Page 4 of The Alpha's Pen Pal

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 realized we’d messed up, 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, that showed 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 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 carried my backpack, which I had left next to the front door of our apartment. She set 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. ToHaven.

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 my mind.

By the time Mom returned with Maddie, I had completed 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 with respect in my letter, and I was proud she trusted me enough to not check over every word.

I folded the letter and placed 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, almost 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 my first shift. 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 and bouncing around behind me.

“Wessy!” she shrieked, just as I threw her down on her back onto her pink princess 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 stopped me in my tracks.

“Wessy, pwease wead me a stowy?”

I sighed and looked at her, prepared to say no, but of course she gave me the wolf pup eyes, complete with the pouty bottom lip and batting eyelashes, her little hands clasped under her chin as she 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 ofThe Goddess’s Talesfrom her bookshelf. The book of myths and legends and fairy tales was passed down through the generations in our family but had remained in decent condition, even with its age. It was well-loved, but the binding was still intact, the pages unmarred.

The tales in the book made up all the stories ever told over the centuries about Selene and werewolves. No one knew 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 most of the magical beings they read about were actually all around them, hidden in plain sight.

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

She clapped her hands. “Wia! I want Wia!”

I groaned. She always wanted Asteria’s story. I liked it because of the part about the creation of lycans and alphas, but I had read it way too many times.

“No, we just read that one the other day,” I said.

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 Reid’s and my friendship.

---