My Alpha mates Love

A story about a girl they all hate.

Victoria

I stood at the edge of the pack's territory, a vast expanse of untamed wilderness stretching as far as the eye could see. Towering pine trees whispered secrets in the wind, their branches reaching out like gnarled fingers. Moonlight bathed the forest floor in a silvery glow, casting mysterious shadows that danced and swayed with every rustle of leaves. The night was alive with unseen creatures, their calls echoing through the dense foliage.

Taking a deep breath, I braced myself against the chilly night air. The moon above shone with an otherworldly radiance, its fullness a reminder of the curse that had plagued me since birth. Born under a full moon, I was branded an abomination—a twisted symbol of ill fortune in the eyes of our Alpha. Superstition and fear had seeped into the very fabric of our pack, turning my existence into a constant battle against prejudice.

I ventured deeper into the pack's territory, the atmosphere grew heavy with an air of hostility. The murmurs of the pack members followed me like sinister whispers, their gazes filled with disdain and annoyance. I became the target of their scorn, the outlet for their frustrations and insecurities. But beneath their cruelty, I held on to a glimmer of hope, determined to defy their expectations.

Searching for a job became my lifeline—a chance to forge my own path and escape the clutches of their judgment. Each day, I scoured the town for opportunities, weaving through narrow streets lined with weathered buildings. The scent of damp earth mingled with the comforting aroma of freshly baked bread from a nearby bakery, teasing my senses as I pressed forward.

My footsteps echoed through the desolate streets as I made my way toward a cozy café nestled between a bookstore and a quaint flower shop. Warm light spilled out from its windows, beckoning me closer. Stepping inside, the gentle chime of the door greeted me, accompanied by the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

The café was a sanctuary of solace—a haven for dreamers and storytellers. Soft jazz music floated through the air, intermingling with the soft murmur of conversations and the clinking of cups. The walls were adorned with paintings of distant landscapes and vibrant cityscapes, capturing moments frozen in time. Patrons huddled in cozy corners, their faces illuminated by the warm glow of table lamps, lost in their own worlds.

Approaching the counter, I caught the eye of the manager, a middle-aged woman with a kind smile. Her eyes held a hint of curiosity as I handed her my resume, its crisp edges representing my hopes and aspirations. She scanned the paper, her gaze flickering with interest before meeting my eyes. There was a glimmer of understanding there, a silent acknowledgment of the battles I faced.

As I made my way home, the moon began its ascent, casting a silvery trail along the path before me. I walked with a mixture of weariness and determination, my steps guided by the ethereal glow above. The night was my confidante, the stars my silent witnesses.

Tomorrow, on my twenty second birthday, the moon would reveal my mate. It would mark a turning point in my life—a moment of truth and vulnerability. Would my mate be the missing piece, the solace amidst the chaos? Or would I be condemned to a fate of further isolation and heartache?

Under the moon's watchful gaze, I made a silent vow to myself. No matter the outcome, I would remain resolute, fighting against the tide of prejudice that had defined me for far too long. I would reclaim my destiny.

---

My apartment is a small refuge in the midst of the boredom that engulfs my life. As I turn the key in the worn lock, the familiar creak of the door welcomes me back to this haven I've carved out for myself.

The living room greets me with its serene ambiance, bathed in soft, muted tones. Against one wall rests a tattered yet cozy couch, its cushions bearing the imprints of countless moments of contemplation. Faded tapestries and old photographs adorn the walls, capturing fragments of memories that are both painful and cherished.

In the corner, a modest kitchenette stands as the heart of this humble abode. It's here that I find solace in the simplicity of preparing my meals, the scents of herbs and spices filling the air—a reminder of my determination to create something nourishing out of the limited ingredients I can afford.

But it's at my doorstep that a perplexing and unsettling occurrence mars the tranquility. Every day, as I approach my apartment, I'm greeted by a sight that stirs a mix of anger, confusion, and hurt. Rotten tomatoes, discarded and oozing with decay, lie scattered on the faded wooden planks. The putrid stench assaults my senses, a physical manifestation of the cruelty and hatred I face.

I can't fathom why people harbor such animosity toward me. These rotten tomatoes have become a sickening symbol of the disdain I encounter—a tangible reminder of the depths to which others are willing to sink to express their hatred. It's as if my mere existence is an affront to them, provoking them to lash out and cast me aside.

Every day, as I step over these discarded fruits of bitterness, I'm reminded of my status as an outcast, as someone who doesn't belong. The tomatoes stain the weathered wood, leaving behind a grotesque display of prejudice that I'm forced to confront day in and day out.

Entering my apartment, I carry the weight of injustice upon my shoulders. The tomatoes are just a visible manifestation of the deep-rooted hate that plagues me. My parents were executed on charges of treason, accused of collaborating with the rival Northern Shift pack. But their choices were not mine, and yet I bear the burden of their actions, unfairly labeled and judged.

Within the solitude of my apartment, I seek my own peace far from the world's harsh judgments. It's here that I shed the weight of society's prejudice, even if only for a brief moment. These walls remind me of my own worth, as I hold onto the flicker of hope that one day I'll be seen for who I truly am—a resilient young woman navigating a world that seems determined to tear me apart.

Or I could just be rich and force people to respect me.

currently proof reading, some changes might occur as I edit the story. Hope you enjoy.