Windfall Creek always looked calm from a distance. A valley town tucked between black-pine forests and the rolling foothills of the Emberwolf Range, its rooftops shimmered under the pale autumn sun as if nothing dangerous lived beneath them. But anyone born into the Windfall Fang Pack knew the truth: stillness was an illusion. Power simmered under every surface. Hierarchy shaped every breath. The wolves moved the way the old laws demanded.
And today, it was buzzing.
The graduation banners outside Windfall Creek High fluttered in the wind. The graduation ceremony was held in the school assembly area, a wide stretch of brick-paved ground bordered by ancient oak trees. Their leaves burnt gold and dark red rattled in the cold breeze, scattering over the regal-looking pavilion erected for the event.
The graduation pavilion gleamed—white wood columns wrapped in blue ribbons, polished stage steps leading to the decorated platform. Faculty members paced near the podium arranging papers and adjusting microphones. Students chattered, laughed, shoved each other, tossed notebooks into the air and poor Mr Kendry, the vice principal who seemed to be the MC for the event struggled to get everyone's attention.
Alisha was detached from all of it.
She was quiet in her assigned seat alongside the other students. Her back pressed against the chair, arms folded tightly across her chest. Graduation gown unzipped, boots muddy from running in the woods that morning, dark curls pulled into a messy bun high enough to reveal the sharp cut of her cheekbones and the constant tension in her jaw. She was in the middle row and as much as the chattering annoyed her, it also helped ground her.
Her wolf prodded at her insides, restless—and she knew exactly why.
He was back.
The future Alpha.
The one she could never ignore.
She didn't have to see him to know he'd stepped onto pack territory again.
She pressed the heel of her palm against her sternum, trying to steady her breathing. The sensation never got easier. Whenever he returned, she felt him before she heard his footsteps or caught his scent.
A few moments later, the atmosphere shifted all at once. The school principal Mrs Blacon entered the stage with none other than Ben Hale. The courtyard noise faded into a dull hum as the crowd focused on the two people on stage. Alisha's senses sharpened, tuning to one thing only—the steady, confident gait approaching on the stage.
Ben walked like he owned the ground he stepped on. He crossed the stage with a slow, controlled stride, the kind that made Omega girls giggle and straighten their hair, and made Beta boys grit their teeth. At twenty-one, he had filled out—broad shoulders under a charcoal Henley, sleeves pushed up to expose tanned forearms, a jawline edged with faint stubble. His hair, dark and always a little too long, fell into his eyes.
Eyes that were searching the crowd.
But not for the girls who kept trying to catch his attention.
For her.
Alisha felt the heat of his gaze before she met it. His eyes locked onto hers from across the courtyard, and the noise around her vanished completely.
His face hardened before he looked away and her heartbeat skyrocketed.
The ceremony went on performatory except for the rather pleasant surprise of the future Alpha personally congratulating each student on stage as they were handed their certificates. Thankfully, or rather not according to Alisha's wolf, when it was her turn, Ben had stepped out, and Alisha wondered if it was planned.
By the end of the ceremony, Alisha was as giddy as annoyed. Ben had very coincidentally came back after she came down the stage. From there she had avoided looking at the stage and kept herself busy with her phone.
As soon as the ceremony concluded Alisha bolted. To be fair, she had to go collect her things from her locker. There weren't many things left as seniors had been collecting their belongings from their lockers for a whole week now in preparation for graduation, but she still had a few things left.
Alisha Thorn walked across the courtyard with her chin lifted, though her heart beat unevenly against her ribs. At eighteen, she was tall for her age, all lean muscle and soft curves, her dark hair falling straight and heavy down her back. Her eyes—wolf-gold with flecks of amber—caught the sunlight like lit glass. She wasn't supposed to have eyes like that. Not from two beta parents. Not from a line with no dominant blood in three generations.
But she did.
Because she wasn't supposed to be what she was at all.
An alpha female.
The only one born in the pack in nearly a century.
And every wolf present felt it in the air around her, an electricity that stirred instinct and suspicion in equal measure.
She adjusted her cap and gown, the fabric fluttering around her legs as the wind rose. The stands beside the pavilion were filling fast—families, pack members, teachers, humans from town who thought this was simply another quaint Windfall ceremony. They had no idea they were sitting among predators.
She ignored the whispers as she walked, but she felt them. Felt the way omega girls narrowed their eyes. Felt the rigid watchfulness of beta boys whose instincts prickled under her scent. Some lingered too long on her, drawn without wanting to be. Others flinched away, unsure whether to approach or bow.
She hated it.
She also couldn't help it.
Alphas carried gravity.
She'd been pretending not to notice all her life.
Her hand tightened on the strap of her bag as she slipped behind the pavilion toward the brick building where Windfall High's locker rooms sat—small, practical structures with faded blue metal doors and windows fogged by years of humidity. Their walls smelled faintly of pine disinfectant and old sweat, but they were familiar. Normal. Safe, even.
Inside the locker hall, the air was cool and metallic. Rows of gray lockers lined the narrow aisle, each dented by years of careless slamming. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, a steady white buzz that filled the silence. She exhaled, grateful for the moment of quiet, and bent a little to open her locker.
The scent reached her before she touched it.
Warm. Male. Familiar in a way that made her stomach flip unpleasantly.
Ben.
Her fingers stalled on the lock. For a second she just stared at it, her breath caught in her throat. She told herself she was imagining things. He wasn't supposed to be here.
He wasn't supposed to be anywhere near this hallway, near her.
But his scent was everywhere.
Low footsteps echoed behind her.
She froze.
The lights flickered once, humming louder, as if they too sensed the shift in the air.
When she turned, he was already there.
Ben Hale leaned against the locker next to hers, tall enough that he had to duck slightly to get a good look at her. At twenty-one he was unmistakably alpha—broad-shouldered, toned from years of combat drills, dressed in a fitted black shirt and jeans that made his presence feel even larger. It seemed his dark hair had grown out over the semester, a little messy, falling across his forehead in a way that made her chest tighten with something unwelcome.
His eyes—pure alpha gold, bright and piercing—fixed on her without blinking.
"Hi," he said, voice low and rough, as if scraped through gravel.
It wasn't a friendly greeting.
It wasn't hostile either.
It simply was—a raw, instinctive sound he couldn't help.
Alisha swallowed. "Hi."
Ben's jaw flexed. A slow inhale. His gaze slipped down to her hands, then back to her face, a flicker of confusion crossing his features like a passing shadow.
"I wasn't planning to come inside," he admitted. "I just…."
Her heart thudded once, sharply.
"Ben—"
"I didn't know you'd be here....or I did...I...." His voice dropped further, almost uncertain, which startled her. Ben was never uncertain. "But when I scented you, I—" He cut himself off, brow pulling tight. "Never mind."
She looked away quickly, pretending to focus on her locker. "The ceremony just ended. I'm sure everyone is looking for you."
He didn't move.
Of course he didn't.
He was watching her again closely, intensely, like a wolf assessing another's stance, trying to decipher meaning without words. It wasn't threatening. It wasn't comforting. It was… lost.
He'd always looked lost around her, she could relate.
She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, conscious of how her pulse echoed against her skin. "Your father couldn't come?"
"No. Meetings with the regional council." Ben straightened slightly, tone shifting into responsibility. "He asked me to stand in for him—as acting representative of the Alpha."
That part she already knew. Everyone in the pack did.
Of course he would be here.
Of course he would be watching her.
They had been circling each other all their lives—drawn, pushed away, drawn again. Like a gravity neither understood. Like a shadow that followed no matter how fast they ran.
Her throat tightened.
She grabbed her gym shoes from the locker, forcing normalcy into her movements. "The whole pack's outside. Everyone's staring at me like I'm about to explode."
"That's because they're afraid."
She blinked. "Afraid of me?"
Ben tilted his head a fraction, eyes softening. "No one's ever seen an alpha born from two betas, a female at that, they are rare enough. You're breaking rules without trying." He stepped closer—not enough to touch, but close enough that heat rolled off him like a second skin. "People fear what doesn't fit."
She let out a breathy, humorless laugh. "And you?"
His gaze flicked down to her mouth—so fast she almost missed it.
"I'm…" He hesitated, searching for a word he couldn't seem to find. "I'm not?"
The confusied admission hit her harder than it should have.
Ben Hale didn't do confusion. Ben was structure. Order. Discipline. Every step of his life had been defined by the knowledge that he would someday lead the Crescent Fang Pack. He wasn't supposed to bend. Or hesitate.
But now he was staring at her like he'd stumbled into a world without gravity.
She felt warmth crawl up her neck.
He scrubbed a hand over his jaw, frustrated. "Every time I think I understand the pull between us, it shifts again."
"Ben…"
"I know the rules," he said quietly. "Alphas don't mate alphas. My father expects me to choose an omega. The pack expects it. Balance, fertility, stability—all of that." His chest rose with a slow inhale. "But....you…"
He shut his mouth sharply, as if realizing he'd said too much.
The silence pulsed between them. Thick. Unsteady. Alive.
Alisha looked away first, forcing her voice steady. "We should go. People will notice we're gone."
Ben nodded, but didn't move.
It took another long moment before he walked towards the doorway, he stood there hesitating before he had to step back from the doorway, allowing her to pass. She brushed past him cautiously, acutely aware of his heat, his scent, the way his breath hitched when she got too close.
Outside, the world felt louder. The crunch of leaves. The distant murmur of the crowd. The cool wind funnelling through the trees.
Then came the whispers.
There she is.
The alpha girl.
She shouldn't be walking with him.
What if it's true? What if they're—
No. Impossible.
Omega girls glared openly, their postures tense with possessive irritation. A few beta males stiffened as she passed, unused to the instinctual pressure that rolled off an alpha female. Some stepped back. Others forced themselves forward, chins raised, trying not to show unease.
Alisha kept walking.
Ben walked beside her.
The crowd parted instinctively.
Up ahead, the graduation pavilion was packed with parents, students and the staff. Sunlight slanted through the oak branches overhead, casting dappled patterns across the crowd.
Everything looked normal.
Nothing felt normal.
Not when the pack watched her like a brewing storm.
Not when Ben stayed at her side like a shadow made of heat and confusion.
Not when every instinct in her body told her something was changing—something she wasn't ready to name.
She reached for her parents. Her classmates waved politely, though several kept glancing between her and Ben as though expecting a territorial fight.
Ben leaned close enough that his breath stirred her hair. "I'll be with the stuff, some of the parents wanted to see me after too," he murmured. "If anything feels… off—"
"I can handle myself," she whispered back.
His lips twitched in something almost like a smile. "I know."
Their eyes held for a heartbeat longer than was appropriate.
Then Ben turned and strode toward the pavilion, shoulders squared, expression composed. But even from behind, his posture betrayed something—tension in the spine, stiffness across the shoulders, an unsettledness only she seemed able to provoke.
Alisha sat down slowly.
The wind stirred again, colder this time, brushing her skin like a warning.
Something was coming.
Something neither she nor Ben understood yet.
Something the pack could already smell in the air.
An alpha and an alpha, drawn to each other in a world where that pairing should not exist.
Fated or forbidden—she didn't know.
She only knew she wasn't sure she wanted to find out.