Page 2 of Wolf Fated

In the corner, a jukebox stand lights up and blinks in time with the gentle melody that fills the air. The tune is familiar, a classic rock ballad that conjures images of poodle skirts and milkshakes shared between sweethearts.

I’m a little out of place. My soft, curvy figure is at odds with the athletic builds of the women scattered throughout the diner. Their toned arms and lean frames speak of a life of hard work and physical activity, a far cry from the sedentary lifestyle I've grown accustomed to.

The men, too, are broad and rugged, their muscular frames filling out the confines of the booths. They exude a sense of strength and resilience that I find impossible to ignore, a stark contrast to the city-dwellers I’m used to seeing.

I think back to Mark and the countless times he urged me to join him at the gym, his tone laced with thinly-veiled criticism about my body. No matter how hard I tried, shedding the extra weight was always an impossible task, my curves stubbornly clinging to me like an old friend.

Here, in this diner, surrounded by these strong, capable people, I feel painfully out of place. My soft edges and rounded hips are a glaring reminder of my own inadequacies, and I shrink in on myself.

The conversation lulls as curious stares weigh upon me. A familiar self-consciousness creeps in, and I find myself second-guessing my decision to come inside.

But then, a warm, maternal voice cuts through the silence. "Y'all mind your own business now," a woman in her fifties chides. Her shoulder length brown hair is streaked with gray but her kind face is creased with laugh lines. She beckons me over to the counter with a welcoming smile and ushers me onto a stool at the long counter.

Before I can even open my mouth, she's already pouring me a steaming cup of coffee. "You look like you've had a long day, honey," she says, her voice rich with concern.

“Thank you.” I nod, suddenly aware of how exhausted I truly am. The coffee's aroma is intoxicating, and I wrap my hands around the mug, savoring the warmth that seeps into my chilled fingers.

"I'll get you a burger and some fries," the woman says, as if reading my mind. "You've gotta be starving after that long drive up the mountain."

I blink in surprise, my mouth opening to protest, but she simply winks at me, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Trust me, sweetheart. Anyone who finds their way to Willowbrook arrives hungry."

As if on cue, my stomach rumbles, and I realize that I can't even remember the last time I ate. “I guess I could eat something.”

A smile works its way over her kind features. She’s as athletic as the rest of the women here, but something about her relaxes me. “I’m more than sure you’ll find something in the menu to your tastes here. Now I’m Sally. Before you ask, yes, I’m the Sally in Sally’s Diner. You sit down and relax and I’ll see what I can do about getting you some accommodation.”

The woman bustles off, calling out the order to the cook in the back, and I take a moment to look around the diner. Despite the initial curiosity of the patrons, they've all returned to their own conversations and meals, a sense of normalcy settling back over the space. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, I allow myself to relax, letting the warmth of the diner seep into my bones.

And as I wait for my food, I wonder how she knew I needed somewhere to stay.

Chapter Two

Mitch

I ease the police cruiser down Main Street, the familiar sights and sounds of my home town washing over me like a soothing balm. Despite having called this place home for as long as I’ve been alive, its quaint beauty never fails to take my breath away.

The rows of meticulously maintained storefronts, their facades adorned with ornate woodwork and overflowing flower boxes, exude a warmth and charm that characterizes Willowbrook. The golden glow of the streetlamps cast a soft inviting hue over the scene, bathing everything in a gentle radiance that tugs at my heartstrings.

As I cruise past the town square, the majestic oak tree that has stood as a silent sentinel for centuries catches my eye. Its branches stretch out like welcoming arms, offering shade and respite to the young and old of Willowbrook over the decades.

Despite the familiarity of it all, a pang of loneliness lances through me, sharp and insistent. This town, this community that I've sworn to protect, is filled with loving families and mated pairs, their bonds forged through a deep, unbreakable connection that I can only imagine.

I've been a part of countless celebrations, witnessing the joy and contentment that comes with finding one's mate, but it's a happiness that has always eluded me.

As the Sheriff and Alpha to the Longtooth pack, my life is devoted to protecting our pack and our lands. I take pride in my role, in the sense of purpose it brings me. But there's a part of me that yearns for something more. Something deeper.

A mate.

My mate.

The word echoes through my mind, equal parts tantalizing and taunting. For as long as I can remember, I’ve dreamed of finding that one special person, my perfect match, the one who would make my life complete. But in a world where she-wolves are rare and precious, the odds of finding my mate grows increasingly slim. And as each year that passes that I don’t find her, I grow more and more lonely.

An ache lingers in my chest, a constant reminder of what's missing from my life. Loneliness. A deep, pervasive loneliness that seeps into my bones, no matter how much I try to ignore it.

I've scoured surrounding pack lands, venturing far and wide in search of that elusive connection, but each time, I've returned home unblessed by the goddess. I don’t know what she wants of me, or if there’s a path I have yet to go down to find my mate, but I’ll do whatever it takes.

My wolf is already moving toward growing feral.

The stirrings are faint, but they’re there.

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