strength and perfection are paramount. If a cub is born with a deformity, it is often killed to prevent the pack from being weakened. I was born with one leg slightly shorter than the other and was the runt among my triplet siblings. My mother, a formidable Alpha and Luna, did not expect triplets, only twin boys. I arrived unexpectedly after my brothers, frail and on the brink of death. I have always felt like a burden to the pack. It was my father who ensured my survival with medical assistance, even though my mother was in poor health during my birth. Chaos marked my entry into the world.

One of my older brothers despised me for my flaws. According to pack customs, he believed I should have been sacrificed at birth. At times, the pack's treatment makes me wish I had been killed at birth. Were it not for my eldest triplet, Ezra, who has consistently supported me, I might have succumbed to despair.

My mother, much like her own, was exceptionally fertile, but her fertility manifested in an unusual way: she gave birth to triplets each time. I am one of the first set of triplets out of four, making us twelve siblings in total. Yet, among my siblings, I am the only one who is not tall, strong, or perfect.

My mother is the embodiment of perfection: beautiful, tall, blonde, a fierce warrior, an Alpha, a skilled security expert, exceptional in everything she does. I am none of those things; I didn't inherit her traits. Instead, I got my father's black hair, my mother's blue eyes, and inexplicably, I am short. Many in the pack whisper that I'm a curse. I don't know, maybe they're right.

I have never met my mother's expectations of strength. My parents are too occupied with the responsibilities of not just our pack but also others to grasp the daily agony I endure.

Until it was time for school, I felt like Tiny Tim from the Christmas carol, always perched on my father's shoulders. My mother frequently complained that they were not helping me grow strong. But once school began, my parents were always too busy. Occasionally, I would receive a hug, but with so many siblings by then, I felt lost in the bunch.

From the start, life burdened me with my mother's witchy powers, which she never used and saw as a curse. She believed they brought only destruction and, although she didn't bind my powers as hers had been in childhood, she forbade me from using them. Instead, she insisted we focus solely on being the best and strongest wolves we could be. However, being a weak wolf left me defenseless against my abusive brother, Enzo, and his cronies. Although both my mother and I are hybrids, the pack respected her because she refrained from using her powers and, together with my father, they were strong wolves. I am not.

My grandfather, the illegitimate son of the King of Warlocks and Wizards and a hybrid wolf, often argued with my mother about training me in my powers. However, she refused to allow it and wouldn't even permit me to visit him unsupervised. I love Grandfather Marcellus deeply, the one person who utterly understands me, my mother feared he would defy her wishes and train me regardless in magic.

Ezra and I were abandoned by our best friend Jason, who chose to join Enzo's Cool Crowd instead. I always loved Jason the future Alpha of the Healer pack, but his betrayal left me wary of any friendship or relationship.

How forlornly I remember just before we turned ten, Jason and I would race through the woods and hide by the lake from our parents, with Ezra always by our side.

I remember Jason holding my hand as we walked through the woods at the age of nine, promising that when we grew up, we would be inseparable, and he would always protect and stay by my side. Yet, everything changed on his tenth birthday, and I still don't understand why.

Now, reflecting on those golden days, a part of me longs to unravel what changed in Jason's heart, what made him drift away from us and toward Enzo and his rough band of friends. As the leader of the thugs, Enzo seemed to revel in challenges that were darker, more thrilling, and frankly, more dangerous than our innocent games by the lake.

There was a particular day, shortly after Jason's tenth birthday, when the woods we loved seemed different somehow, shadowed by an unspoken division. I can still recall the cool mist clinging to my skin as I watched Jason standing at a distance, his figure blurred slightly by the fog. Ezra and I had been waiting at our usual spot near the lake, anticipating Jason's bounding arrival through the thicket of trees, but instead, Enzo emerged, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Jason's with us now," Enzo had declared, his voice laced with a challenge. "He's got better things to do than hang out with kids." His words pierced through the chilly air like shards of ice.

Ezra, who had always been more confrontational than I was, stepped forward, his jaw clenched. "What do you mean by that, Enzo? He’s our friend.”

Enzo laughed, a short, harsh sound that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Things change, Ezra. People grow up. Maybe you should try it sometime." Now, as I look back, I find it strange that he claimed they had grown up, considering we were all just ten years old.

Jason approached Ezra and me with contempt in his eyes. "You two are weak losers," he declared. "I've decided to be Enzo's best friend. Don't come near me again!" With that, he turned and sided with Enzo.

I remember how my heart sank, the way the trees seemed to close in around us. Ezra was fuming, but I felt only an overwhelming sense of loss. We stood there, the mist around us almost eerie, as Enzo turned and disappeared back into the woods, leaving us in a stunned silence.

The days that followed were a blur of confusion and hurt. I saw Jason occasionally at school, always surrounded by Enzo and the rest of his new friends. The look in his eyes was different, guarded and cool, as if a veil had been drawn between us. I ached for our lost friendship, the way things used to be. Yet, through all those changes, I held out hope that the Jason I knew, the one who promised to always be by my side, was still there, somewhere beneath this new facade.

One afternoon as autumn painted the leaves in fiery shades of orange and red, I made my way alone to our old meeting spot by the lake. The air was crisp, filled with the earthy scent of damp foliage. I sat on the moss-covered rock where Jason and I once shared secrets and dreams, and let the memories wash over me.

Suddenly, the rustling of leaves alerted me to someone's presence. Heart pounding, I turned, half-expecting, half-hoping it to be Jason. It was, however, Ezra, his eyes reflecting a mixture of anger and sadness.

"He's not the same, Es," Ezra said, his voice low, sitting beside me. "" You just need to give up on him sis."

Jason was my true mate, but being a few months older, I understood he likely hadn't realized it yet. So, I endured his insults, hoping the tide would eventually shift to love, which never came.

Jason gave me emotional whiplash; one day, he was meaner than a bull after a matador, and the next, when Enzo wasn't around, he'd show me kindness.

Soon, I will leave this pack and never look back. Deep down, I know I don’t truly belong here.

I confided in my grandfather, Marcellus, and he made me promise to inform him first should I decide to run away. We sealed this promise with magic over the phone. My mother might prevent me from visiting him, but she couldn’t control whom I called or dictate every part of my life.

Everyone needs to feel love, appreciation, kindness, acceptance, and security. I have felt none of these in my pack. Before I set out on my journey, my grandfather made me promise to meet him at the old cabin in the mountains, where he would provide the magical training I so desperately needed. I will keep my promise if I get the courage to run away.

Driven by my solitary love for books, I longed to embark on an adventure to the places I had only read about, daring to venture into the imposing realm of humans. We wolves feared them, for they hunted us, so we stayed huddled in packs deep within the safety of the woods.

However, the more I poured over the pages of ancient myths and tales of daring, the stronger the itch to explore became. I dreamed of cities cloaked in the noise of progress and forests untouched by wolf or man. As autumn deepened and the first frost edged the leaves, my resolution hardened. I would leave and seek out my grandfather, the only one who seemed to believe in my potential.

The turning point of whether I would go rogue depended on Jason's birthday, the moment he would realize that I was his true mate, the one the goddess had destined for him. I hoped with all my heart that he would finally choose me over his girlfriend, Brianna.

I've often dreamed of the day he acknowledges me as his mate. I imagine walking into his house, wearing a stunning golden dress, my dark hair styled in an elegant Egyptian updo. Our eyes would meet, his mouth agape in wonder, and together, we'd both whisper, "Mate."

Jason regards me with the same disdain that my brother Enzo does. I recall when I was around twelve years old, Enzo took it upon himself to train me in combat. My mother believed that since his fighting style was so aggressive, his training might make me more assertive. I fought with everything I had; in fact, it nearly cost me my life. We both ended up in the infirmary, and I narrowly escaped death. Enzo was forbidden from ever training me again.

The incident had deepened the chasm between Enzo and me, cementing it with resentment and a heavy dose of distrust. Our mother, though not the best peacemaker, tried to heal the rift between us, but reconciliation seemed impossible. Enzo hated that I even existed. And Jason? As always, he sided with Enzo, leaving me to lick my wounds in solitude. Ezra was my sole comfort during those days, patiently listening to my rants long into the night, his gentle nods soothing my frayed nerves.

But life in a werewolf pack waits for no one, not even a heartbroken teenage girl with fading battle scars. As weeks turned into months, I grew more aware of my surroundings, more attuned to the undercurrents swirling through our pack. I knew that no one in the pack wanted me; to them, I was a symbol of weakness, a curse they were forced to bear.

If Jason turns rejects me as his mate, then I will turn my back on the pack and leave. Heaving a deep sigh, I leaned against the old oak tree at the edge of our territory, the bark rough against my back. The coldness of the air mirrored the chill wrapping around my heart.

"Gonna just stare at that line all day, or are you planning to actually cross it?" The voice, edged with sarcasm yet undeniably familiar, pulled me from my conflicted thoughts.

Turning my head slightly, I saw Ezra approaching, his hands buried in the pockets of his jeans, his eyebrows knitted in concern. "Can't decide if I'm ready to face whatever comes after," I admitted, the words feeling like stones in my throat.

Ezra stood next to me and said, "Come on, sis, let's go home. Tomorrow is another day."

In my mind, I added, "Another day of torture."

We walked home, side by side. As the muted colors of dusk began to paint the sky, the silhouettes of the denser woods thinned as we approached the heart of our pack's territory. The comforting scent of pine and earth grew stronger, soothing the jagged edges of my anxiety, but couldn't displace the undercurrent of fear about facing Jason and the consequences of his potential rejection.

Ezra's voice sliced through my spiraling thoughts, soft yet firm, almost like a lifeline I didn't know I needed. "Hey, Esme," he said, his tone brimming with quiet confidence. "Whatever happens, I've got your back. You and me, we're in this together."

I forced a smile, trying to absorb his reassurance. "Thanks, Ezra. It's just... so hard. After everything with Jason... How did we end up here? He was my friend."

Ezra glanced down, his footsteps deliberate against the underbrush, as if mulling over his words. "People change," he murmured, each word heavy with unspoken history.

"Esme, maybe we should just forget about Jason. It's been six years," my brother said with a heavy sigh, his voice laced with both concern and resignation.

I avoided his gaze, my heart aching with the truth I couldn't yet share. My voice barely above a whisper, I replied, "I can't, Ez. I just... can't."