Fake Vow, True Luna

Olivia

It's Christmas. The coldest and my favorite holiday. After working almost nonstop for 72 hours for the restaurant's holiday campaign, I was declared fired. Nowhere to go.

“Olivia. Give me your apron.”

My eyes widened as my boss’s cold words silenced the kitchen. It came out of nowhere, and when I turned to look at him, it was clear that he wasn’t making a joke or playing a prank on me. His aging, stern face looked entirely indifferent as he held out his hand for my apron.

“W-Why?” I asked, feeling the weight of the silence of my coworkers.

My boss didn’t even answer. He just held his hand out for me still and blinked slowly at me with an expectant look on his face.

As I untied my apron, my hands shook and my eyes began to well up with tears. Around me, I could hear my coworkers — ex-coworkers now, I guessed — snickering about what was happening.

I slowly handed my boss my apron. He snatched it out of my hand and calmly walked out of the kitchen, leaving the door swinging in his stead while a single tear rolled down my cheek. That apron was the only symbol of belonging I had; this job was the one thing keeping me from starving to death.

“She’s so stupid,” I heard one of my coworkers, a fellow waitress named Emily, whisper behind my back. “Anyone who thinks that the capitalists are their family should learn their lesson soon enough.”

“I guess the boss’ brainwashing really got to her,” one of the cooks, a middle-aged man named John, said. He didn’t even try to keep his voice low. They knew that I could hear them, and they didn’t care.

Before they could see me cry, I yanked my jacket off of the hook and burst out of the restaurant. I stumbled into the brick alleyway, already shivering from the cold winter air.

“Ryan will help me,” I whispered to myself as I put my coat on and stormed away. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and sniffled sadly while I dialed his number. But the phone just rang… and rang… and went to voicemail.

Hey, you’ve reached Rya—

Cursing, I hung up and resisted the urge to smash my phone. Of course my boyfriend didn’t answer. He hadn’t been answering my calls or texts for a week now, and it was stupid of me to think that he would suddenly answer now, when I really needed help.

As I walked down the street, I passed by the rows of shops that were filled with excited holiday shoppers and happy families. Despite the cold, these people were warm because of their families and their lovers.

And I had no one.

My boyfriend, who had wanted me first when we started dating, ghosted me out of nowhere and couldn’t even be decent enough to officially break up with me. My pack evicted my father and I ten years prior. My father died, leaving me alone.

I was hopeless. This year, the holidays were going to be worse than ever, and I didn’t even have so much as a shoulder to cry on. Life really had hit rock bottom.

Suddenly, as I shivered in the cold beneath my thin jacket, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. My heart leaped in my chest — “Ryan?” I whispered, pulling my phone out.

But it wasn’t Ryan. It wasn’t a number that I recognized; in fact, it was probably a scam call. I was desperate, though, and answered just on the extremely rare off chance that maybe — just maybe — it would be some good news.

“Hello?” I answered, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk and nearly being bowled over by a group of teen girls who were happily swinging their shopping bags back and forth and who were snickering about my ratty winter coat.

“Is this Olivia?” a male voice said on the other end.

“Um… Yes,” I responded. “Who is this?”

“I’m calling from your former pack,” the male voice said. “It’s about your eviction.”

Suddenly, I felt sick. Why was my old pack calling me? I hadn’t spoken to anyone from that pack in years; the last time I saw any of them was when my dad and I got kicked out by the Alpha for no real reason. This had to be some sort of sick joke.

“What about it?” I asked. I almost considered just hanging up, but I had to admit that I was somewhat curious.

“Your eviction order has been lifted, effective immediately,” the man said in a warm tone of voice. “You may return any time you wish.”

My eyes widened. “R-Really?” I asked. “Can I come back now?”

The man paused. “Like I said, you can return any time you wish,” he said.

I felt like jumping for joy. A cheer almost escaped my lips, but I clapped my hand over my mouth just in time. The man started to say something else, but suddenly a group of Christmas carolers started singing loudly right beside me, and I couldn’t hear him

“Sorry, sorry,” I said, ducking into another alleyway so I could hear her. “What were you saying?”

The man chuckled. “I said that the Alpha is also getting married,” he said. “And you’re invited.”

“Oh.” I scrunched my eyebrows together. It was odd for the Alpha to invite someone like me to his wedding. I was already a low status werewolf before my dad and I got evicted, and now I was even lower as someone who was just allowed back in the pack.

“Are you sure he meant to invite me?” I asked.

“Yes,” the man replied with another laugh. “You’re Olivia Wild, are you not?”

“I-I am,” I said sheepishly. “If you don’t mind me asking, who is the new Alpha? It just feels odd—”

“Nathan Ford.”

At the mention of my old friend Nathan’s name, my eyes went even wider than before. My joy was immediately replaced with utter shock. I hadn’t talked to Nathan in years, not since he stood by idly and allowed the old Alpha to expel me and my dad.

And now he was not only the new Alpha of our pack, but he was also getting married?

I did want to go back to the place that I left ten years before. After all… I didn’t have anywhere else to go, did I? And besides: I missed my old home. The thought of going back and starting over made my heart feel light.

“Um… Thank you,” I said. “I’d be happy to come back.”

————

My only remaining relative was my aunt, who owned a villa. My aunt was an eccentric older woman. She didn’t have any children of her own; in fact, I was pretty sure that she just didn’t even like children to begin with. She was always indifferent toward me, and after my dad and I were evicted from the pack, she never tried to contact either of us.

I would have preferred not to go to her for help, considering the fact that we were never close. But it was freezing cold out, it was getting late, and I had nowhere else to go.

As I made my way down the street, my aunt’s villa slowly came into view at the end of the street and instantly filled me with an overwhelming sense of nostalgia.

I walked up to the tall wrought iron gate and pushed on it.

It swung open with a loud creak.