“But… but… Uncle!” I finally managed to stammer. “I’m not a leader.”

He shot me a look that could silence a storm, and I snapped my mouth shut. My gaze swept the room—every eye was on me, sizing me up, probably wondering how a waif of a girl at twenty-five could possibly lead them. I was wondering the same damn thing. Why did he have to pick me? I’d spent my entire life avoiding any kind of leadership role.

“Now that you know the mission, does anyone want to walk out? No judgment, no consequences. You can simply return to your regular duties,” my uncle asked, his tone calm but firm.

No one moved. I began to shift in my seat, ready to stand up and walk out. No matter how enticing the offer, I wasn’t willing to lead. Not after everything I’d been through. I wasn’t about to drag others into the darkness I’d lived through. But before I could rise, my phone buzzed with a text. Pulling it out, I glanced at the message.

Star Zaraki:

Lyra, don’t you dare walk out on this opportunity. You’ll regret it.

I glared at my phone, suspicion creeping in, before shoving it back into my pocket. Damn you, Star. She’d worded it like an order, with all the authority that came naturally to a Luna—a mated female alpha, respected and obeyed within the pack. It grated against my instincts to defy her, not just because she was my Luna, but because she was also my best friend. Her advice had never steered me wrong. I looked up at my uncle, catching the exact same grin on his face that I’d just imagined on hers. Narrowing my eyes at him, I let out an annoyed huff.

“Good. It seems you’re all on board,” my uncle said, satisfaction in his voice. “HR will be in shortly with some paperwork for you to fill out. If you have any questions, you can come see me in my office. Remember, you’re not to discuss what we’ve talked about here. Please stay and wait for HR.”

He turned to leave, and I slumped back into my chair with a sigh of defeat. But before he stepped out, he spoke again.

“Lyra, please come to my office. Mr. Amarok, you as well,” my uncle added over his shoulder before exiting the room.

I growled under my breath as I stood, stomping toward the door. Steve was right behind me, his presence like a shadow. As I passed the others, I could feel their eyes boring into me. I knew I looked like I was about to bite someone’s head off, and I wouldn’t be surprised if my eyes were glowing silver.

I stormed out of the conference room just in time to see my uncle disappearing into his office. I made my way there quickly, with Steve trailing behind. When we arrived, my uncle was waiting by the door. He ushered us in and closed the door softly behind us.

“Take a seat,” he said, gesturing to the chairs in front of his desk.

We did as we were told, settling into the chairs. My uncle walked around his desk, sat down, and picked up the phone receiver. He punched in a number with the speed of someone who’s done it a thousand times. A few rings later, a familiar voice answered. My uncle hit the speaker button, filling the room with the voice of the man on the other end.

“Good afternoon, Lord Lycotonu. I have Lyra and Mr. Amarok here with me,” my uncle said.

I groaned inwardly. He didn’t… He had called the King of all Wolves—my Alpha’s best friend. I shot a glance at Steve. The poor guy had gone ghostly white, making my South American skin tone look even darker by comparison. Just great...

“Afternoon, Lyra,” Lord Lycotonu’s voice rumbled through the speaker.

“Hi, Zak…” I grumbled back, my tone laced with frustration.

“It’s good to hear from you. What’s it been—over a year since we last talked?” His deep voice was warm, but it didn’t do much to ease my tension.

“Something like that,” I huffed.

“Listen, Lyra,” he continued, his tone shifting to something more serious. “I know you’re upset, but we need to have a conversation I hoped Star and Cayro had already had with you.”

“Alpha and Luna have had plenty of conversations with me. Which one are you talking about?” I shot back, defiant.

“The one where you needed to step up and build a pack, Lyra. That’s why they sent you out on your own. It’s been three years, and you still haven’t built or won over a pack,” Zak said, a subtle edge creeping into his tone.

“Zak… you know my past better than anyone. I will not become what my father was,” I replied, my voice tinged with pain.

“Lyra, it’s not healthy for a wolf to ignore their instincts. You’re an alpha—a powerful one at that. The sins of your father don’t define you. You are your own person, and you make your own choices. It’s time to let go of the past and stop hiding behind others,” he chided gently but firmly.

I crossed my arms and huffed, frustration boiling inside me. Why was everyone so damned determined to push me into being an alpha? I was happy where I was—away from the pack, making good money, and finally having a goal. Why couldn’t they just see that?

“This applies to you as well, Mr. Amarok,” Zak continued, shifting his attention. “You’re a beta, and for years, you’ve avoided rejoining a pack. But with everything going on, we need all the help we can get. I understand you both have issues to work through, but you’ve had plenty of time to do that.”

I glared at the phone, a low growl rumbling in my chest. I hated being cornered, and Zak was doing just that—backing me into a corner, even if it wasn’t physical.

“You’re not playing fair, Zak,” I grumbled, feeling the walls close in.

“I don’t have to play fair, Lyra. I may be your friend, but I’m also the King of the Wolves. I’ve given you time to figure things out, but now, I’m not giving you a choice. We’re preparing for serious strategic moves in this war, and I don’t have an alpha to spare. You’re the only one available with the training and experience this mission needs,” Zak said, his voice stern and unyielding.

“What about Cameron Balfour?” I blurted out, desperation creeping into my voice. “He’d make a better alpha.”

“He’s already leading his own missions,” Zak replied, impatience clear in his tone.

“But… but… Zak, I’m not ready,” I almost whined, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

“Lyra, you can do this willingly, or I can come to Des Moines and force you to obey me. I’d prefer you choose to do this willingly,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Yes, Sir,” I mumbled in defeat. I’d rather take this on with my free will intact than be forced. I would never let myself lose my free will again—not after everything I’d been through. I leaned back in my chair, trying to suppress the mix of anger and tears threatening to spill over. I didn’t feel ready to be an alpha, and I wasn’t sure I ever would be.

“Mr. Amarok, do you have anything you’d like to add?” Zak asked, his voice firm.

“No, Lord Lycotonu,” Steve replied, his tone submissive.

“Good. I look forward to hearing what you decide to name your pack, Lyra. You both have your marching orders. Since Dr. Zaraki is your employer, you’ll be taking any further orders directly from him or SkyTeam,” Zak said before the line went dead.

I sat there trembling, emotions churning in my chest. I felt trapped, with nowhere to run. Star had warned me this would happen if I didn’t make the choice on my own.

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“Lyra?” my uncle’s voice cut through the storm in my head, soft and calm. I looked up at him, trying to hold back the tears that were dangerously close to falling.

“The team I chose for this mission, they all have similar issues,” my uncle began, his voice steady. “They had nowhere to go, so they ran. But they want to be led—by an alpha who will care for them. You know the difference between a good alpha and a bad one. You have four great alphas you can turn to for help. It’s time to show them that you’re just as great as they are.”

I bit the inside of my cheek and nodded, unable to speak. He wasn’t wrong, but it all boiled down to the fear gnawing at my insides. I didn’t want to become what my first alpha had been—what my father had been. He was a monster before Star killed him.

“Alright, head back to the conference room and finish the paperwork. I’ll come pick you up later this evening so we can have dinner together,” my uncle said, dismissing us politely.

Steve and I stood up and made our way back to the conference room. Sitting down in my previous seat, I half-listened as the HR rep walked us through the paperwork. My thoughts were elsewhere, tangled in memories and doubts. We spent another hour or so filling out and signing the documents before we were finally released for the day. Steve and I lingered, the last ones to leave the room.

“Lyra?” Steve asked quietly as we stepped into the hallway.

“Yeah?” I replied, still feeling the weight of everything that had just happened.

“Do you want to grab a coffee and talk about… all this?” he asked, his voice cautious, as if he didn’t want to push too hard.

“Sure,” I answered. We’d have to talk eventually—might as well rip the bandage off while the wound was still fresh.

We made our way down to the café and grabbed our coffees, then settled into a quiet corner table away from everyone else. I took a sip of the liquid caffeine, waiting for him to speak.

“Who are you, really?” Steve finally asked, catching me off guard. I had expected him to ask how I knew Lord Lycotonu or Dr. Zaraki—not this.

“What do you mean?” I asked, tilting my head slightly.

“I should rephrase that,” he said, leaning forward. “How do you personally know two of the most influential people in the supernatural world?”

I let out a deep sigh, staring down into my coffee. How much should I tell him? If he was going to be my beta, he deserved the truth. Without trust, there’d be no point in us working together.

“Do you remember the viral video that went around just before the Second Twilight Winter? The one with Star Zaraki and Cayro Bracton?” I asked, still not looking up.

“Yeah, who doesn’t? It was everywhere,” he replied.

“That was the night SkyTeam was attacked,” I began, my voice dropping. “I’d just joined the SkyTeam Pack a few weeks earlier. During the attack, Cayro summoned a Call of the Hunt, and being an alpha, I answered the call.”

Steve blinked, processing what I had just said. “Wait… are you saying Cayro Zaraki is a werewolf?”

“Sort of,” I said, finally looking up. “But it’s not my place to tell his or Star’s story.”

“Alright, but the Call of the Hunt… it’s supposed to summon submissive wolves into a dominant position. If you were already an alpha, how did it work on you?” he asked, curiosity piqued.

“There are only two ways to stop the Call of the Hunt,” I explained, choosing my words carefully. “One way is for the alpha who summoned it to release those he called. The other is for another alpha to absorb the magic and submit to the summoner. It only works as long as the submitting alpha is willing to remain loyal.”

“I didn’t know that,” Steve said, his voice softer now, as if the weight of what I was saying was sinking in.

“In a way, it’s very intimate,” I added quietly. “The submitting alpha has to completely trust the summoner.”

“So why did you allow yourself to submit?” he asked, his voice gentle but probing.

“To be honest, I’m not ready to talk about why just yet,” I admitted, taking a deep breath. “But that night, Cayro proved he was a good, caring alpha. I wanted to follow him.”

“So, you let the Call of the Hunt bind you to him?” Steve asked, a hint of awe in his voice.

“Yes,” I said simply, sipping my coffee and looking down at the table, lost in thought.

“That explains how you know Dr. Zaraki, but what about Lord Lycotonu? Why are you so familiar with him?” Steve pressed, taking a sip of his own coffee.

“Lord Lycotonu—I know him as Zak—and Cayro are best friends, practically brothers,” I answered, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Ah, it’s starting to make sense now. That explains three of the four alphas Dr. Zaraki mentioned earlier. Who’s the fourth?” Steve asked, curiosity piqued.

“Director Staroko, Zak’s father,” I said quietly, almost shyly.

Steve blinked, processing the information. “You mean the alpha of the SkyTeam Pack in Cedar Rapids, Iowa? The one at the SkyTeam Aerospace Foundation headquarters?” he asked, his tone laced with disbelief.

“The very same,” I confirmed.

Steve’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click. It wasn’t common knowledge that Director Staroko had once been the King of the Wolves before Zak took over. He’d kept that secret well for centuries. I could see Steve piecing it all together, connecting the dots in his mind.

“Lyra, do you realize the power you hold?” he asked, his voice tinged with awe.

“What do you mean?” I asked, lowering my cup from my lips.

“You’re deeply entwined with the royal bloodlines that lead the supernatural world. You could pull strings equivalent to a council member on the North American Wolf Council. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if Lord Lycotonu is grooming you to eventually join the council,” Steve said, his tone ominous.

“I seriously doubt that, Steve. I’m not council material,” I said, shaking my head in denial.

“Not yet, but in time, you could be. The council is supposed to be made up of the most trusted members of the King’s inner circle, and you’re in that circle,” he countered.

I snorted. “The day that happens, I’ll shave my head bald,” I said, dead serious.

“Alright, Alpha, I’ll hold you to it,” he replied with a grin.

I shot him a dark glare before finishing my coffee. Despite everything that had just happened, the coffee wasn’t cutting it. I was still dog-tired, and I needed a nap. If I didn’t get some rest, I might actually rip someone’s throat out.

“I’m going back to my truck to nap, Steve. You should probably go pack up your cubicle since you’ve been reassigned,” I said flatly.

“Yeah, you should definitely get some rest. Your high beams are flickering on and off,” he agreed with a knowing look.

I got up, tossed my cup into the trash, and made my way out to my truck. After cranking the engine, I climbed into the sleeper and pulled the curtains shut. Tossing the covers aside, I lay down, but now that I was alone, my mind refused to shut off. Thoughts spun in endless circles, replaying everything that had just happened. It took nearly an hour to sort through it all before I finally drifted off.

A loud knock on my sleeper door jolted me awake. Grabbing my phone, I squinted at the time. Nearly nine o’clock at night—I’d been out for almost four hours. Rubbing my eyes, I peeked out from behind the curtains and saw my uncle standing next to the truck. Climbing into the driver’s seat, I lowered the window and turned the engine off so I could hear him.

“Hey, sleepyhead. Hungry?” he asked with a grin. At the mention of food, my stomach growled loudly. He must have heard it too because his grin widened as he held up a large bag of Chinese takeout.

I quickly opened the door for him and shuffled over to the passenger seat, making room. He slid my seat back and let the air out of it, dropping it to the floor. Climbing in, he set the food on top of my camp fridge and closed the door behind him. Then, with a practiced motion, he reached down and restarted the truck.

“I got your favorites,” my uncle said with a grin, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Sesame chicken, house special lo mein, and pork egg rolls?” I asked, narrowing my eyes suspiciously.

“Yep!” he replied, a bit too excitedly.

“How’d you know?” I pressed, my suspicion deepening.

“Just because Star and I don’t always see eye to eye doesn’t mean we don’t talk. She told me how to get on your good side,” he said, a sly smile creeping across his face.

I gave him a flat stare, mentally noting that I’d need to have a word with my best friend. Star loved to stir the pot, and right now, I had enough trouble simmering without her adding more. Huffing, I reached into the bag and pulled out my favorites, plus a few extras. With chopsticks in hand, I opened the container of lo mein and began devouring it, the familiar taste comforting.

My uncle dug into his own container of General Tso chicken, and for a few minutes, we ate in companionable silence. In werewolf culture, it was considered polite to let pack mates enjoy their meal without interruption, and my uncle respected that unspoken rule.

About halfway through our food, he finally broke the silence. “I have a gift for you,” he announced, his voice tinged with excitement.

“Huh?” I said, looking up from my noodles.

He was holding up a set of keys, dangling them from his index finger. I cocked my head to the side, slurping up a noodle unapologetically, as I tried to figure out what he was up to. Setting my food aside, I reached out and took the keys. They were clearly for a Peterbilt, but beyond that, I couldn’t tell much—truck keys all look the same.

“Look out the windshield,” he said, reaching over to the steering wheel and flipping on the headlights.

When the lights flared to life, my jaw dropped. There, parked just twenty feet in front of my old truck, was a gleaming black and chrome Peterbilt 389 Legacy long nose. My dream truck, sitting right there, fully loaded and waiting for me. I turned to my uncle, my mouth hanging open, utterly speechless.

“She’s yours, free and clear,” he said, his smile widening.

“Mine?” I finally managed to croak out, the word barely escaping my lips.

“Yours,” he confirmed with a nod.

Tears welled up in my eyes, and before I could stop myself, I launched forward and wrapped him in a tight hug. That truck wasn’t just any truck—it was the truck I’d dreamed of for years. And now, it was mine.

“It’s not a company truck?” I asked, needing to be absolutely sure this wasn’t some kind of dream.

“Nope, it’s all yours. That is your truck, Lyra,” he repeated, his voice firm with reassurance.

“How did you know?” I asked, though I already had a pretty good idea of the answer.

“Do I really have to spell it out?” he replied, confirming what I already suspected.

I pulled back and settled back into my seat, staring out at my new truck in awe. My uncle picked up his food and continued eating, and I followed suit, my eyes never leaving the black beauty parked outside. We ate in silence, both of us soaking in the moment, the old worn-out Peterbilt 579 now a distant memory as the sleek, powerful 389 Legacy loomed ahead.