Chapter 2

Santo is not a nice guy. None of them are. He walks around surrounded by his sub pack, looks down at the likes of us, and never makes eye contact or responds to anyone below his station. That’s how it works here. Dominance and strength are everything to wolves. He has his father’s arrogance, and he knows that every female hitting puberty is craving to become his mate. He hasn’t officially paired or marked yet, and despite having the same girl always by his side, he’s fair game until he does.

Faultlessly good-looking in that dark Latino, pretty boy way with far too handsome a face. He’s over six feet of muscle and radiates aggression without trying, and is a rare black-furred wolf on turning, one of the largest among us. I think the one time he acknowledged my existence was the day he pushed me out of his way in passing. I tripped in front of him in the hallway to the great hall, and he didn't bat an eye or miss a step in shoving me back aggressively like I was a lightweight piece of trash. All the girls laughed at me when I landed on my ass and skidded back into the trashcan, and I’ve made sure to never get in his way again.

Not that we have much time in the same place. I live in the orphanage and go to the school built purely for our kind, away from ‘normal’ people. He was ahead of me by one year, so we didn't often cross paths in all that time, and since he lives with his pack on the south side of the mountain, only coming to the shadowy north when required, I never see him or any of his subordinates. Like all the rest of the people who avoid the ‘Rejects.’

After the Great War, our people moved from all surrounding areas and convened nearer the mountain. Keeping close to stay protected and no one ever left again. His father is the unofficial Dominant Alpha and likes to check in with all on the mountain when he sees fit. Since Colton graduated from school, we only see him for official visits at his father’s side. Lording over their newfound kingdom of obedient and submissive packs, keeping law and order.

Rumor has it the vampires have been brewing and gathering for several months, maybe even years, to regain numbers and launch a new war on our kind. We always knew they would. I mean, we won the battle, but we didn't defeat them in the way we wanted. Many survived and fled and have been out there for almost ten years, recovering from it and licking their wounds. It's been quiet for so long, eerily so, but there is so much unease and unrest in the air that the packs called together a meeting a month back to decide the fate of our future. Trouble stirring, and we could all feel it, our senses on high alert and that vibe that something huge was coming. They think coming together to create one pack and one unity is the answer to a brewing war. Not that it changes much, as we have been living almost that way for a decade.

We were never united before under one Alpha, though. We fought as separate packs, and it almost wiped us out. There was no leadership, and it meant packs like mine, known for peaceful living and farming, were virtually annihilated. Many of our kin never returned, and it forever changed those who did. Those like me, who lost everyone, my parents, grandparents, uncles, and my brother, are shunned by people who like to pretend it never happened. My family was lost, none of them came back, and therefore, in the eyes of the pack hierarchy ... my bloodline is weak. They don't want to claim us as their kind anymore, and they sure as hell don’t want us procreating and spreading our genes to future wolves.

Warriors came home. The weak did not.

We were never ready for it.

They were farmers; they were peaceful and had never had to fight in their lives. Like human legends and stories dictate, not all wolves are savage killing machines or feral beasts. Some are quiet, land-loving people who never want to experience the thrill of a hunt or the warm blood of another being in raw savagery. In a whirlwind of months, we were dragged into a battle to the death, and children were left in the care of the old and frail or the pregnant.

We waited endlessly to find out who of our loved ones would come home to us until one lone night. When the people who cared for me in their absence, the last of the Whytes who were too vulnerable to follow them, were slaughtered by invading vampires in our own homes. On the far edge of the farmlands, I was a lone survivor who was then shunted to the orphanage. The events of that night are so foggy and hazy. I don’t really remember it or why I was even spared. I was just a child.