Chapter 1

Future Alpha Wesley Stone's teacher assigns his class a pen pal project with a class located in another state. The young Alpha soon finds himself forming a close snail mail friendship with a young, orphaned human girl, Haven Kenway. Over time, they lose touch, but neither forgets the other.

Years pass, and Haven now lives in one of the towns near Wesley's pack. When they finally meet in person, sparks fly, and neither can resist the attraction they feel for each other.

As secrets about Haven's identity are revealed, Haven and Wesley must journey to unravel the truth about who she really is, and Wesley must protect her from those who wish to use her.

*Please note this book is intended for 18+. The book deals with real life issues of childhood trauma, substance abuse, neglect, hospitalization, and will have graphic scenes of violence and descriptive sex scenes, as well as adult language*

Chapter 1

Dear Pen pal,

Hello.

My name is Wesley. I am 12 years old, and I am in 6th grade at Crescent Lake Elementary in Northern California.

I’ll be honest, I am only writing this letter because my teacher said we have to. She said if we don’t, we’ll get an F, and I am not about to fail an assignment and ruin my track record of perfect grades. Plus, my dad would probably ground me or something.

Anyway, I don’t really want a pen pal. I have friends here at school already, so why would I need to make friends with somebody who doesn’t even live here, someone who I’ll never actually meet?

So, yeah. That’s really all I feel like I need to say to you. There’s no point in telling you anything else about myself, since it’s not like we’ll continue to write to each other, or meet each other, or anything like that.

I hope you don’t take this the wrong way. It’s nothing against you. Like I said, I don’t even know you. You’re probably a really nice person, and I’m sure that you, just like me, have plenty of friends at your school, and don’t need a friend who lives hundreds of miles away in a different state.

Thanks for letting me write you this letter so I can get an A.

Sincerely,

Wesley Stone

**********

WESLEY POV

“All right, class, make sure you address your envelopes the way I demonstrated on the board, and be sure to seal them properly before you leave them on my desk. I plan to put them in the mail to Colorado today after school, so hopefully by next week you will have an answer back from your pen pal! Now please, pack up your bags, and line up at the door in a single file line so we can head out to dismissal for today. Don’t forget to put your letters on my desk!”

I rolled my eyes at Mrs. Appleton’s words, exchanging an annoyed look with my best friend, Reid Thomas. He was just as unenthusiastic about this assignment as I was, but I knew I had to turn mine in. Otherwise, my dad, Alpha Harrison Stone, would make me run extra laps and do extra push-ups and sit-ups at training.

He had high expectations and standards for my brother and me. Well, mostly me, since I would be the alpha of our pack someday.

“What did you write?” Reid whispered to me while we both made our way down the aisles to drop our letters off on top of Mrs. Appleton’s desk.

I shrugged. “I told whoever they are that I only wrote them because my dad would kill me if I got an F on an assignment that is as easy as writing a letter to a random person in another state.”

Reid followed me back through the rows of desks to the back of the room, where we kept our backpacks. My black bag and his gray bag hung next to each other on the hooks below our names.

Even though we were 6th graders, Mrs. Appleton liked to keep her classroom set up the same as all the primary grade classrooms. Alphabetized everything: seats, backpacks, book boxes, even our line when we left for recess and lunch. It was a little childish, but I was not the teacher, so I tried not to complain. Often.

“I told mine to never write to me again,” Reid explained, throwing his backpack over one shoulder and placing his baseball cap backwards on his head.

Hats weren’t allowed inside, but somehow Reid always got away with wearing it. He would just flash his signature cheeky grin at the teachers and they would just pretend they didn’t even notice he was breaking the rules.

If it was me, on the other hand, everyone would notice and make a big fuss. Because Future Alpha Wesley Stone should always be the picture perfect student. Future Alpha Wesley Stone should lead by example, even at only 12. No pressure, right?

“I’m just glad Mrs. Appleton isn’t going to be reading them before she sends them to her sister’s class. Can you imagine the volcanic eruption that would take place in my dad’s office if he got a call telling him what I wrote?” I flinched and grimaced, and Reid laughed.

We were finally in our line, waiting for the bell to ring so we could make our way through the halls and off the campus, where the sprawling pack grounds waited for us to spend the rest of our day training and goofing around.

It had always been my favorite time of day. Getting to be outside, running through the forest and then throwing a football or bouncing a basketball around with my friends — nothing could beat that.

The anticipation spreading between all of my classmates was high. Not only was it the end of the day, but it was also Friday, which meant two whole days with no school. What kid, human or werewolf, didn’t love the weekend?

The bell finally rang, and we all tried our best to not run out of the door. The kids at the front made a decent effort, but by the time Reid and I made it out, (with our last names being Stone and Thomas, we were always one of the last in line and out the door) we were all running, pushing past each other to be the first one through the gate at the front of the school near the office.

With werewolves, almost everything ended up being a competition, especially between young males. Being the first student out of the gate had always been one of those things that everyone automatically fought for. It was an unspoken tradition. No one ever declared it was a race, it just was, and always had been.

Even though I was still only twelve, and there were students one and two years older than me at our school, I’d had the honor of being first out of the gate since I was eight. I think, at first, the other kids were scared to beat me, afraid to be the one that made the future alpha come in second place. But at some point, I actually became the fastest.

Part of it was genetics. Werewolves born with alpha blood became Lycans and were genetically predisposed to be stronger, faster, and bigger than other werewolves. But it was also because I trained harder and longer than any other kid in our pack.

I reached the gate first — of course — followed closely by Reid and our other best friend, Nolan Shepard, who was one year older than us. Not far behind him was my little brother, Sebastian. He’s two years younger than Reid and me, and three years younger than Nolan, but the four of us had been inseparable since we were pups.

Our parents were the current leaders of our pack, and the four of us would take over for them in the future. Once we were ready, of course. And once I found my mate.

“Ugh, Nolan, be glad you’re a year older than us. Mrs. Appleton made us do this STUPID assignment. We have to write letters. To pen pals. It’s just… so dumb and childish!” Reid complained as he punched Nolan lightly on the shoulder.

“Oh, poor you, you had to write a letter! Meanwhile, I have a ten-page report on the history of the Moon Goddess due on Monday!” Nolan shot back, shoving Reid off of the sidewalk and towards the copse of trees we always cut through as a shortcut back to the packhouse.

“And let me guess… you haven’t even started it?” I asked with a smirk.

“No, I wrote some already!”

“How much? One page?”

Nolan paused for a moment, clearly deciding whether he wanted to answer me, before he finally, sheepishly, said, “A sentence.”

Sebastian, Reid, and I all exchanged looks, all three of us trying to hold in our laughter. Reid broke first, his laugh sounding like a cackle and echoing through the almost empty forest, scaring a flock of birds out of the branches of a nearby tree. Sebastian and I joined in right away, and even Nolan chuckled at himself a little.

Our pack was in the Redwood Forests of Northern California, close to the Oregon border, near a little known lake that was the shape of a crescent moon. Hence, the name, Crescent Lake.

Our pack was a decent size. Large enough to have our own elementary school on the pack grounds. It actually went all the way up through 8th grade, so I’d be attending school there for two more years before they shipped me off to the local high school. Once I was there, there would be a mix of werewolves — both from our pack and the two neighboring packs — and humans.

My dad built the elementary school on our lands early on when he first became alpha, to keep the younger pups in school without humans. It’s much easier for older students to keep our secret than it was for little kids.

My teacher, Mrs. Appleton, had a sister who recently found her mate in a pack in Colorado, so she had to move there. The elementary school her sister worked at was a mixed school, meaning humans and wolves all together, even from kindergarten. She’s the teacher whose class we were exchanging letters with, so I had to be careful not to reveal anything about werewolves in my letter, since I didn’t know if my pen pal would be a wolf or a human.

It was especially hard to not sign it “Future Alpha Wesley Stone,” since that was how I was used to writing my name and being addressed by most of the members of my pack.

Not that it mattered. Because there was no way I was going to be writing to my pen pal again. I did the bare minimum for the assignment. I would get my A, and then I would never have to write to them again.

**********

HAVEN POV

My jaw clenched after reading his letter, and I tucked my hands beneath my thighs, trapping them between my legs and the seat of my chair, so no one could see how much they shook.

I blinked back the tears that shimmered in my eyes, trying to remind myself that it was nothing personal. It was nothing against me. He didn’t even know me, or anything about me.

He was just a kid, just a young boy, who obviously cared a lot about making sure he did well in school. He was just trying to be honest, trying to set the tone for what our communication would be. Or, I guess, wouldn’t be, in the future.

His delivery may have been a little harsh, a little blunt, but then again, he was only 12. He didn’t know me. He couldn’t possibly have known how his words would affect me, how deep they would cut.

I shouldn’t have let his words bother me. He didn’t know I was an orphan. He didn’t know someone left me at the fire station when I was a baby, wrapped in a deep purple blanket decorated with the phases of the moon, and my name, Haven Kenway, embroidered on one corner.

He didn’t know the social workers searched for any records of anyone with the last name Kenway having given birth in any nearby town, and that they found nothing. He didn’t know I had spent my life being moved from home to home to home. He didn’t know I was with my ninth family in the same number of years.

Again, it shouldn’t have bothered me. Because I was finally in a home where I felt comfortable and safe, where I actually felt the beginning of a connection to the people who were fostering me.

When I was a baby, they moved me early. I was what they called “high needs.” I constantly needed to be held, and hated to be left alone in any room, ever. I guess it was exhausting for my first family, because they moved me before I was even a year old.

The next family lasted longer, almost until I was two, before they decided I was too old, and they only wanted to foster babies. And after I turned two, it had been one home every year. Until it wasn’t.

My foster parents, Jack and Shirley Franklin, didn’t have any other kids in their home. Well, not anymore, at least. Their children were all grown up and moved out, so they wanted to open up their home to a child in need. A child like me.

I’d been keeping my fingers crossed that this placement would last longer than the rest. It had already been almost a year since I moved there, when I was eight.

Jack and Shirley had treated me with nothing but kindness. They bought me what I needed when I needed it, and even got me surprise gifts when there wasn’t any reason for them. They showed up for every school event, and Shirley picked me up from school in her air-conditioned car every day.

They even enrolled me in dance lessons, something I had been wanting to try since I was four years old and caught a snippet of someone dancing ballet on TV. Jack and Shirley even told me I could call them Mom and Dad, too, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do that yet.

My hands were finally back to normal and not trembling from my emotions, so I removed them from beneath my legs, and scanned the letter one more time, checking the address on the envelope so I could write the correct address on mine.

He said he didn’t want to continue to write to each other, but, just like him, my teacher was giving us a grade for this pen pal assignment. So I, of course, had to write him back.

I took a deep breath, calming my emotions and forcing the tears down. I was Haven Kenway, and I would not let some stupid, twelve-year-old boy get to me.

I grabbed my favorite pencil — one of the good ones, the kind with the type of eraser that didn’t leave annoying streaks on the paper — and I sharpened it with my handheld sharpener until it was as pointy as possible. My pencils always had to be sharp. I couldn’t stand dull pencils. I then took out a piece of my nice, crisp, white paper with perfect blue lines, and wrote back to my pen pal who didn’t want me.

Chapter 2

Dear Wesley,

Thank you for being honest with me. It’s not a surprise that you don’t want me as a friend. I’m used to people not wanting me.

You see, I’m an orphan. My parents left me when I was a baby. I was only a few days old. I have lived in pretty much one home a year since I was a baby. So I guess that would make it nine homes now, since I am nine years old. And since I move so much, it makes it harder to make friends.

I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad. I just wanted to tell you I know why you did it and even though you didn’t ask for it, I forgive you.

I hope you get your A.

Haven Kenway

**********

WESLEY POV

The reply letter came in our packhouse mail almost a week after I sent mine. I didn’t realize that I wrote my home address as the return address on the envelope instead of the school’s address.

I arrived home to find the letter was already opened. It was on the small, round dining table in the kitchen of the alpha suite (we called it a suite, but it was really more like a penthouse apartment) where my family and I lived. My mom sat in the chair facing the doorway, giving me “the look”.

Every kid knew that look. It was the look that put the fear of Selene in the toughest of wolves and Lycans. The look that made even my dad, Alpha Harrison Stone of the Crescent Lake Pack, tuck his tail between his legs and say, “I’m sorry,” before he even knew what he did wrong. The look that said, “You done messed up.” That look.

Don’t get me wrong. My mom, Luna Emily Stone, was the best mom any Lycan could ever ask for. I mean that. She was truly the glue that held our family, and our pack, together, just like any good Luna should.

That’s why the ancestors of our pack made a rule that the alpha heir could only take over the pack once they found their mate — be it fated or chosen — so they had the person who could balance them, and keep them from being too overworked or stressed.

Obviously, the pack had the Beta, Gamma, and Delta positions to help the Alpha with that as well, but those people couldn’t calm down an angry, irritated Lycan in the same way their mate could. Even if something happened to the current alpha before the heir found their mate, the next highest ranked member with a mate would run the pack until the heir found or chose their mate.

Not all werewolf packs handled succession that way. Some packs designated an age at which they handed the pack over, and others let the current alpha decide when their heir was ready. But this was the way our pack had done things since the beginning.

With that look on my mom’s face, I was likely in for an earful. I didn’t get in trouble often. I was usually well-behaved and a rule follower, but just like any preteen kid — wolf or Lycan or human — I messed up occasionally.

I sat down in the chair right across from her, folding my hands on top of the table as I eyed her curiously. She gestured at the opened letter on the table, so I picked it up, took out the letter, and read it to myself.

With each word, I shrank further and further into my seat at the table, my mother’s eyes boring a hole straight into my brain, as if she might extract the words that I had written to this girl that made her respond so coldly to me.

We didn’t get names when we got the assignment. Mrs. Appleton said her sister would just distribute the letters randomly to the students in her class. How was I supposed to know that my letter would be given to the one student in class who needed a friend more than anybody else?

That didn’t change the fact that I now realized I shouldn’t have written what I did. It wouldn’t have mattered who she had given the letter to. Even if the student was someone who had tons of friends, my words would have been rude no matter what.

I lifted my eyes to meet the steely gaze of my mother’s gray eyes, and she could already see the remorse in mine, could already see that I understood I had made a huge mistake. She softened a bit, and leaned across the table and placed her hand over mine, as she said in a soft voice, “You know what you need to do.”

I nodded. She was right. I knew what I needed to do. I needed to do what any true alpha, any alpha worth his title, would do: own up to my mistake.

So many alphas thought they never needed to apologize when they were wrong, or even worse, that they couldn’t possibly ever do anything wrong. One of the most important things my father had emphasized to me during my alpha training was to own up to my mistakes.

We were just as imperfect as any other person — human or wolf. Being an alpha didn’t change that. We were just as prone to mistakes — or fuck ups, as Dad liked to say when my mother wasn’t around — as the rest of the world.

What made us different was showing that we realize we’d messed up, and how we reacted to that mistake, and whether we changed ourselves or if we kept making the same mistake over and over and over. If we truly learned from our actions, we could grow and move forward. If we kept repeating our errors, well, then that just showed that we were stuck in our ways.

These actions affected our pack as well. If the alpha was stubborn and set in his ways, then the pack would be stuck in the past. They’d plateau and never rise above the others or continue to be successful. But if an alpha was open-minded and able to learn and grow, then the pack would thrive and succeed in all of their endeavors.

My mother stood up from her chair at our small table and walked through the doorway of the dining room. Her heels clicked on the wood floor for several steps, and then she paused, picked something up, and headed back towards me.

I twisted in my chair so I could see her when she came back into the room. She was carrying my backpack that I had left unceremoniously next to the front door of our apartment. She sat it down on the floor next to my chair, her unwavering gaze boring through my skull as I tried to avoid eye contact with her.

“I am leaving to pick your sister up from pup care,” she told me. “I expect your letter to be finished by the time I get back with Madeleine.”

With that, she turned on her heel and walked out of our apartment, leaving me alone with the letter from Haven and my own thoughts.

I sat there for a few minutes, the only sound the ticking of our old grandfather clock in the living room. I thought about what I wanted to write to this girl. Haven.

I slowly got out my pencil and a piece of paper from my backpack, and set them on the table in front of me as I got into my writing mode.

At first, it was difficult for me to find the words to say to her, but the more I wrote, the easier it became, until the pencil in my hand could not keep up with the words flowing through my mind.

By the time Mom returned with Maddie, I had written the longest letter I had ever written in my life. I had an envelope from my father’s small office in our apartment already addressed and sitting next to the letter on the dining room table. I stood straight and tall next to it, waiting for my mother to inspect my writing.

She surprised me, however, by only checking to see if I finished it. Then she nodded without a word and walked away. She was putting her faith in me to treat this girl respectfully in my letter, and I was proud that she trusted me enough to not check over every word on the page.

I quickly folded the letter and carefully stuffed it in the envelope, sealing it and setting it in the stack of outgoing mail near our front door, just as Maddie came barreling into me. Her arms wrapped around my legs, nearly causing me to fall over on top of her.

Her tiny giggles echoed through the entry, mingling with my laugh that was becoming deeper as I neared the age of receiving my Lycan. I lifted her little three-year-old body with ease, throwing her over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Her giggles turned into full belly laughs as I ran through our home with her dangling behind me.

“Wessy!” she shrieked, just as I threw her down on her back onto her princess pink bed, topped with the squishiest feather duvet and the most ridiculous frilly and lacy pillows I had ever laid eyes on.

She wriggled around, trying to flee. But of course I was faster than her, and my hands tickled her belly before she even had the chance to attempt an escape. Her tiny legs kicked towards me as I continued tickling her, but I stopped before she became too hysterical or out of breath or, even worse, wet herself.

I turned to leave her room, hoping to wrangle Sebastian or Reid into playing a video game with me, but her little voice asked from behind me, “Wessy, pwease wead me a stowy?”

I sighed, and looked at her, prepared to say no, but of course she was giving me the wolf pup eyes, complete with the pouty bottom lip and batting eyelashes, her little hands clasped under her chin as she silently begged me. I couldn’t say no to that face. No one could. Maddie had perfected that look, further cementing her status as the princess of our pack.

Without a word, I moved back to her bed, grabbing our copy of The Goddess’s Tales from her bookshelf. The book of myths and legends and fairy tales was passed down through the generations in our family, but had somehow remained in decent condition, even with its age. It was well-loved, but the binding was still intact, and none of the pages had tears or bends.

The tales in the book made up all the stories that had been told over the centuries about Selene. No one knew anymore which of them, or which parts of them, were true. But every werewolf and Lycan heard them growing up, just as human children heard their own fairy tales, such as Cinderella or Hansel and Gretel.

They did not know most of their stories were based on a sliver of truth. That the magical beings they read about were actually all around them, hidden in plain sight.

“Which one shall we read today, Maddie?” I asked her, holding the book up for her to see.

She clapped her hands excitedly, settling herself next to me and saying, “Ria! I want Ria!”

I groaned. She always wanted Asteria’s story. “No, we just read that one the other day,” I argued.

I thumbed through the pages, looking at the titles as I flipped through them. “How about ‘The Alpha Pup’s Best Friend?’” I suggested, showing her the page.

“No!” she shouted.

I sighed. That was one of my favorites, because it told of the first beta, and I always thought of mine and Reid’s friendship.

I flipped through the book some more until I ended up back at the very beginning. The first story, the story of our origins.

“‘The First of the Wolves’?” I asked, peeking at her from the corner of my eye.

Her eyes lit up, but then she forced a frown. However, it was too late. I had already seen her excitement.

“First wolves it is!” I exclaimed in triumph, and she giggled and settled in next to me as I began to read.

Chapter 3

WESLEY POV

“Once upon a time, two peeps fell in love and-”

“Dat’s not how it goes, Wessy!” Maddie laughed, pushing me with her little hands.

I pretended to fall down on the mattress from her shove. “Wessy!” she whined, pulling on my arm.

“Okay, okay,” I chuckled. “I’ll start over!”

I took a breath and began again.

“A long time ago, when the world was brand new, the gods and goddesses walked among us. They lived within the world they had created, celebrating in its beauty and its bounty with the people of the land. The gods and humans and other beings lived together in harmony, celebrating the magnificence they lived in.”

“What’s magfishinence?” Maddie interrupted.

“Magnificence,” I corrected.

“Yeah dat.”

“It means wonderful or great,” I told her. “Can I keep reading?”

She nodded, and I continued.

“But the peace among the inhabitants was a tentative peace, a fragile peace. As such, each of the gods and goddesses created warriors, their own followers blessed with a touch of their magic to be stronger than the average human.

“Selene, the goddess of the moon, gave each of her warriors a special connection to a wolf. This wolf was their companion, their friend, their extra eyes and ears and strength. They could communicate mentally with their wolf, and they had a life bond with them — one could not live without the other.

“The bond formed when both were young, and the wolves would live until the human died — either by natural causes, old age, or in battle.

“The warriors loved their canine companions and treated them even better than a pet. They trained with them, ate with them, hunted with them, and lived with them.

“As you might have guessed, however, not all was as it seemed, and not all the beings of the world were content with how the gods and goddesses had chosen their favorites.

“There was another clan, Clan Vígi, a clan who thrived on bloodshed and violence, who also worshiped Selene above any other. But she had not chosen them as her blessed warriors, and they held a grudge against the clan she had chosen, Clan Adalwolf.”

“I don’t like dem,” Maddie grumbled.

“You’re not supposed to,” I pointed out. “Now let me read.”

She muttered something under her breath, but let me read.

“This jealousy and this grudge festered and grew over the years until it became a deep-seated hatred. It ran so deep, became so ingrained into their lives, that none of the clan members remembered the origins of their envy. They only knew that the clan was their enemy, and that they deserved more than they had received.

“That year, at the annual gathering of the clans, the leader of Clan Vígi brought his daughter, Eydís, with him for the first time. She had just become of age, and he was hoping to make a match for her with the leader of another clan.

“I’m going to be Eydís for Halloween dis year,” she told me.

“Cool,” I sighed, then I paused, glancing at her to see if she would interrupt again.

She smiled at me, waiting, and I kept going.

“People always drank and partied on the first night of the gathering. It was a noisy event, an event where the clans put aside their differences, for the most part, and just celebrated life.

“Karl, of Clan Adalwolf, was there with two of his friends, Norman and Wilhelm. All three of them were looking to make matches with females while at the gathering. They were ready to settle down from their wild ways and raise families of their own.

“It was typical for members of the warrior clans to find a life partner at the gathering, but it was not typical for members of Clan Adalwolf to choose a partner from a different clan. Doing so would cause issues, as their partner would not have a wolf companion, and would be unable to take part in many of their customs, since only Clan Adalwolf members had such companions.

“Eydís immediately captivated Karl when he first laid eyes on her. He knew then and there that she was the only female for him, and he declared he would have no other.

“He approached her, and told her of his intentions, not knowing what clan she hailed from or even caring what clan she belonged to. He cared only for her soft smile and her sparkling eyes and her long, dark hair that he longed to run his fingers through.

“As the night wore on, the two drifted away from the revel so they could learn more about each other. Eydís was just as taken with Karl as he was with her, and by the time the sun began to rise, they had agreed to speak to their parents to arrange a match.

“When Karl walked her back to where her clan was staying for the gathering, it shocked him to see she was not only a member of his clan’s greatest enemy, but the daughter of their leader. He was undeterred, however. In fact, his resolve to have Eydís only deepened. He had hopes that their union might bring an end to the long endured feuding of their people.”

“Farting?”

“FEUDING!”

“Sounds like farting to me,” she giggled.

I ground my teeth together but kept going.

“He left Eydís at the edge of her campsite and returned to his own clan, vowing to himself that he would convince Clan Adalwolf to accept a member of Clan Vígi by the end of the gathering.

“Throughout the long days of the gathering, Eydís and Karl met as much as possible, almost always in secret. Karl showed her the ways of the wolf warriors, and it delighted her to spend time not only with him, but with his wolf companion as well.

“As the days continued, Karl noticed a small female wolf beginning to approach the area where they would meet. She would draw closer to them with each passing day, until at last, she drew the courage to walk right up to Eydís.

“When Eydís reached out to pet the wolf, a spark passed between the two, forging a connection between them, just as all members of Clan Adalwolf had with their own wolves.

“I can’t wait until I get my wolfy,” Maddie said, her legs bouncing on the bed. “She is going to be so so so so so pwetty!”

“You’ll get a Lycan though,” I pointed out.

She frowned, then asked, “But she’ll still be pwetty, wight?”

“I’m sure she’ll be beautiful,” I said with a smile.

She smiled back, then pointed at the book. “Wead!”

“Eydís was first shocked, then ecstatic when she realized she had been given her own wolf companion. She danced with joy, her wolf leaping and prancing along beside her in celebration. Karl and his wolf joined as well, until the four of them were too tired to continue. They sat with their wolf friends on the floor of the forest, and after their adrenaline had worn off, they fell asleep.

“Unbeknownst to them, their families were in a panic, searching high and low for their missing members. No one had seen them since the previous morning, and everyone was beginning to worry. Accusations flew. Each clan was convinced the other had done something to hurt Eydís and Karl.

“As tempers rose, and each clan started to reach for their weapons, Wilhelm and Norman interfered, stepping between the two clans, their chosen partners’ hands grasped in their own. For they too had chosen members of Clan Vígi as their life partners. And like Eydís, their partners had also been given their own wolf companions.

“As Norman and Wilhelm spoke to the clans with Frida and Dagmar at their sides, explaining what had happened, many of the people around them lowered their weapons. They realized if their children could set aside their differences to join together, that maybe they should as well.

“As this was happening, Karl and Eydís returned, unaware of the issue that had arisen in their absence. And while many members of the clans began to see they were wrong to hold their grudge for so long, Eydís’s father was unhappy to see his daughter with a member of the Adalwolf Clan.

“In his rage, he lashed out, raising his weapon against Karl’s wolf, for he knew if he killed his wolf that Karl would die as well.

“Eydís saw her father’s intentions, and rushed in front of the wolf to defend him. She closed her eyes, prepared to feel the fatal blow delivered by her own father.

“But the blow never came. Instead, the sword fell to the ground with a loud thud. Her father dropped to his knees in front of his daughter.

“She opened her eyes to find him in the dirt, tears forming in his eyes as he looked at her with regret.

“He realized then how dangerous the jealousy and hatred they held towards Clan Adalwolf truly was. He had almost killed his own daughter because of his misguided anger.

“He begged Eydís and Karl for their forgiveness. They, seeing his true regret, of course granted it. The two clans mingled, and her father gave his blessing to their match, as well as to the matches between Norman and Dagmar and Wilhelm and Frida.

“Upon seeing the clans put aside their differences to join together as one, Selene decided to grant Clan Vígi with wolf companions as well.

“The clans celebrated this momentous offering together, merging their two clans with the union of Eydís and Karl, as well as their friends. Selene attended the celebration, and to honor and thank the six young clan members, she merged their human and wolf spirits into one, allowing them to shift at will, and thus creating in them the first werewolves, from whom we are all descended.”

The door to Maddie’s room slammed against the wall hard as Sebastian ran in and whisper-yelled, “Hide me!”

I rolled my eyes and gestured at the book in my lap. “Can’t you see we’re reading?”

“Can’t you see my life is in peril?!” he retorted, then jumped over the bed to the gap between the frame and the wall.

He began pulling Maddie’s pillows and stuffed animals on top of him to block him from view.

“What did you do?” I asked him as Maddie and I just sat there watching him.

“I drew a penis on Reid’s forehead while he was sleeping on our couch,” he explained, way too calm.

“Um… why?” I sighed. “Why would you do that?”

“Well, he called me a dickhead earlier.”

“What’s a dickhead?” Maddie asked.

“I’ll tell you when you’re older,” Seb replied. “Anyway, I drew one on his face and then when he woke up I said ‘Who is the dickhead now?’ And now I’m running for my life.”

“WEID! BASTIAN IS IN HERE!” Maddie yelled at the top of her lungs before giving Sebastian a smug grin.

“Oh, no, you did NOT just do that!” Sebastian yelled. “TRAITOR!”

He jumped up out of his hiding spot just as Reid appeared in the doorway, his face bright red with a giant dick drawn with permanent marker onto his forehead.

I stifled my laughter with the book, as Sebastian stood there frozen.

“Well, it is nice to know someone is on my side,” Reid said with a wink at Maddie.

Seb glanced at me, and Reid dove forward.

“AHH!” Sebastian screamed as he darted around Reid and out the door.

Footsteps echoed through the hall and down the steps as Reid followed after him, Maddie close behind chanting “GET SEB! GET SEB! GET SEB!”

I sighed again and tossed the book on her bed. “I give up,” I muttered, then ran after my friend to hopefully save my brother from a slow and gruesome death at the hands of my future beta.

Chapter 4

Dear Haven,

It’s me. Wesley. Wesley Stone.

Well, I guess that it is probably pretty obvious that it’s me, since my name is on the outside of the envelope, and I’m also probably the only person who writes you letters.

Crap. That probably sounded ruder than I meant it to. I just meant that most people don’t really write letters nowadays, so if you were to receive a letter from someone, it would make sense for it to be a letter from someone who had already written you a letter before. Not that no one would want to write you a letter. That’s not what I meant.

Great, now I’m rambling. You probably won’t even read this, and I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t. I was kind of rude to you before. No, scratch that, I was REALLY rude to you before.

I could try to push the blame off of myself and say something like “Well, I didn’t know that my pen pal would be an orphan,” but that would be immature of me, because, no matter who the letter was for, I should have never written the letter the way I did. And for that, I am truly, deeply, sorry.

I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and I honestly wouldn’t blame you if you never want to write to me again, but I had to at least let you know that I realize I was an ass to you. (I know you’re only nine, so I’m sorry for the language, but it’s truthfully the best word to describe me right now.)

If you’re even reading this letter, and you don’t want to forgive me, then… that’s fine. I understand. And if you don’t want to forgive me, and you’re still reading this letter then… you can stop reading it now and throw it away or burn it or rip it up or put it in a shredder… whatever makes you happy, however you want to get rid of it… that’s what you should do now.

However… If you do want to forgive me, then… I’d really like to have a second chance. A fresh start. I’m not saying to forget what happened before. Just that I would like a chance for us to try this whole pen pal thing again, and just see what happens?

The truth is, even with my two best friends, Reid and Nolan, and my brother, Sebastian, I still sometimes feel like there is something missing. Maybe it’s you? Maybe I need a friend with a different perspective on life, someone who didn’t grow up beside me, someone who hasn’t always been my friend.

So, what do you say? Do you think you can give me a chance?

Again, I totally understand if you don’t want to. I don’t deserve it. I really don’t. To be honest, I don’t think I deserve to have you open this letter or even touch the envelope. So, if you’ve made it this far, I guess that means you don’t hate me as much as I think you probably should.

I’m rambling again.

Just… think about it, Haven.

I hope to hear from you soon.

Your friend (hopefully),

Wesley Stone

**********

HAVEN POV

My day started the same as most days. I got up, brushed my teeth, got dressed, ate breakfast, and rode to school in Shirley’s car. She played my favorite songs on the stereo during the drive and told me to have a good day as I got out of the car once we’d arrived at the school.

I dropped my backpack off outside of my classroom once I entered the campus, and I went to the playground, where I sat on the swings by myself, while all the other students found their friends as they arrived.

Then the bell rang, and that’s when the predictable flow of my day went completely off course.

I was not expecting to walk into my classroom and find a letter from Wesley Stone sitting on my desk. I was not expecting to ever hear from him again. It had been about a week since we had sent our reply letters, and no one else had received a second letter from their so-called pen pal.

I glanced around the room, checking to see if anyone else had an envelope on their desk, but it was painfully clear I was the only one.

I shoved it into my desk before anyone else could see it, and I had left it there all day, hardly able to focus on what Mrs. Rodrigo was saying or teaching or assigning us. I only took it out right at the end of the day, when we were packing up our things before it was time for dismissal.

And that’s how I ended up sitting in the backseat of Jack’s car, holding the envelope and staring at it, trying to decide if I should open it or not.

“What do you have there, Haven?”

I glanced up to see Jack’s eyes staring at me in the rearview, watching me and waiting for my response. “It’s a letter,” I told him quietly.

He didn’t respond at first, and I wondered if he even heard me as I turned my attention out the back window.

“A letter? Who from?” he asked as he made a left turn onto the road that led away from the school.

I sighed, turning my head back to look in his direction. “Wesley. My pen pal.”

“Pen pal? That sounds like fun. I didn’t even know people still did that kind of thing.”

I nodded at him, not really sure how to respond to that statement. It hadn’t really been fun so far, but he didn’t know that.

“What does the letter say?”

“I don’t know,” I said with a shrug. “I haven’t opened it yet.”

“Why not?”

I pressed my lips together, deciding how much to tell him about what had happened with Wesley and this pen pal assignment.

“What’s wrong, Haven?” Jack asked, his head looking directly at me now, while we waited at a stoplight.

I released my lips, blowing out air from my mouth to keep myself calm and to prevent my voice from shaking when I spoke. “He wasn’t very kind in his first letter,” I finally said.

“What do you mean? What did he say?” His brows pulled into a sharp frown at my words, and a tiny part of the walls I had built around my heart crumbled a little at his desire to help me and his need to know how someone had hurt me.

A horn honked behind us, making both of us jump slightly, and Jack muttered, “Shit!” as he quickly turned forward and continued driving. “Don’t tell your mom I said that,” he said to me, looking at me in the mirror again with a wink.

I rolled my eyes a little and giggled. Shirley was just as bad as Jack about cursing while driving, and both of them always asked me to keep it from the other. It was pretty hilarious.

“I don’t remember what it said,” I told him, continuing our conversation about Wesley. “I threw it away at school.”

That was not actually true. I saved it, and took it home, hiding it in the bag I always had ready and packed for when social services came to take me to a new home.

I wasn’t sure why I saved it. I was prepared to tear it up and throw it in the trash, but at the last second, I put it in my backpack instead, and took it home to put with the small amount of meaningful, personal items that I had collected in my short life.

We pulled into the driveway, and I got out of the car before Jack even put it in park, bounding up the steps to the front porch, and racing through the front door. I dropped off my purple backpack on the designated hook in the entryway, hoping to avoid him asking anymore questions about Wesley and his first letter.

For some reason, I felt it was important to protect him. If I told Jack what he said to me in the first letter, Jack would tell Mrs. Rodrigo, who would then tell her sister who is the teacher of the class we exchanged letters with in California, and then Wesley would probably get in trouble.

And, even though he probably deserved it, I just didn’t think it was right for him to get punished for something he honestly didn’t really mean. He was just a kid. Just like me.

As soon as I got up the stairs, I turned right and entered my bedroom, closing the door behind me immediately. I sank down to the floor with my back against the door, and carefully opened the letter.

My heart pounded in my chest as I read his words, my hands on either side of the letter shaking just enough that I had to set the paper on my legs in order to read it properly. I was so nervous about what I might find written there, afraid his words might hurt me again.

I don’t know why I was even reading it, especially after how he treated me the first time, but I couldn’t stop myself. My curiosity had gotten the best of me, and I had to know what he had to say this time.

I read through the letter way too fast the first time, my brain barely processing the words on the paper in front of me. I started it again, this time slowing down to actually understand what he said to me.

As I reread, another tiny part of the walls around my heart came down. He was sorry. Really, truly, honestly sorry. And he wanted to try again. He wanted to maybe even be my friend.

And honestly, he was kind of funny. The way he rattled on in his writing, his inner thoughts coming out directly onto the page — I could totally imagine him talking to himself like that in real life, a constant stream of thoughts and words about everything and anything that was happening around him during his day-to-day activities.

A small smile formed on my lips as I read it for a third time. I moved from the floor by my door to the full size bed sitting in the middle of the large bedroom I had been lucky enough to call my own for the last year. I flopped down onto my stomach and grabbed my blanket that they found me with, my eyes never leaving the paper in front of me.

When I’d finally finished reading it, I set it down on the comforter and crossed my arms under my chin on the bed.

My eyes scanned the room around me, taking in every minor detail. The pristine white computer desk next to the window, the walk-in closet filled with more clothes than I could ever possibly wear, and the much too large for me attached bathroom, complete with a shower and a separate tub.

Even with these luxuries that I had never truly had access to until moving there, the room still didn’t feel like it was completely mine. It still felt like there was something missing. It still didn’t have those personal touches that made it say, “this is Haven’s space.”

I thought about the small amount of movies and television shows I had watched, picturing the rooms of the kids in those stories, and I realized what they all had in common that my room was lacking.

Friends. Or at least, tokens of those friendships. There were no photos on the walls, or on top of the dresser, or pinned to the bulletin board by my desk. There were no knickknacks or trinkets from carnivals or arcade visits. No movie tickets from months ago. No handwritten notes passed during class or at recess or at lunchtime.

I’d never really made any friends in any of my former homes. Part of it was moving so much and joining classes in the middle of the year when friendships have already formed.

But part of it was also because of me. Because I didn’t want to let people in too much, because I was too afraid of having to say goodbye, because I was too focused on protecting my heart from the pain of rejection and the inevitable farewell that would take place. That was why I still couldn’t bring myself to refer to Jack and Shirley as “Mom” and “Dad.”

But maybe… maybe Wesley was my chance. My chance to actually have a friend, someone who would stick around no matter what, no matter where my life took me.

Maybe he was my chance to heal myself, to let people see behind the wall that I had always kept erected around myself. Maybe, by giving him a second chance, he could be my second chance. Maybe I could finally find some happiness.

I sprang into action, moving to my desk, my blanket laid across my lap in my rolling chair. I grabbed the first piece of paper and writing utensil I could find — a hot pink felt-tip pen — instead of searching for the perfect pencil and paper like I did the first time I wrote a letter to Wesley.

I didn’t have the time for perfection. I needed to get the words that were in my head onto a piece of paper as quickly as possible before I forgot them. This wasn’t the time for perfection. This was the time for honesty, for messy and chaotic and all the things that I truly was on the inside.

I don’t know how long I sat at my desk writing my reply, but before I even knew it, Shirley was knocking on my bedroom door to call me down for dinner.

I stretched my arms above my head, wiggling my fingers to release the tension from writing so furiously for so long. Then I climbed out of my chair, leaving my room and heading downstairs to the kitchen for dinner.

It was a Thursday, and on Thursdays, we ate in the kitchen at the counter, and we always had pizza. Most people always had pizza on Fridays, but Jack insisted Thursday was the better pizza day, because since everyone else did it on Fridays, it was less busy at the pizzeria on Thursdays.

So, we would we get our pizza faster and it would be a better quality. I did not know if there was any truth in his theory, but I enjoyed our Thursday night pizza nights and looked forward to them every week.

I grabbed two slices of pizza — one veggie, and one ham and pineapple — and took my spot on the middle bar stool, directly in between Jack and Shirley. I made sure to put my square plate so it sat directly within the perimeter of four of the square tiles on the countertop, just as I always did when I eat at the counter.

I barely paid attention to Jack and Shirley’s conversation, my mind still back in my room, thinking about the letter sitting on my desk, waiting to be put into an envelope and stamped and sent off into the world. But in order to do that, I needed to ask for some help.

I looked between Jack and Shirley, observing the people who had made me feel more at home than anyone else ever had. They had shown me more love and care in one year than I had ever felt in the rest of my years combined. If I could give Wesley, a boy who accidentally hurt me, a second chance, shouldn’t I be able to give two people who had only ever tried to help me a first chance?

I cleared my throat, sitting up a little straighter on my stool, readying myself as I said, “Um… Mom? Dad? I need to mail a letter.”

I’d never understood the saying “silence is louder than words” until I let those two words slip out of my mouth. Both of them froze mid action, their eyes wide and glistening. Jack — Dad — swallowed thickly. His gentle eyes with the small wrinkles at the corner met Shirley’s — Mom’s — over the top of my head.

He blinked a few times, his surprise clear on his face, before he finally spoke to me, his hand covering mine on the counter. “Yeah. Yeah, of course, sweetie. Whatever you need.”

He smiled at me, his face a mix of hope and joy, and when I looked at Mom, she was wearing a matching expression, although she had a few small tears escaping from her eyes.

She said nothing, though. She just tucked a stray hair behind my ear, then slipped around the island into the kitchen, opening the freezer and taking out a tub of my favorite chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream.

She didn’t need words to tell me how she felt. I could see it in her actions, and in the way she kept looking over at me, her warm gaze putting another crack in my slowly crumbling walls.

Chapter 5

Dear Wesley,

I already told you in my first letter to you, I forgive you. I know you didn’t mean what you said, and I know you didn’t mean to hurt me, or whoever got your letter. I know you’re just a kid.

Shirley, my foster mom, always says it’s not about the mistakes that you make, but whether you learn from those mistakes. It’s about what you do next. That’s what is important. That’s what makes you a good person or not.

I am willing to give you a second chance. I need a friend. Like I told you before, I don’t really have many friends. I’ve moved homes too many times. My social worker says I shut people out too easily to make many friends. So, you’ll be my first one.

All right. Since we’re making this a fresh start, I’ll go first. Starting over. Pretend we’ve never met. Or written.

Hi. I’m Haven Kenway. No middle name. That was the name stitched on the blanket wrapped around me when they found me in front of a fire station when I was only a few days old.

I’ve never met my birth parents. I don’t even know if they are alive anymore, or what their names are or anything about them. The social workers were never able to find any information about either of them. I’m the most confusing case of an abandoned baby they’ve ever had.

I am a foster child. I’ve lived in nine different homes since I was a baby. The family I live with right now is the best family I’ve been with in my life, and I hope I stay here longer than my current record for staying in one home, which is one and a half years.

I remember in your letter you mentioned a brother, Sebastian. Is he older or younger? Do you have any other siblings? What’s it like to have a brother? Or a sister, if you have one?

I have no siblings. Well, that I know of anyway. I guess, my foster parents have two children, but they are both grown and moved out of the house. I’ve met them several times, though, and they’re both really nice people.

I guess, also, I’ve had siblings in my previous foster homes, but most of the time they were much younger or much older than me, and with how often I moved families, I never really had much time to form any sort of bond with them.

I’m not telling you this so you’ll feel sorry for me. I know that my life is different and maybe even weird to someone who has grown up in one home with a complete family. But this is my normal. This is what I’m used to.

I’ll admit, though, that I really hope I don’t have to leave Jack and Shirley soon. Those are the names of my foster parents, if you couldn’t figure that out. It’s really nice being the only foster kid in their home. This is the first time that’s happened.

Jack and Shirley are really kind people. They take great care of me, and not just by doing the minimum. They definitely go above and beyond with what they do for me. They even told me I could call them “mom” and “dad”, but I haven’t done that yet.

I think I’m afraid of doing that and then being taken or sent away to another family. I know they say they don’t want or plan to stop being my foster parents, but nothing is ever set in stone. Anything can change that plan.

All right, that is enough about me and my life. I want to know about you.

When is your birthday? What is your favorite color? Favorite animal? Favorite food? Favorite sport or hobby? Tell me everything, please!

I hope to hear back from you soon.

Your friend,

Haven Kenway

P.S. After I asked my mom for an envelope and a stamp, and told her what it was for, she told me I should put a picture of myself in here. Please don’t laugh at my silly school photo. It’s the only one I had that was already printed. You can totally throw it away if you want. I won’t mind. Also, she said it’s fine for you to send your replies to our house from now on, so this address is fine for you to use.

Bye!

Haven

**********

WESLEY POV

I didn’t check the mail at all that week.

I didn’t obsessively open the mailbox every time I walked by. I didn’t look through the incoming mail basket in our suite, or in my dad’s office, or at the front of the packhouse at every opportunity I had. I didn’t ask my mom if the mail had come in yet as soon as I walked in the door after school or after training.

I didn’t even give one tiny little thought to whether or not Haven would respond to my letter, to whether or not she’d decide to give me a second chance. Not one thought. Not at all.

At least, that was what I’d have told anyone who confronted me about it. Especially my friends. Especially Reid. That jackass would never let me hear the end of it if he knew I was basically stalking the mailman, waiting for a letter from a nine-year-old human girl whom I had never even actually met.

I had already gotten enough shit-eating side glances from Sebastian every time he caught me in the act, and my parents just exchanged this knowing look with each other whenever they saw me searching the mail. That was enough nonverbal teasing, in my opinion. If Reid caught wind of it, the teasing would definitely be verbal. Very verbal. Which was why I wouldn’t admit to my mailbox obsession.

It was Saturday — over a week since I sent my apology and begged her to let me have a second chance — and I had yet to hear from her. I was thinking all of my waiting and checking and hoping had completely been for nothing.

Reid, Nolan, Sebastian, and I had training that morning with our dads, and the four of us were eating a small breakfast in the pack house dining room before going out to the training yard. I was sitting between Nolan and Reid, and Seb was directly across from me at the table.

I kept stabbing my fork harder than necessary into my scrambled eggs. I was more than ready to head out and start sparring. The frustration that had built up inside of me throughout the week was eating away at me, and I desperately needed to let it all out.

“What did those eggs ever do to you?” Reid asked from my right, just as I shoveled a forkful into my mouth.

I swallowed quickly, forcing more food down than I should have, making my eyes water slightly.

“What?” I choked out once the lump of food moved out of my throat.

“You’re attacking your eggs with your fork as though they were your mortal enemy,” Reid pointed out. “I’m just wondering what great crime the eggs committed for you to be trying to kill them.”

“You should have seen him yesterday when we were doing homework after training,” Nolan chimed in from my other side, my head whipping around to stare at him in surprise. “I thought he was going to end up tearing all the pages out of his book, he was turning them so roughly.”

“I was just trying to finish quickly,” I mumbled, but my words went unheard. They were on a roll, and nothing I said would deter them.

“Oh yeah, and in class the day before, he kept checking the clock every ten or so minutes. I thought he was going to break his neck with how much and how quickly he kept turning to look behind himself at the wall,” Reid continued, talking over me.

“You think that’s bad?” my idiot little brother Sebastian piped up from across the table. “All week he’s been stalking the mailbox, checking it every hour, waiting for—”

I didn’t even let him finish his sentence. I launched myself across the table, tackling him in his chair, sending it and us to the floor. The chair broke apart beneath us as Sebastian wiggled around. He tried to get out from under me, not wanting to let me pin him.

He kneed me in my nuts, and I let out a groan of pain. My body hunched in on itself slightly to protect my family jewels from a second assault.

Sebastian used this to his advantage, using my body weight against me and rolling me onto my back. He jumped up to his feet in a flash and ran through the large dining room towards the back door that led out to the pack grounds, weaving around the many tables that occupied the space.

I was on my feet and following him in an instant, closing the distance between the two of us easily with every step, my breakfast completely forgotten on the table. I could hear Nolan and Reid laughing and egging us on from their chairs.

One of them was rooting for me and the other for Seb. I couldn’t tell who was rooting for who. My attention was too focused on Sebastian for me to figure out which of my best friends had decided he was going to be a traitor.

Sebastian’s hand was just about to grab the doorknob when the door opened, and my dad’s very large and imposing form was revealed, filling up the entire doorway. Seb froze when he saw our dad, and I tried to stop myself, but my momentum was so great that I ran straight into his back, sending him forward into our dad’s massive chest.

Dad’s large hands gripped Sebastian by the shoulders. His critical gaze scanned first my brother, then me, and then the room behind us. His eyes landed on the broken chair, and he switched from Dad to Alpha Harrison Stone by the time his focus turned back to us.

“Wesley! Sebastian!” he grunted, clearly displeased with our early morning horseplay and pack house destruction. “What have I said about roughhousing inside the pack house?”

“To not do it near the furniture?” Sebastian supplied, trying to keep his face serious.

Dad’s lips twitched slightly, but his face remained stoic and his voice stayed cool when he spoke again.

“20 laps around the field!” His arm gestured behind him, his finger pointing us in the direction of the training grounds.

Sebastian and I both groaned exaggeratedly, my head tilting back to look at the ceiling.

“Daaaaad….” Sebastian whined, but before he could say anything more, Dad cut him off.

“I could make it 40?” Dad asked with a raised brow. “And until training is over, you will address me as Alpha or Alpha Stone or Alpha Harrison or Sir. Understood?” We both grumbled out a response. “I said, understood?!” Dad yelled again, and Seb and I straightened up quickly.

“Yes, sir,” I replied, and at the same time Sebastian said, “Yes, Alpha.”

We made our way past him and through the doorway, and Reid snickered behind us from where he still sat at the table in the dining room.

“Suckers!” he whispered, but of course, since we’re shifters, everyone heard him.

“Reid, you can join them,” Dad ordered him without missing a beat.

“Aww, come on Alpha, I didn’t even do anything!” Reid complained.

But he scooted his chair back, anyway. He knew he’d never get out of it. My dad never let him off the hook for anything.

“It’s only seven in the morning. I’m sure by the end of the day, you’ll have caused some sort of trouble. I’m just saving precious time by disciplining you beforehand instead of waiting for it to happen,” Dad shrugged, his arms crossing over his chest as he waited for the three of us to begin our laps.

“Go on! I don’t have all fu- all day!” He stopped himself from swearing as he felt my mom walk up behind him, clearly coming to check out what all the commotion was about.

As we took off at a steady pace, he melted in my mom’s presence, his muscular arms plucking Maddie out of our mom’s arms with ease. He snuggled her against his chest as he talked to my mother.

It surprised me Madeleine ever learned how to walk with how much my dad carried her around everywhere. Spoiled little pack princess, I thought with a roll of my eyes. Dad would never punish her with twenty laps for breaking a chair.

We continued our steady pace as we ran, and I slowed myself down slightly so Reid and Sebastian could keep up with me easily. My eyes constantly scanned our surroundings, as my dad had been training me to do.

I already had exceptional senses, and they would only improve when my Lycan developed in a year or so. Most shifters had their first shift at around 14, but since I was of Alpha blood, I would likely shift for the first time at 13.

I could see Nolan working on his drills with my dad and his dad, Felix Shepard, the pack’s Gamma, and I could smell the border patrol that was hidden among the trees and posted at various intervals along the edge of our territory. I also realized that someone was noticeably missing.

“Where’s your dad?” I asked Reid between breaths, my head turning to glance at him.

His mouth tightened into a thin line, his eyes darkening for a split second before his expression turned back to normal. Most people wouldn’t have caught the change, but I’d learned how to read him over the years, so I did.

He finally looked at me, and said, “He’s still asleep,” then he turned his face forward and sped up a bit, ending our conversation.

I frowned a bit to myself, but I didn’t let Reid see or push the issue with him. He didn’t like people to feel sorry for him or pity him because of what happened.

Even so, I think part of the reason he seemed to get away with his shenanigans so often was because people knew about his situation, so they overlooked his troublemaking.

His mom, Stephanie, died when we were nine, and his dad had been in a decline ever since. He had good days, and bad days. The bad days outnumbered the good days most of the time.

In other packs, Brad would have likely been replaced as Beta. But between Gamma Felix and my dad’s Delta, Sullivan, the work got covered when needed, and none of them complained or said a word to Brad about it. They just took care of it. Took care of him. Because that’s what best friends did.

It bothered Reid, though, that his dad missed out on so much of his successes, even though he said nothing to me about it. He was always scanning the crowd at various school events or at our football games, and there was always a glint of disappointment in his eyes. But he would just steel himself, and turn his attention back to the task at hand, pretending that everything was fine.

It was an unusually warm day for November, so our 20 laps took much longer than normal. By the end of the run, it felt more like we ran the 40 laps my dad threatened us with when Sebastian complained.

We sprinted the last bit to the middle of the field where my dad, Gamma Felix, Delta Sullivan, and Nolan were all waiting for us. Nolan sat on the ground with a smirk while he did his cool down stretches, since he already finished his training while the three of us were running.

We all stopped in front of my dad, and my hands immediately went to the top of my head as I took in deep lungfuls of air and focused on slowing my heart rate back down. It didn’t take too long, since I was a future alpha and I had Lycan healing. When I could finally shift, 20 laps would be absolutely nothing for me.

My dad just looked at us with an unimpressed stare, before he moved into our regular training session with the three of us and dismissed Nolan for the day. Lucky bastard.

The rest of our training passed without incident, and the three of us trudged up the stairs when we finished, heading to the alpha suite to get cleaned up and have some lunch.

I could tell before we even entered the suite that something important was about to happen. I opened the door and walked in, and right there, on the entryway table, was a light purple envelope addressed to Wesley Stone and sent from Colorado. My heart fluttered a little in my chest when I saw it.

She wrote back. She actually wrote back!

I reached my hand out for it, but before I could even touch it, Reid snatched it off the table and ran towards the kitchen with it held in his hand over his head.

“Give it back!” I shouted, but he was already ripping the envelope open, not even attempting to lift the flap like a normal person.

He tore the letter out and unfolded it, moving faster than I’d ever seen him move, his eyes already skimming over the contents of Haven’s letter. Luckily for me, he didn’t notice the other content of the envelope that fell to the floor in his haste to get the paper out.

I darted forward and grabbed it, tucking it into the pocket of my basketball shorts before he or Sebastian could see it.

I stood there while he read, an exasperated sigh escaping from my lips as I waited for him to finish the letter. I knew he wouldn’t give it back until he did.

His eyes finally met mine over the top of the paper, and instead of the teasing I expected from him, he just gave me this look before handing me the paper and leaving the room. I glanced after him, a bit concerned, but I could hear the door of the guest bathroom close and the shower turn on, so I left it alone, turning my attention to the item in my pocket I saved from the floor.

It was a photo. The tiny ones from school that mothers or grandmothers usually put inside their wallets to show off to their friends or the clerk at the grocery store or their hairdresser. I assumed the girl in the photo was Haven, since it fell out of the envelope addressed to me.

Her hair was a strawberry blonde or light red color and was a wild mess of curls and waves that fell past her shoulders and ended out of the frame of the photo. She had dark blue eyes, and although she was smiling in the photo, I could tell it was a forced smile, a fake smile.

It was a smile I had seen before on Reid’s face when we won a game and his dad wasn’t there. Her eyes, too, held a sadness that was much too heavy for a nine-year-old.

As soon as I saw her, I felt this instant need to always take care of her and protect her and keep her safe. It was a peculiar feeling, one I had never felt towards anyone outside of my family before. Well, besides Reid and Nolan, but I knew they could also take care of and protect themselves.

I was barely aware of Seb telling me he was heading to take a shower. I was too engrossed in the photo. I finally tore my gaze away from Haven’s face, and went to my room, my eyes not registering my surroundings as I walked through our home.

I turned the shower on in my en suite bathroom and then sat down on my bed to finally read her letter while I waited for the water to heat up.

Chapter 6

Dear Haven,

I cannot tell you how happy I was to receive your second letter.

Well, no, I guess I probably could try to tell you how happy you made me, but in all honesty there are not enough words in the English language or any language to express how I felt when I saw your letter finally come in.

You can’t tell anyone this. But I was waiting and waiting and waiting, hoping that you would give me another chance, and I’m not going to lie — at one point I thought maybe you had decided I wasn’t worth it.

But seriously, please don’t tell anyone, because I have already endured enough teasing from my parents and my brother, and even a little bit from my best friend, Reid.

Not that I’m embarrassed to be your friend, that’s not it at all. It’s just that the constant taunting from my little brother and my best friends is annoying. So annoying. That’s what it’s like, by the way, to have siblings. ANNOYING.

Okay, okay, it’s not ALL bad. Sebastian, my little brother who is two years younger than me, and I are actually really close, and we get along fine, but I think it’s pretty natural for siblings to also intentionally drive each other crazy. Which Sebastian does. A lot.

Reid and Nolan, my two best friends, are also almost more like brothers to me. We’ve all known each other since we were born, and the four of us (Reid, Nolan, Sebastian, and me) spend pretty much all of our time together, outside of school at least, since Nolan and Sebastian are in different grades than Reid and I.

But other than that, we play together, do homework together, and even go on family trips together, since all of our parents are best friends as well. And we all constantly give each other crap — I mean tease each other — about anything and everything. I guess it’s in the sibling job description.

Other than them, I have a much younger sister, Madeleine. She’s three and is literally the princess of our family. The princess of our town, if I’m being frank. She has my dad wrapped around her little finger.

Honestly, I think she has me wrapped around it as well. I am afraid of what she’ll be like when she gets older, though. I have this feeling she’s going to end up being a force of nature that none of us will be prepared to deal with.

So, now, you asked me a bunch of questions in your letter, and I’m going to answer them, but I’m expecting you to answer the same questions when you write me back, plus any other questions I decide to ask you. You have been warned.

My birthday is September 4th, so I turned 12 a little over two months ago. I am in the 6th grade at my school, which goes to 8th grade. I know, usually schools stop at 5th or 6th grade, and then students go to middle school, but we’re a pretty small town, so ours goes to 8th and then we’re bussed out to the nearest high school.

My favorite color is white. Yes, I realize white isn’t really a color, but it is my favorite.

My favorite animal is a wolf. They are strong, protective, loyal, and beautiful creatures.

My favorite food is pizza. Any kind of pizza. Except pizza with mushrooms. I hate mushrooms.

And my favorite sport is football or basketball. I also enjoy running and uh… I guess you could call it boxing? I know it sounds violent and unsafe, but I promise, I’m trained by professionals and they make sure we’re safe the entire time we’re working out and sparring.

I also enjoy playing video games with my friends, listening to music, and believe it or not, but I enjoy reading. I actually really enjoy school, too. Don’t tell Reid, though.

I’m pretty sure that addresses all the questions you asked me. I know you said you want to know “everything” but I don’t think I’d ever be able to tell you everything about myself in one letter. But I’m guessing, over time, we’ll eventually learn everything about each other? Assuming we stay in touch, I mean.

By the way, I couldn’t help but notice… in your last letter, you first referred to your foster parents as “Jack” and “Shirley”, but then later, in your PS, you wrote “mom.”

Okay, wow, now that I’m writing this, I realize that it’s honestly none of my business what you call them. I just noticed and wanted to ask, but you can just ignore me. You don’t have to answer that question. Forget I asked.

Last thing: I’m sending you my school picture as well. It’s only fair, since you sent me yours, that I send you mine and show you what an actual silly school photo looks like. Because yours, my friend, is not silly. Mine, however, is.

When you get this letter, it will probably be almost Thanksgiving, so, Happy Thanksgiving.

Wait, do you celebrate Thanksgiving? I’m sorry if you don’t. If you do, well then, uh… Happy Thanksgiving!

Your Friend,

Wesley Stone

**********

HAVEN POV

I folded up the letter from Wesley, stuck it back into the envelope, and placed it into my dance bag. Then I carefully organized the purple floral stationery paper Mom helped me pick out, and put my reply letter into one of the coordinating envelopes.

I was so excited when she took me to the store and let me pick out special paper, envelopes, and pens to use for my letters to Wesley. She knew how much I loved using really nice pens, so having my own full set of colorful pens that was just mine was so exciting.

I had been so overwhelmed by the options in the store. She ended up letting me choose a few unique patterns of paper since I had trouble deciding between them. She also bought me a pocket dictionary, so I wouldn’t have to lug around the giant one from our house.

Then, she took me to the post office, and bought me an entire roll of stamps, so I could mail my letters to him without having to ask them for permission or help. I would still tell them if I sent one, of course, but the fact that they felt I was mature enough to do it on my own made me smile.

I leaned against the mirrored wall of the mostly empty dance studio room, stretching my legs out in front of me and pointing my feet in my pink ballet shoes. My mom was still talking with Miss Rebekah, my dance teacher. I was not sure what they were discussing — they were too quiet for me to hear them — but their faces were fairly serious. I just hoped I was not in trouble for anything.

I hated getting into trouble. I tried to always be on my best behavior. I hated disappointing people, and I felt guilty when I made even the smallest of mistakes.

I searched my brain while they talked, trying to remember if I had done something wrong during my ballet class, but I couldn’t think of anything.

I stood up, and they turned their eyes on me. But I ignored them and walked to the center of the room, turning to face the mirror, my eyes examining my reflection.

One thing I loved the most about ballet was how precise everything had to be. The uniformity of seeing everyone in a black leotard, pink tights, and pink ballet shoes, all moving together in unison — it fueled the perfectionist inside me.

I loved how perfectly Mom could pull my hair back into a bun, somehow able to tame my wild, wavy-curly hair into a sleek, clean hairstyle. I loved how focused I had to be during class, making sure my every movement was precise yet fluid, strong yet smooth.

I placed my feet into fifth position, my arms moving from low fifth to first position, before I began practicing my pirouettes. I stretched all the way through my leg to the tips of my toes in my tendu, used my plié to help me turn instead of using my arms to whip me around, and I made sure my foot connected to my supporting leg when I brought it up to passé as I turned.

However, each time I attempted a pirouette, I fell out of my turn before I even made it around one time. Even though I was growing more and more frustrated with each turn, I continued to try. I didn’t let my frustration show on my face, however. I just kept practicing.

I lost track of how many times I tried to complete a perfectly executed pirouette, when Miss Rebekah’s hands were on my arms from behind me as I was about to turn again.

“Hold your arms up from here,” she told me, tapping the underside of my upper arms. “Not from here,” she continued, touching the tops of my arms. “Relax your shoulders down and back, instead of tensing them up and hunching forward.”

She moved next to me, showing me with her own body what she meant by her words. I immediately imitated her movements, correcting my body to match hers.

“And don’t forget to spot,” she reminded me.

She nodded at me, and I turned my head back to the mirror, taking a deep breath to remember all of her notes before I attempted one last turn.

I turned, completing not one, but two perfect pirouettes, landing in a clean plié in fifth position.

A wide grin appeared on my face, and I looked at Miss Rebekah for approval. She gave me a tiny smile, which from her was a tremendous compliment since she was usually so very serious.

“I’ll see you next class,” she said softly before walking gracefully back over to my mom.

They finished their conversation, and my mom said, “Thank you,” to Miss Rebekah, so I walked back over to my dance bag. I changed out of my ballet shoes and pulled my sweats on over my leotard and tights before sliding my warm boots onto my feet.

Standing up, I grabbed my dance bag off the floor and walked to where my mom waited for me next to the door to the studio. I was nervous for a moment, since they had been talking for so very long. I was still not sure what it was about, but the soft smile and small gleam of pride in her eyes reassured me I most likely was not in trouble.

She was quiet as we loaded ourselves into the car, so I stayed quiet too as I buckled myself into the backseat. She sat there for a moment, the car running but not moving, before she turned to look at me straight in the eye with a smile.

“Miss Rebekah is very impressed with the growth you have made in such a short amount of time,” she told me. “She said she would never have known you had only been taking lessons for a year if I hadn’t told her. She would like you to enroll in at least one more ballet class, and she also mentioned the possibility of private lessons to help you reach your full potential. She thinks you have the natural ability to go very far in the ballet world.”

My jaw dropped open at what she said and I tried to form words to respond to her, but my tongue and my voice could not cooperate with my brain. Instead, I released a series of incoherent sputters.

“But — she — that’s—” My mind was moving faster than my mouth, and I could not get out whatever it was my brain was trying to say.

Mom’s hand reached to the backseat and gently rested on my knee, her eyes softening as she took in my reaction.

“If you’re worrying about the cost, don’t. Your father and I want to do this for you. We want to see you succeed, and we’re happy you’ve found something you are passionate about, something that you obviously work very hard for.”

My gaze lowered, and tears pricked at the back of my eyes. I blinked furiously, not wanting Mom to see. I may have been letting my walls down more and more, but I still had a tendency to revert to my old, closed-off ways when I was feeling especially vulnerable. Like I was at that moment.

Mom squeezed my leg reassuringly, then turned back to the wheel and put the car in gear so she could drive us home. She likely saw the glistening of tears in my eyes, and I appreciated her for ignoring them instead of acknowledging them and trying to get me to talk about it.

I quickly wiped at the tear that ran down my cheek, and I pulled out my letters again, so I could reread Wesley’s and add a post-script to the one I wrote to him. I also wanted to look at his picture again, if I was being honest.

There was just something about his eyes and his smile that drew me in instantly when I looked at the photo for the first time — a connection I could feel even through a photograph. Maybe it was just because of our letters, but something deep within me, a feeling or a presence that I couldn’t even begin to understand or explain, told me it was something bigger, something more.

“What did your friend say?” Mom asked me from the driver’s seat.

I looked up at her from where I had been jotting down my last words, and I smiled as I replied, “He told me about his family, mostly. And his friends. They all seem to be very close.” I gave a soft sigh, lowering my eyes for a moment so she wouldn’t see my sadness. “He sent me his picture as well.”

Mom perked up in her seat at that. “Ooh, let me see?”

I waited until she stopped at a red light and then reached forward to hand her the photo.

“Oh, he is a handsome young man, isn’t he?” I blushed at her words, turning my head to the side and pressing my hands to my cheeks to hide the pink I knew was there. “So strong and serious looking already at his age,” she added, examining his photo still.

Even with my embarrassment, I couldn’t deny the truth of what she was saying. I might have been only nine years old, but I could still tell that Wesley was more mature looking than most 12-year-olds I had seen, and that he would undoubtedly grow to be more handsome as he got older. He told me his photo was silly, but all I saw was a young man with serious but caring brown eyes and a sincere, honest smile.

“Are you ready to mail your reply? I can swing by the post office before we head home?” Mom asked me, and I nodded, then stuffed, sealed, and placed a stamp on the envelope I was sending to Wesley.

We pulled into the post office parking lot, and my mom drove up to the outdoor mailbox, opening my window for me so I could drop the letter into the mailbox. My heart fluttered a bit as I watched the purple envelope fall into the dark of the mailbox, my anticipation and excitement to hear from Wesley again racing through me.

We might have only known each other for a short while, and we didn’t know if we would ever get to meet each other in person, but I already considered him one of my best friends. I could only hope that he felt the same about me.