Page 27 of Alpha's Promise

He came up behind her, kissing her shoulder. "You don’t sound whiny to me. Just give them time. They'll come around," he assured her, but Dakota wasn't convinced. She needed answers, not platitudes.

"Time might not be enough," she murmured, her hands working mechanically. "I need to understand why my grandfather... Why me? What did he mean?"

Landon leaned against the stable door. "Sometimes the past holds clues to our destiny and sometimes it just raises more questions. Maybe he left something for you to find."

"Maybe," Dakota conceded with a sigh, her mind drifting to the old wooden chest full of her grandfather's belongings back in the basement in her grandfather’s house—the home she’d left behind. The same basement in the same house where she was pretty sure her ex-fiancé still lived. Could it still be there? Could the key to everything lie nestled among moth-eaten letters and faded photographs?

Landon watched her, a silent sentinel whose presence both comforted and confounded her. He offered no easy solutions, only the promise of support as she navigated this labyrinth of heritage and identity.

As she left the stables, the clouds gathered overhead, reflecting her inner turmoil. Yet amidst the distant, rolling thunder, Dakota felt something spark inside her—she would unravel the mysteries of her bloodline and claim her place in this world of shadows and whispers, of wolves and men.

Dakota couldn’t shake the feeling that there were those who were watching her with silent judgment as she worked through her chores on the ranch, the crisp morning air doing nothing to ease the tension that knotted her shoulders. The pack moved through their daily tasks with a kind of effortless grace that was both captivating and alienating. Some members were friendly, nodding in her direction, some merely acknowledged her presence out of respect for Landon, while others averted their eyes, their bodies rigid with distrust.

As she approached the stables, she caught the tail end of a hushed conversation, the words ‘human’ and ‘danger’ floating towards her like autumn leaves carried on the wind. She hesitated, a frown creasing her brow, before continuing on. Herhands trembled slightly as she brushed down the flanks of a chestnut mare, the animal's warm breath ghosting across her skin. Dakota sought solace in the simple chore, but the mare's uneasy shifting under her touch mirrored her own restlessness.

"Hey, there," a voice called out from the entrance, startling her.

She turned to find Briar leaning against the doorframe, the sunlight casting a halo around her loose waves of hair. The woman's smile was a balm to Dakota's frayed nerves.

"Mind if I join you?" Briar asked, her tone gentle.

"Please," Dakota replied, grateful for the company.

As they worked side by side, Dakota's gaze often strayed to Briar, taking in the subtle shifts of her expression. There was a serenity about her, a sense of belonging that Dakota envied.

"Does it ever get easier?" Dakota finally ventured, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them.

Briar paused, her hands stilling on the mane of the horse. "Being the outsider, you mean?"

"Yeah." Dakota sighed, dropping the brush into the bucket and leaning against the stable wall. "It's just... some of them look at me like I'm a riddle they can't solve—or don't want to."

"Change is always hard for people, more so for shifters as there is an element of trust involved," Briar acknowledged, her eyes reflecting understanding.

Dakota chewed on her lower lip, feeling the sting of isolation despite Briar's empathetic words. "Landon's family has been so welcoming, and so have you and Etta. But the others..."

"Give them time." Briar offered a small smile, though her eyes betrayed a hint of concern. "They're protective of what we have here. It's not personal, Dakota. They just need to see you for who you are."

"Which is what, exactly?" Dakota asked, a rueful chuckle escaping her lips. "I don't even know where I fit in all this."

"Let's take a walk," Briar suggested, tilting her head towards the garden that close to the ranch house.

The garden was Briar's sanctuary, a lush patchwork of colors and scents that swirled around them as they meandered along the stone path. Dakota breathed in the fragrance of blooming sage and lavender, allowing the tranquility of the space to seep into her bones.

"I think your grandfather might have sent you here for a reason," Briar said as they settled onto a wrought-iron bench nestled amongst the flowers.

“I don’t know that he sent me. All he said was go east to the wolves.”

Briar grinned. "Maybe he saw something in you, a potential that even you don't realize yet."

"Potential?" Dakota echoed, her heart racing with the possibility. "To become like you?"

"Perhaps," Briar mused, her gaze distant as if glimpsing a world beyond Dakota's understanding. "Or maybe to bridge our worlds in a way no one else can or maybe something else altogether."

A shiver ran down Dakota's spine, the magic of the place and the cryptic suggestion weaving a spell around her. She glanced up at the sky, the once clear blue now streaked with clouds, a portent of the unknown journey ahead.

"Looks like a storm's coming," Dakota murmured, the first drops of rain beginning to fall, each one a cold kiss upon her skin.

"Storms can be cleansing," Briar replied, her voice laced with a wisdom that seemed as old as the earth itself. "They wash away the old to make way for the new."

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