CHAPTER ONE
Ten Years Ago
⚠️ Content Warning: This chapter contains scenes of graphic death.
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The smell of burning flesh mixed with so many other scents that it was impossible to identify them all. But the stench of sizzling skin was the worst. Kira's heart hammered against her chest as she moved toward the door. Dizziness washed over her, nausea twisting in her stomach. Her small fingers tightened around the handle before she pulled it open.
A dark hallway stretched before her. Orange and amber light flickered in the distance. Smoke drifted upward, curling around the stairway. The screams echoing through her home were horrifically loud—too loud for her young ears.
Coughing, she moved forward on trembling feet. A whoosh of air cut through the hallway, followed by another scream. Her legs suddenly found strength, racing her down the steps. At the bottom, her heart clenched painfully at the sight of flames licking up the open doorway of her childhood home.
Outside, burning homes illuminated the night.
Bodies—wolves in both human and animal form—lay charred and broken. Some had gunshot wounds to the head. Screams came from homes still burning, and the horrifying realization hit her: people were still alive inside, trapped and helpless.
"Momma?" Kira cried, running deeper into the house.
A man stood in front of her mother, forcing her onto her knees. Before Kira could reach her, a hand clamped tightly over her mouth. Adam—her older brother—held her still. Their mother didn't look at them. She kept her eyes on the ground as the man raised his gun.
The shot rang out.
Her mother's body flew backward, hitting the floor with a dull thud.
Adam scooped Kira into his arms as she screamed silently against his chest. He ran out the door, into the chaos.
The night was full of horrifying sounds—dogs barking, bushes rustling, rapid footsteps, gunshots, arrows slicing through the air. Screams followed them no matter how far Adam ran. The image of their mother on her knees replayed in Kira's mind in a painful loop.
One of the men sprinted behind them.
"Adam—behind you!" she cried.
But Adam never turned. He kept running.
"Kira," he said, voice shaking, "I want you to run and never stop running when I tell you to. Don't look back. Just keep going. We all love you. And remember—an Alpha never stops fighting."
His words quivered, but he didn't slow.
They entered the vast Chihuahuan Desert. Adam placed her on her feet, pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and whispered:
"I love you, Kira. Run… run and don't ever look back."
He turned to bait their pursuers.
Crying, sobbing, terrified, she ran as fast as her tiny legs could move. Behind her, a single gunshot broke the night.
Her brother's last sound.
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Present Day
Kira shot upright with a gasp. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she listened to the soft chirping of birds outside. Not screaming. Not fire. Not death.
Just birds.
She wiped sweat from her forehead and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.
She had turned sixteen recently, but the nightmares hadn't stopped. Ten years later and the memories were as sharp as fresh wounds—the death of her family, the destruction of her pack, the screams begging for help that never came. She had lost herself that night, and the demons of her past refused to release her.
Since that night, the desert had become her home. She worked part-time and attended school in El Paso, but the city didn't feel like home. People didn't feel like home. She had forgotten how to live with her kind—werewolves, humans, or any supernatural being. She blended in when she had to, but only on the surface.
Her true nature was wild. Untamed. Raised by the wolves who remained her only family.
With a long exhale, she gathered her thoughts. Four weeks in her apartment and she still wasn't used to being enclosed. The walls felt too close. The plumbing too loud. The silence too artificial. But it was necessary.
She showered and dressed in a plain black T-shirt that read Alli's Café in small lettering on the left side. Light-blue jeans. Black nonslip shoes. Her wild brown curls were tamed into a bun before she headed out.
The café sat on the corner of the block, a small sky-blue building with a grey signboard. Inside was bigger than it appeared from the outside. Marble floors, oak tables—at least twenty of them. At the front, a counter where customers drank coffee. Behind it, a bar with five seats, though no alcohol was served. Behind the bar stood the coffee and pastry stations. A revolving door on the left led to the kitchen.
As Kira walked in, the bell chimed overhead.
Every head turned.
"Good of you to join us, Kira," Celina said, giving her a sharp look.
Kira resisted the instinctive growl rising up her throat.
"Sorry, Celina," she muttered, forcing herself calm.
"Get clocked in and help table five."
She didn't argue.
At table five sat a male around her age. His hazel eyes lifted to her with an expression she didn't recognize—not fully. Goosebumps prickled her arms. If she had to guess, the emotion he felt toward her was disgust. The scent rolling off him made her stomach twist. She loathed it instantly.
She shoved the violent impulse aside.
"Welcome to Alli's Café. How can I help you?" she said evenly.
Across from him sat what could only be an older version of the boy—same hazel eyes, same strong jaw, except the older man had streaks of grey in his black hair and faint wrinkles around his tanned features.
Both pairs of hazel eyes watched her.
Kira suddenly felt she had interrupted something personal.
"What would you like, Ryan?" the older man asked.
Kira lifted her pen and pad, waiting.