Alison.
I kicked at a stone in anger as I watched my father walk rigidly ahead of me, his jaw clenched in anger. The luxury of our former life within the Crest pack felt like a distant dream, slipping further away with each step we took into the forest.
The memory of our hasty departure from Crest haunted me. It was the night Tyler, that brute, had launched his vicious attack on our pack, leaving a trail of blood and destruction in his wake.
Ethan fell victim to his savagery, and with his death, my dreams shattered like fragile glass. My father had made the decision to run from Crest pack, afraid that Arya would come after him now that she was reunited with her pack, which now annoyingly included Crest pack.
Why the fuck does the think Arya would come after us? After all, she had taken from us? Why was he so afraid of what she could do?
That wretched girl, with her pitiful existence, had robbed me of everything that was important to me. She was the reason we were forced to abandon our home, our status, our very identity. And for what? For her selfish desire to cling to life when fate had clearly marked her for death.
I gritted my teeth, the bitterness of resentment souring my tongue. If Arya had only succumbed to her fate as she should have, Ethan would still be alive, and I would be on the cusp of fulfilling my destiny as Luna. But fate, it seemed, had other plans, cruel and indifferent to the desires of mere mortals like myself.
"Father," I called out. "How much longer do we have to keep running like cowards? I can't remember the last time I had a proper bath, all because of Arya."
His reaction was swift, a sharp slap across my cheek that snapped my head back with a stinging jolt. The taste of blood filled my mouth, metallic and bitter, as I stumbled back in shock. But the pain of his blow was nothing compared to the searing rage that boiled within me.
"Watch your tongue, Alison," he admonished, his voice a low growl laced with warning.
I glared at him, my gaze burning with defiance. "You're not the Beta anymore, Father," I spat, the words dripping with venom. "Running away won't change that. We should be looking for ways to fix this."
His eyes narrowed, dark pools of disappointment and anger. "And whose fault is it, Alison?" he demanded. "Whose fault is it that we're in this fucking mess!? If you had done your duty, if you had been the mate Ethan needed, none of this would have happened. You would be Luna by now, and I would still be Beta."
The weight of his accusation bore down on me like a leaden cloak, suffocating me with guilt and remorse. I had failed him, failed myself, failed Ethan—all because of my foolish pride and stubbornness. I had tried my best to get Ethan to sleep with me. Pestered him about a wedding, but he had avoided me like a plague, all because of that bitch.
But even as the tears welled up in my eyes, hot and bitter, I refused to let him see my weakness. I straightened my spine, lifting my chin defiantly as I met his gaze head-on.
"It's not too late," I declared. We couldn't keep running forever, hiding like frightened prey from the very pack we once ruled. "We can still go back, kill Arya, and reclaim what's rightfully ours. But to do that, we have to stop running, Father."
"Do you even hear yourself?" His voice was tinged with disbelief, as though he couldn't understand my audacity. "You kill Arya, and what next? Offer ourselves up to Tyler as sacrificial lambs so he can torture us till we wish he'd end us? Don't underestimate the wrath of a Locke, daughter."
I met his gaze with a steely resolve, refusing to falter even in his doubt. "Are you that afraid of him?" I challenged. "If we manage to kill Arya, we can bide our time and wait. Remember, he killed his own brother for Arya. He'd go crazy with rage, and we can push him off the edge and take over his pack."
In my heart, I knew the risks were immense, the odds were stacked against us. But I couldn't bear the thought of living as outcasts, forever branded as traitors by those who once revered us. We were Shelbys, survivors of any hardship.
"Afraid?" His expression tightened, lines etching deeper into his weathered face as he regarded me with a mixture of frustration and concern. "It's not fear, Alison," he replied. "It's a healthy respect for the danger that Tyler Locke represents. You're playing with fire, and you'll get burned."
I scoffed inwardly, though I kept my features composed. He just didn't understand. "We've faced danger before, Father," I reminded him, my tone cool and calculated. "And we've emerged stronger for it. This is no different."
But he shook his head, a rueful expression clouding his features. "This isn't like dealing with Ethan. Ethan is reckless and too ambitious," he countered, annoyed at my stubbornness. "Tyler is a different beast altogether. He's calculating, ruthless...and he'd do anything to protect Arya. Anything, Alison. Including killing his own brother. I can't imagine what he'll do to us."
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Of course, I knew the risks. Knew the dangers of our plan. But I refused to let fear dictate my actions. "That's exactly why it'll work," I insisted. "Tyler's blind devotion to Arya is his weakness. And we'll exploit it to our advantage."
"Your plan is not feasible if we have no help from inside." He grumbled in response. At this point, I knew he was beginning to see the light of my plan.
But honestly, if he didn’t agree on the plan, I was ready to go ahead and execute it myself. Living a life of an outcast had not and would never be a plan for my life.
"Father, as long as we have a plan," I said. "Acting on it won't be an issue. Remember, you were the one behind Ethan's rise to power. That's why he made you Beta. Because you were capable. You can't give up now."
As I awaited my father's response, my mind raced with visions of glory, of triumph against all odds.
My father's expression softened, his eyes betraying a hint of admiration despite his lingering skepticism. "Your boldness never ceases to amaze me, Alison," he murmured. "But we cannot act rashly. We must wait until the guards are no longer scouring the forests for us until we're just a memory in the pack. And even then, we must proceed with caution."
His words reminded me of the precariousness of our situation. We were but two wolves against a pack, our survival dependent on cunning and guile rather than brute force alone. I nodded in silent agreement, acknowledging the wisdom of his words even as my heart yearned for immediate action.
"You have done well, my daughter," he whispered. "Your plan is brilliant but the wrong move can easily get us killed. Remember, we only have each other."
A smile tugged at the corners of my lips, a glimmer of pride amidst the shadows of doubt. My father's faith in me was a beacon of hope in the darkness, a reminder that together, we were capable of overcoming even the greatest of challenges. "Do not worry, Father," I said, my voice tinged with determination. "I will not rest until I have reclaimed what is rightfully ours."