Immature Assholes.

Felix and I tear through the roads outside our pack lands, engines roaring in the night. His lime green bike stands out like a neon sign in the dark, while my sleek black one blends right into the shadows. He’d installed microphones in our helmets, something wolves don’t usually need, but I still didn’t have a wolf, and he’d taught me to ride long before it was legal. Only around the pack lands, of course.

“Take a left up here. I’ll show you where to go tomorrow.” His voice crackles through the mic.

I follow close behind, weaving through the curves as if we built the road ourselves. It only takes about twenty minutes before the Red Moon pack’s front gates come into view. Their perimeter lights glow bright enough to be seen from the highway.

“You’ll have access tomorrow,” Felix says. “Take the road straight through town. You won’t miss their pack house. It’s massive.”

“What, bigger than ours?”

“Much bigger. Alpha Charles has four sons, plus his daughter.”

“Four? That’s excessive. Which one is the future Alpha?”

“All of them. They’re quadruplets.”

I snort. That feels like a cosmic joke.

We ride for another hour, just cruising and burning through the last of the night. Felix gives me a rundown on the Red Moon pack and their infamous Playboy heirs. All four of them. It’s sad, honestly. I always imagined waiting for my mate, someone who shares my morals. Not all wolves are the same, though. I just hope whoever fate has lined up for me isn’t an arrogant manwhore.

When I wake the next morning, my room is still dark. My space is small but comfortable, though I keep it bare. No personal photos, no decorations. Just a bed, a dresser, and a corner where my weapons sit. I don’t like settling. I sleep, I get out, I move on. Sitting still has never made me feel safe. The sun won’t rise for another hour, and that's perfect for me. Enough time to eat something small, then head to the training fields. I like having the world to myself while the sky is still navy. No eyes on me. No whispers behind my back. No one waiting to taunt me. The immature assholes at school have slowed down in recent years, mostly because my kill count has gone up, but that doesn’t stop the crowd entirely. The kids with families, with status, with money. The ones who mistake privilege for personality. I’ve learned to stay out of their way.

I finish my last cool-down lap just as the biggest asshole of them all strolls into the field like he owns every blade of grass. Technically, he kind of does. Zion, he's the future Alpha, heir to everything.

“Well, well. Look who it is.”

He steps directly into my path. I attempt to sidestep him, but he already has his wolf. He’s faster, and he knows it. He sticks his leg out at the last second. I trip and slam into the ground hard enough that my palms sting and my knees crack against the dirt.

“You should really watch where you’re going.” He snickers above me.

“Thanks for the advice,” I grit out, and the bastard smirks like he’s proud of himself.

He holds out a hand as if he actually wants to help, but I ignore him and push myself to my feet.

“Wouldn’t kill you to be grateful,” he says. “Considering my family let you stay on our lands.”

I clench my jaw. He’s always had a problem with me. Says I’m practically a rogue his family took pity on. Like I had any say in being dumped here as a baby, I brush off my hands and check my knees. Torn skin, blood everywhere. Perfect. I glance at my watch; there are only fifteen minutes until my shift, and I know the guards won’t complain if I start early. I turn to leave, but his hand shoots out and clamps around my arm. Hard. That bruise will be nice later.

“You should fix that before you go anywhere. Let me help.”

“Get lost, Zion.” I yank my arm free.

He mutters something, but I don’t bother to listen. I grab my bag, pull on my tights over my gym shorts, strap on my thigh sheaths, secure my waist belt and back harness, and make sure every weapon is in precisely the right place. Then I head out for patrol.

The morning patrol is painfully uneventful, which is fine with me. It gives me time to loop a few extra laps and cool off before school. School is always hell. There’s no escaping the crowd, only avoiding them. I have their schedules memorised better than my own. Thankfully, I’m in advanced classes, so inside the classroom I’m safe because assholess don't seem to be smart enough to get into those classes. Technically, I’ll graduate this year. I’m only in my second last year, but I’ve pushed myself ahead. Alpha Marcus told me I can choose whether I stay with my peers or finish early. He’s never noticed how the pack treats me, but I don’t blame him. He has bigger problems to worry about than packhouse brats being assholes to an orphan. I’m aiming to leave halfway through the year. I’ve already applied for medical school and a handful of online courses. Sharlene, our pack doctor, promised I can do my on-field training with her whenever I’m ready. I’ve saved enough money that even without a scholarship, I can make it work.

I open my locker to grab my books for my first class. Right on cue, Cindy and her gaggle of twats arrive. Their lockers, unfortunately, are right beside mine. One daily encounter I can never seem to outrun.

“Oh my god, she stinks!” Cindy shrieks.

“It must be an orphan thing,” another girl adds.

“You’re right. No one ever taught her how to shower. Aww, how sad.”

I roll my eyes, slam my locker shut, and walk straight through their cluster, forcing them to part.

“Oh my god, eww! Cindy has orphan germs!”

I swear they reached their mental peak at five years old. But this is the girl apparently destined to be the next Luna. Bleached blonde hair, fake tits, a brain full of helium, and a mean streak she mistakes for confidence. Some days, I genuinely pray the Moon Goddess has a sense of humour.