Oddly Fated Mates: Freya and Atticus

Prologue

Freya

Flashing red light pierced my eyes as I tried hard to stare at the warning system on the living room wall without worrying. In vain. It had been flashing in a winding rhythm for the last thirty minutes, a response to intruders on the packlands. A warning to every beta that they needed to form protective detail three until they heard otherwise. Protective detail two and one wouldn't be used unless necessary. Alpha and his team would lead the rest of the betas out to meet the intruder and intercept if necessary. The rest of us stayed home. Safe.

Useless.

Everyone I loved was out there: Dad, my best friend, Mom, and even Grandma.

But I was stuck here. Doing nothing.

Mom was High Matriarch, so she was needed for healing and attack spells and potions that could aid the pack. Grandma was backing her up as previous High Matriarch. Even Atticus, my best friend, was out there with Alpha and his beta team, getting some on-the-job experience. He was the next alpha, after all.

I could fight.

They knew I could. Better than most, actually. So why was I stuck here?

The flashing light turned purple, and my breath hitched as my nails dug into my sweaty palms. Purple. But that meant . . .

"We are moving to Protective Detail Two," the speaker on the alarm system said in its robotic voice. "We are moving to Protective Detail Two." On repeat it whirred until I couldn't take it anymore.

Protective Detail Two.

Protective Detail Two.

I couldn't sit here doing nothing.

Protective Detail Two meant the intruders had breached the outer fence. They were in the forest surrounding the main village. Closer than any intruder had gotten in the last two decades. Closer than I was comfortable with.

How many of my pack were dead or suffering right now? How many could I have helped?

A future leader didn't sit on the side lines waiting to be saved.

They got up and fought.

I already had my cargo pants, sports bra, and tank top on, so I slipped my sneakers onto my feet and rushed out the door. Toward the forest. My feet took over, pushing me harder than in training, but something yanked me back.

"Stop."

A foot patroller.

I swept my foot under his, causing him to lose balance and land on his ass. I took off, running for the trees.

"Stop!" he called, but he was too far behind me now.

I kept going. Running. Chasing. Listening. I honed my hearing in on the sound of wolves' paws rushing over forest terrain. They were east, about a mile out from the inner fence. I could reach that in five minutes. Easy.

My bones shifted first, followed by my face, then my senses, and before I knew it, I was on all fours pounding across the forest as my nose led me eastward. To my pack.

To the people I had to protect.

Protect, protect, protect . . . It ran through my mind on a dizzying loop until the only thing I focused on was ripping my teeth through whomever dared intrude on our packlands. On our home.

Trees whipped by me as I forwent the trails and darted between great oaks, ducked under low-hanging branches, leaped over uprooted roots, and dodged rabbit holes. If this weren't such a dire situation, this would be a great run. The forest thrashing my senses. It always reminded me of home.