Destined for the Alpha

Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

The rhythmic thumping of drums echoes through the woods as lanterns sway gently between the trees. It's the Clear Creek pack's Spring Festival, a time when the scent of blossoms and promise fills the air. Through the throng of dancing bodies and jubilant howls, I move like a shadow, unseen and silent. The energy is infectious, but I hold it at arm’s length, afraid to let it seep into my bones.

"Grace! Over here!" Lucas's voice cuts through the revelry, clear and warm. He waves at me from a booth draped in wildflowers, his smile like the break of dawn. My heart leaps into my throat. For a moment, he makes me forget that I'm the pack's oddity, the girl who can't shift, whose parents are no longer by her side.

"Hi," I muster, stepping closer. The way his eyes crinkle tells me I'm welcome, and it's a balm to the constant ache of inadequacy.

"Try this," he offers, handing me a skewer of grilled meat. His fingers brush mine, sending a jolt of electricity up my arm. "I won it at the strength challenge. Figured you'd prefer this over watching us show off."

"Thank you," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. Is there a hint of something more in his gesture? I dare not hope for too much, yet I can't help the small smile that plays on my lips.

"Grace," Lucas begins, leaning in. His scent—pine and earth after rain—envelops me. "You know, I've always admired—"

"Lucas!" A she-wolf with fur the color of autumn leaves interrupts, her voice melodic. She places a hand on his arm, her laughter mingling with the festival's ambiance. "That last round was exhilarating, wasn't it?"

"Elara," Lucas greets her, his attention swiveling to the newcomer as if pulled by an invisible thread. My heart sinks. He turns back to me, his brow furrowed, but Elara tugs on his arm again, whispering something that ignites a spark in his eye. Her touch is confident, possessive.

"Sorry, Grace, pack duties call." He gives me an apologetic grin before allowing himself to be led away by Elara, his laughter now part of their private conversation.

I watch them go, the skewer in my hand forgotten. The noise of the festival dulls to a hum. Lucas, the one member of the pack who never treated me differently, now seems just as captivated by another she-wolf as everyone else. The brief flare of connection fizzles out, leaving me cold amidst the celebration of spring.

As the festival continues around me, alive with the vibrant pulse of my pack, I stand there, rooted to the spot, the taste of grilled meat turning to ash in my mouth.

Pain clenches my chest, sharp and unyielding, as the laughter and chatter of the festival grow distant with each step I take. The ground beneath me feels unstable, a reflection of the turmoil churning inside. I stumble away from the heart of the celebration, the bright lanterns and the scent of wildflowers becoming fainter, replaced by the earthy smell of the surrounding forest.

"Grace?" The concern in Lucas's voice stops me mid-step. I didn't realize he'd followed until his hand lightly touches my arm. My skin tingles at the contact, belying the hurt that has burrowed deep within me.

"Are you okay?" His brown eyes search mine, filled with a warmth that once made me feel seen, special even.

"Perfectly fine," I manage to say, my voice betraying none of the ache that's lodged itself in my throat. "Just needed some air, that's all."

"Grace," he says softly, stepping closer, "if this is about Elara—"

"Lucas," I interrupt, the word slicing through the space between us. "You don't have to explain. You're the Gamma; it's natural for you to mingle with everyone." I force a laugh that sounds hollow to my own ears. "Especially during the Spring Festival."

He looks unconvinced, his gaze lingering on my face as if trying to read the secrets I'm not willing to reveal. The distance between us feels like an insurmountable wall, one built by my own insecurities and the stark reality of our differences within the pack.

"Grace, you're important to me," he starts, but I shake my head, unwilling to let him see how much his words cut through me.

"Lucas, please," I whisper, my voice strained. "I just want to be alone right now."

For a moment, he seems like he might protest, but then he nods, the lines of his face etched with regret. "If you need anything—"

"I'll find you at the festival," I finish for him, my attempt at a smile feeling more like a grimace.

He hesitates, then reluctantly lets go of my arm. I watch as he turns back towards the festivities, the pull of pack duties visible in his tense shoulders. Alone, I slip further into the sanctuary of the trees, their shadows offering solace from the sting of rejection, real or imagined.

With every step, the sounds of the festival fade until all I can hear is the rustling of leaves and my own uneven breaths. The moon above weaves through the branches, casting a silver glow that should've felt magical. Instead, it's a reminder of what I cannot be—a true shifter, embraced by the pack, worthy of the Gamma's affection.

"Stupid," I mutter to myself, leaning back against the rough bark of an oak. "Why did you ever think he could look at you the way he looks at her?"

The question hangs unanswered in the cool night air as I sink to the ground, the weight of loneliness pressing down on me. The festival carries on without me, its joy a stark contrast to the sorrow that has taken root in my heart.