Chapter 3 Chapter 3

Her eyes flashed, a hint of wolf showing through. "That boy has been trying to make amends for years, Imogen. You're the one who won't give him the chance."

"Because I don't owe him forgiveness!" The words burst out of me, louder than I meant them to be. "I don't owe any of them anything."

Grandmother studied me for a long moment. "No," she finally said. "You don't. But…”

I cut her off, “No buts, and I’m done with all three of them.”

Grandmother stood up slowly, her movements carrying that particular weight that meant she was about to say something I didn't want to hear.

"Fine," she said, smoothing down her skirt. "But I won't apologise for caring about your safety."

After she left, I flopped onto my bed and stared at the ceiling. The afternoon light streaming through my window had that golden quality that meant sunset was getting closer. My stomach churned with a mixture of anticipation and dread.

I pulled out my phone and checked the time. Four-thirty. The bonfire would start at six, which meant I had to make my appearance, play the dutiful granddaughter for an hour or so, then find my excuse to leave. Simple enough in theory.

The sound of voices drifted up from outside, Kyle talking to someone, probably Grandmother. I couldn't make out the words, but his tone sounded frustrated. Good. Maybe he'd finally gotten the message.

I tried to focus on other things. The notebook on my desk called to me, but every time I picked up my pen, my hand shook too badly to write anything coherent. The books on my shelf might as well have been written in a foreign language for all the sense they made when I tried to read.

Everything kept circling back to tonight. To the possibility that I really might not have a wolf. That I'd strip down in those woods, wait for something that would never come, and wake up tomorrow still completely, disappointingly human.

Maybe that would be better. Easier. I could leave this place, go to college somewhere far away, and live a normal life without pack politics and supernatural drama.

But the thought of being the only Lancaster in recorded history without a wolf made my chest tight with shame.

By five-thirty, I couldn't put it off any longer. I changed into dark jeans and a hoodie, clothes I could move quickly in if I needed to make my escape. The duffel bag went back under the bed. I'd retrieve it later, when everyone was distracted by the fire and whatever pack bonding rituals they had planned.

Downstairs, Grandmother was pulling a casserole dish from the oven. She looked up when I entered the kitchen, her expression carefully neutral.

"Ready?" she asked.

I nodded, not trusting my voice. Outside, I could already smell the woodsmoke and hear the low murmur of voices gathering in the clearing behind our house. The pack was assembling, and soon I'd have to face them all on the most important night of my life.

The night I'd been planning to face completely alone.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what was coming. The warm orange glow of the bonfire was visible even from the kitchen window, flickering shadows dancing across the yard. People—pack members—milled about, carrying plates of food and chatting like this was just another Friday night get-together. Not the night that would determine the rest of my life.

"I made your favourite," Grandmother said, nodding at the casserole. "Chicken and wild rice."

The gesture caught me off guard. My throat tightened unexpectedly. "Thanks," I managed.

She gave me a small smile, one that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Happy birthday, Imogen."

So she had remembered. The realisation made my carefully constructed plans waver for just a moment. I pushed the feeling aside.

"We should go," I said, glancing at the clock.

Outside, the evening air carried a bite that promised the coming autumn. I pulled my hoodie closer as we walked toward the bonfire, my eyes scanning the crowd for Kyle's familiar silhouette. I told myself it was just so I could avoid him, but the relief I felt when I didn't immediately spot him was... complicated.

Alpha Williams, Kyle's father, stood near the fire pit, his imposing figure easy to spot among the gathered pack members. When he saw us approaching, he broke away from his conversation and strode toward us with that confident gait that all the Williams men seemed to share.

"Roxanne," he greeted my grandmother warmly, then turned to me. "And the birthday girl. Eighteen at last, Imogen."

I nodded stiffly. "Alpha Williams."

"I hope you're ready for tonight," he said, his amber eyes, so like Kyle's, studying me with uncomfortable intensity. "First shifts are always memorable."

"I'm sure it will be," I replied, fighting to keep my voice even.

He clapped a hand on my shoulder, the weight of it almost making my knees buckle. "The Williams pack takes care of its own. Remember that."

I bit back the response that threatened to escape, that I wasn't one of "his own," that the only one left Lancaster had only joined the Williams pack after my parents died because we had nowhere else to go. Instead, I nodded again and mumbled something about getting a drink.

As I weaved through the crowd, I felt eyes following me. Everyone knew what tonight meant. Some offered congratulations, others knowing smiles that made my skin crawl. I grabbed a plastic cup of lemonade just to have something to do with my hands and retreated to the edge of the gathering.

From my vantage point, I could see the entire party while remaining half-hidden by shadows. The bonfire cast everyone in a golden glow, making them look almost mythical, which, I supposed, we all were in our own way. Grandmother was deep in conversation with Elder Michaels, their heads bent close together. Probably discussing me.

I checked my watch. Good in an hour, no one will even remember that I’m here.

I'd made my excuses and would finally be free. My hand drifted to the small silver pendant hidden beneath my hoodie, my thumb tracing the worn surface as I'd done countless times before. Mom would have understood why I needed to do this alone. At least, I hoped she would.

"Planning your escape route already?"