Sable
Two years. Seven hundred and thirty moon cycles. That’s how long it takes to scrub a life clean.
The scent of old paper and dust has replaced the smell of pine and damp earth. The quiet hum of fluorescent lights is the new soundtrack to my life, a poor substitute for the chorus of crickets and the distant howl of a patrol.
My hands, once skilled at mapping patrol routes and identifying tactical weaknesses, now spend their days stamping due dates into the backs of books. My nights are for a different kind of training. Sweat and bruises are a language I understand. The sharp crack of a wooden staff hitting a practice dummy is a satisfying punctuation to the end of a long, quiet day.
It’s a small life. A solitary one. But it is mine.
Tonight, the air is thick and heavy, promising a storm. I lock the library doors behind me, pulling my hoodie up against the damp chill. The walk to my small apartment is short, a route I could navigate in my sleep. But tonight, I’m not alone.
He stands under the flickering orange glow of a streetlight, a silhouette of impossible stillness. He doesn’t look like he belongs here among the cracked pavement and brick buildings. He looks like he belongs to the forest. To the moon.
My hand instinctively goes to the pocket of my jacket, where I keep a small, heavy canister of mace laced with wolfsbane. A rogue’s best friend.
He doesn’t move as I approach, his eyes tracking me. There’s no aggression in his stance, just a calm, waiting power that sets every nerve in my body on high alert. I haven’t felt an Alpha’s presence in two years. It feels like a forgotten pressure on my lungs.
“Sable Vance?” His voice is low, a gravelly rumble that seems to vibrate in the humid air.
I stop a few feet away, keeping my distance. “I don’t know who that is.”
A small, almost sad smile touches his lips. “You can build walls around your life, but you can’t erase your name.”
“Who are you?” I ask, my voice hard.
“My name is Kael. I’m the Alpha of the Obsidian Shadow pack.”
My blood runs cold. A pack Alpha. Here. For me. “I’m not interested in whatever you’re selling. I’m rogue. I don’t deal with packs.”
“I know,” he says, taking a half step forward. I flinch back, and he immediately stops. He holds his hands up in a gesture of peace. “I’m not here to drag you back to a life you left behind. I’m here because of how you left it.”
I stare at him, confused. “What are you talking about?”
“Stories travel, Sable. Even about a wolfless girl. A Beta’s daughter who walked away from everything to protect her family. A girl who chose exile over letting her pack fracture.” He lowers his hands, his gaze intense. “That’s a different kind of strength. A kind I respect.”
The words throw me off balance more than any physical threat could. No one has ever called my retreat an act of strength. They called it a tragedy. A shame.
“What do you want?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper.
“I want to make you an offer. No strings. No obligations. Come visit my pack. See our territory. Meet my people. If you hate it, I’ll drive you back here myself and you’ll never see me again.”
I laugh, a harsh, rusty sound. “Why? Why would an Alpha seek out a wolfless rogue?”
“Because my pack is new,” he says simply. “We aren’t built on old bloodlines and outdated ideas of what power looks like. We’re built on resilience. On loyalty. Qualities I hear you have in abundance. I thought you might… fit.”
I search his face for a lie, for the trick. I find nothing but a steady, unnerving sincerity. My loneliness is a hollow ache in my chest, a constant companion. For two years, no one has looked at me and seen anything but a quiet librarian or a decent sparring partner. This man, this stranger, looks at me and sees a survivor.
It is the most dangerous thing that has happened to me since my eighteenth birthday.
“One day,” I say, the words tasting foreign on my tongue. “I’ll visit for one day.”
A genuine smile breaks across his face, transforming him from a formidable Alpha into someone startlingly handsome. “That’s all I ask.”
The drive is silent. We leave the city lights behind, and the trees begin to close in around the road. With every mile, the ache of the broken bond with Damon, a phantom limb I’ve learned to ignore, pulses with a dull, resentful throb.
We arrive as dusk bleeds into night. The Obsidian Shadow territory is not what I expected. There are no imposing walls or formal gates. The buildings are woven into the forest itself, made of dark wood and stone, with warm light spilling from the windows. The air thrums with life. It’s not the tense, formal energy of Silvermoon. It’s vibrant. Laughter drifts on the breeze, and the scent of a communal cook fire hangs in the air.
It feels like a home.
The thought is so terrifying I almost ask him to turn around.
Kael leads me toward the largest of the buildings, a longhouse with a porch full of people who greet him with easy smiles. They look at me with curiosity, but not pity. Not judgment.
“Hungry?” he asks, gesturing toward the fire.
I shake my head, my throat too tight to speak. My eyes are drawn upward, through a break in the canopy. The moon is climbing the sky. Full. Perfect.
And then it happens.
A jolt, sharp and electric, shoots up my spine. It’s not pain. It’s power. A raw, searing energy that has been sleeping in my blood for two decades.
I gasp, stumbling back a step. My vision swims. The sounds of the pack fade into a dull roar.
“Sable?” Kael’s voice is distant. He reaches for me, his hand on my arm.
The moment he touches me, the power erupts. It’s a volcano, a wildfire, a tidal wave of pure, primal force. It claws at me from the inside, demanding release. My bones feel like they are turning to liquid fire. My muscles scream as they are pulled and twisted into an unfamiliar shape.
I fall to my knees, a cry tearing from my throat. It is not a human sound.
Something inside me, something I never knew existed, is breaking free.
And it is howling.
