As the car eased through the mist-kissed packlands of Pennsylvania, the crunch of gravel beneath its tires harmonized with the flutter in Kyla's chest. Five years of absence stretched behind her like a ghostly shadow, years spent connected only by the use of phone calls and video calls, no warmth of touch. And now, the sprawling woods alive with autumn's warmth, seemed to lean in as if the trees themselves whispered home to her. Her parents' faces danced in her mind: their overjoyed smiles, the creases at their eyes, the scent of her mother's vanilla cookies wafting from the kitchen, how she missed home. Her journey back was the surprise she'd crafted for them a secret kept even from them, no matter how hard it was for her. She'd never told them about her graduation. She didn't want them to go on rushed journeys back-to-back. Not that they would complain about the stress anyway, but let her return be enough. The thought sent a thrill through her, mingled with a pinch of guilt: what if they get angry? Hopefully, they won't be for long. Her family doted on her; they always supported her dreams, even when others disapproved they had her back. Always.
Kyla had never embraced the idea of the mate bond. Her affection belonged elsewhere to Kaden, her brother's best friend, a crush etched into the margins of her teenage years, one she'd kept in her heart for so long. Though she wasn't in love with him, she liked him a lot. She'd watched him in the shadows whenever he mingled with her brother Justin. She had always wanted to tag along with them; his laughter a melody she had memorized, but he'd treated her like a child, like she was off-limits "His best friend's little sister." Now, with the quiet confidence of a woman, she intended to rewrite that narrative. When she left for England's prestigious university to study Geology, her goal burned like a compass needle: return independent, transformed, unforgettable. Nights blurred into textbooks, conferences sharpened her voice, and mirrors reflected a stranger a 5'7" silhouette with radiant skin a testament to her skincare devotion. Her scent was subtle, her presence magnetic. People complimented her looks in school. As a werewolf, she'd balanced human surroundings with gym sessions, self-defense classes, and whispers of a supernatural world she kept locked tight. Humans knew nothing about her kind, and the Council wants it that way their laws kept them in check to avoid exposing their kind to humans. Some of her close classmates always wondered why they took combat classes; some asked her if she wanted to join the army, but she just laughed it off. They were humans; they would never understand the need to be strong and agile. She was a beta female; she had to be strong.
Werewolves and humans lived in parallel worlds. Her kind were rooted in primal woods, while humans loved the cities. Two packs ruled the American landscape: Vora's and Silvermoon, but they were rivals in wealth, not war. The Council's iron laws hung like a shadow, a reminder: the last werewolf war was ages ago, and any breach of the laws that govern their kind invited ruin. Her family's pack, Crestwood, boasted over 1,000 families a force, but not a giant like Vora's pack or the feared Silvermoon pack. These packs had over 5,000 to 10,000 families.
As a werewolf, she had spent the last two years visiting the gym, sculpting her lean frame with a blend of human discipline and lupine strength. Good genes coursed through her veins, but it was her effort and dedication that honed her physique. She was mostly surrounded by humans, a masquerade she mastered; only a handful of werewolves and other supernatural creatures had crossed her path in school. The Geology department, a sanctuary of ancient wisdom, was an exception; a few of her professors, over a thousand years old, held secrets of the earth like treasures. Their lessons on tectonic shifts, fossilized forests, and molten rivers felt like whispers from the planet itself. Today, she was going back home as someone of worth the beta's daughter, a Geologist, a scientist. Pride swelled in her chest, mirrored by the certainty that her parents would beam with pride.
The car creaked along the winding roads of the pack lands, and Kyla inhaled deeply, the scent of damp earth and pine flooding her senses like a long-awaited embrace. Oh, how she missed the wild. Her wolf, Nala, stirred restless in her chest, paws pacing an invisible trail, hungry for the forest's freedom. The only way she'd kept her calm and contented was through relentless gym sessions and the sharp thrill of self-defense classes she'd registered for. As the car inched closer to the territory's heart, anticipation tightening her throat.
Her family's pack, Crestwood, sprawled like a mosaic of moonlit rooftops across the wooded hills. As they approached the borders, two patrol werewolves on duty emerged from the shadows, their eyes gleaming between their animal and human nature. They recognized the Alpha's driver, and their posture softened; with their heads lowered, they stepped aside, granting passage. They didn't recognize Kyla because she masked her scent, a subtle art only high-ranking werewolves can pull. A cap shaded her face, and any werewolf who caught her scent would swear she was human. The car glided past the pack house, a stone fortress built over centuries, but her family's haven waited elsewhere. Her parents had built this secluded property years ago, a nest of privacy. Her parents were fated mates. Fated mates! With their suffocating bonds, it clashed with her need for space. She cherished solitude, prized independence. Better to love someone chosen, not destined. The idea of a soulmate was scary to her, someone who knew all your emotions, your deepest desires. The thought sent a shiver down her spine.