Chapter Fifteen: Sparks and Shadows

The whole pack was buzzing—Blake, the next alpha, had been born, and a party was set for a week later, the news rippling out to neighbouring packs like a war drum. With a baby alpha in the mix, Dr. Ellis had waved off my psychologist sessions for the week—pack pride outranked my headspace, and I wasn't about to argue.

The days before the party crawled by, each one a slow burn. Electra was talking to me again, her voice cutting through the quiet she'd held since Midnight, and she'd asked if we could run together before training. I'd agreed too fast, and we'd gone a couple days in wolf form—her cream fur darting through the pines, my dark grey shadow chasing. The days we didn't, my mind slipped, dark and restless. She'd bolt ahead sometimes, tight shorts clinging to her legs, and it took every shred of control not to cross a line Cade would kill me for. Her eighteenth birthday was just over a week off—a big damn deal in werewolf custom. Every surrounding pack with single wolves would be there, vying for a shot at her. Mating a female with alpha blood like hers was an honour, a power play—strength, status, a bond that could shift pack alliances. No one missed that chance, and I had to get her out of my skull before she found her mate under that full moon.

Tonight's party was my escape—wolves from half a dozen packs rolling in, women who could drag my thoughts off her. I'd been fixating on Electra too much, her wildflower scent haunting my nights, and it was screwing with me. Shauna hadn't helped—ignoring my texts all week, save a clipped "still alive" to my check-in. No sign of her around, no word on where she'd gone, not that she owed me her plans. Best guess, she was bunking with a friend's pack, something she did when she needed air, but it left me stranded. Most females here were mated, Electra was untouchable, and I'd been stuck taking matters into my own hands—literally—more than I'd cop to.

Cade had been scarce, glued to Callie and Blake, but the few times we'd crossed paths, he'd been lighter—grinning, clapping my shoulder, his temper finally cooling now his son was here. Our old friendship flickered back, faint but solid, a lifeline I'd needed. Still, I kept my distance, letting him soak in his new dad high.

After our run, Electra and I loped back to the pack house. She ducked behind a thick pine to shift, her cream wolf melting into human form as she tugged on clothes, while I hit my usual oak tree, dark grey fur shedding fast as I pulled on jeans and a shirt. Cars rumbled up, gravel crunching as guests arrived. I muttered a "see you later," peeling off to get ready, and she flashed a smile—small, tight—and walked off. Something was eating at her; she'd been quiet on the run, her usual fire dimmed. Even with that smile, I saw it—something gnawing, maybe Liam's grabby hands or the tent mess, and it stuck like a burr as I headed inside.

Shauna cut through my brooding, stepping through the pack house door as I hit the hall. I grinned, glad to see her, but her half-smile froze me. I moved for a hug; she stepped back. "What's wrong?" I asked, digging into her hazel eyes for a clue.

Her face flickered—happy, sad, a tangle of both. She sighed. "Remember how we'd tell each other everything?" I nodded. "And how we said that'd stop when we found our mates?" She locked eyes with me, and my gut dropped.

"You found your mate?" Half shock, half joy, my voice cracked.

A small smile broke through, and she nodded.

"Then why do you look so damn sad?" I pressed, concern biting my tone.

"Because now you've got no one to share your secrets with," she said, her voice low, eyes soft with pity. I opened my mouth to argue, but a guy slid up behind her, arm looping around her waist—a strong-looking bastard, short brown hair cropped tight, strong jaw set firm. She looked up at him, grinning, love spilling out—same way Cade had looked at Callie when they'd first met a year ago.

"This is my mate, Dylan. Dylan, this is my friend and beta, Kyan," Shauna said, her voice lifting.

I forced a smile, shaking his hand—iron grip, dark eyes, curt nod. "Nice to meet you," I said, and he muttered a "you too." I bailed with, "Gotta get ready for the party—see you later," and bolted for my room, their voices fading behind me.

I was happy for her, damn it, but it stung—Shauna, the one who'd believed me a year ago when Natalie's lie torched my name, was out of my orbit now. Loneliness clawed deeper, a hollow I couldn't fill. I holed up in my room for hours, blinds cracked, watching them set up outside—tents sprouting across the field, a bonfire piled high with logs and sticks, the air thick with pine and promise. It'd be a good night, I told myself, even if I felt like a shadow in it.

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Hours later, I stepped out, the party roaring, the field alive with wolves and chaos. I wove through the crowd, nodding hellos to familiar faces—Midnight wolves, Dawn Hollow strays—aiming for the outdoor bar, a rickety setup between tents, bottles glinting under strung lights. "Three shots, straight up," I barked, and the bartender poured, amber liquid sloshing into chipped glasses. I knocked them back, the burn sharp but quick—enough to get me tipsy, a spark to kick the night off.

I lingered at the bar an hour, nursing bourbon, wallowing as the crowd thickened—tents flapping, voices rising, the night crisp with smoke and sap. A breeze nudged me off the stool, legs wobbly as I stumbled toward the bonfire, its blaze crackling high, embers swirling into the dark. I dropped onto a log, the wood rough under my jeans, the heat seeping into my bones.

Electra sat on another log, a few yards off, her light brown hair glowing in the firelight. I smiled, waved, and she waved back, faint but there. It took every damn ounce of will not to cross over—her birthday loomed, a full moon ritual where every unmated wolf from Midnight to Pine Ridge would circle, hoping to claim a female with alpha blood, a prize that could anchor a pack's future. I had to pull back before I lost it. Shauna was with her now, their heads bent, eyes flicking my way. What the hell were they saying?

"So, she wasn't really your girlfriend?" Amelia's voice slid in, smooth and close, her chestnut hair brushing my shoulder as she sat beside me.

"I told you that," I said, eyes still on the fire.

She edged closer, her leather scent sharp. "I'm sorry for what I said." Closer still, her breath hot on my neck. "I could make it up to you—finish what we started?" Her tone dipped, sultry, her hand landing on my thigh.

I wanted to—damn, I needed to—but it wasn't her I saw when my eyes shut. Electra's face burned there instead, and Amelia's touch barely sparked. My head spun, bourbon sinking deeper, and I glanced at Electra's log—she was gone. Shauna stayed, shaking her head, pointing toward the pack house.

"Hey, I gotta go—sorry," I muttered, pulling free as Amelia's mouth grazed my earlobe, a groan slipping out before I could choke it. I left her there, stunned, and staggered after Electra, the crowd parting slow. Something was off—I felt it, raw and urgent, and I couldn't let it lie.