Page 7 of Claimed By the Alpha Wolves

“Hi,” I say, and to my shock, a moment later we’re in each other's arms. I have to swallow rapidly to keep a sob from climbing up my throat.

“It’s so good to see you,” she says.

It is?I can’t imagine that’s true. Even now, grief holds me firmly in its grip, making it hard to breathe, to even function. I am not someoneanyoneshould want to see or be around me, least of all someone I was so shitty to.

“It’s good to see you too,” I say, then more softly, “I missed you.”

Our hug lasts for too long, probably, but I find I like it. I hadn’t thought I’d missed the company of other people, the touch of other people, but maybe I had.Yet, soon I’ll go back to my quiet cabin, so I shouldn’t get used to hugs and touches.

She finally ends the hug, pulling back and staring at me. Her gaze moves from my head to my toes, probably seeing how my white-blonde hair falls limply on my shoulders, or the fact that I know my jeans and t-shirt have holes in them. And that’s if she isn’t focusing on just how much weight I’ve lost since my brother’s funeral. Whatever she’s noticing, it can’t be good. There’s nothing good about me.

“I’m so sorry to barge in on you like this,” Addilyn says, laughing and wiping a tear away from her face.

“Not at all, please come in.” I usher her into my room and close the door behind her.

She smiles. “I thought I saw you in the hallway earlier. I was surprised because everyone from Pack Ivory, except for you, was brought in a couple days ago. Today’s bus was the last one and just for the stragglers.” She seems to realize she’s babbling and takes a deep breath. “I just—I needed to come and say hello.”

Guilt, potent and sour, pools in my belly like warm tar. I can hardly stand to look at her. All I can think about is the last time I saw her.

We’d bumped into each other at the local market, on one of my rare trips into town for supplies. At that point, I was submerged in my grief, and I’d already gone months without talking to her or answering her calls. Hell, when she came out to my cabin a few weeks after a trip to town, I’d pretended I wasn’t home even though she knew I was.

At the market, we’d made eye contact over a display of flowers, and I’d turned and ran down the street while she called after me. I remember that moment, and how all I could think about was running away, my body too steeped in guilt and griefand anger to handle talking to her so I could apologize to her for ignoring her for months.

I haven’t seen her since that day in the market, and she looks even lovelier now than she did then. Addilyn is all kind eyes and dark hair, and my heart aches for her friendship in such a deep part of my soul that it’s staggering. The realization leaves me reeling. I thought I was happy without any friends.Aren’t I?

“Addilyn,” I say, the sob that’s been threatening to appear finally ripping out, making me hiccup. I put my hands under my eyes to try and quell the tears. “I’msosorry—I can’t explain what it was like, after—after everything?—”

Her face gentles. “You don’t have to apologize. If my family member was murdered by an asshole, and everyone just pretended it didn’t happen, I don’t know what I would do either,” she says, moving forward and giving me another quick hug. “At the time, it hurt my feelings. But my mom lost her brother, too, and she explained to me that grief is different for everyone. And you were so alone. I just wish I could have been there for you.”

A picture forms in my mind of me going through the last few years with Addilyn in my life. My gut clenches, and my heart aches. Everything would have been so different, even though it wouldn’t be fair to her. No one should have to deal with a person that broken.

“I’m sorry,” I say again, because I don’t know what else to say.

“Forget about it.” She smiles. “Crazy that we see each other again here though, isn’t it?”

“Crazy is one word for it,” I say, and I actually manage to laugh.

We’re both the same age, so this is the first year both of us would have to attend The Selection. I should’ve thought of thatbefore I was even brought here. Iwouldhave thought about it, if I wasn’t so caught up in my own head.

“I’m just so happy to have someone I know here,” Addilyn says, her voice a bit higher than normal. “Since I got on that bus, my stomach’s just been churning.”

“I can relate to that,” I say, thinking of themanytimes I almost vomited on the bus. “That’s why I’m hiding away in here. I just feel so…overwhelmed.”

Overwhelmed is an understatement, but she doesn’t need to know that. If we’re going to be seeing each other here, I need to try my best to hide the jagged little pieces of myself. Addilyn is a good person. She doesn’t deserve to “cut” herself due to me being in pieces.

“Yes, but hopefully, it will go quickly, and we can both find our mates! I’ve always dreamed of finding my mate, ever since we were little—do you remember that?” She gets a dreamy look on her face as she talks, and a sweet smile lifts the corners of her mouth.

Vague memories crop up of Addilyn talking about wanting to have seven mates, one for each day of the week. She said she’d divide up who did each chore, including cooking, and they’d all try their hardest to get her little gifts. And if they did a good job, she’d reward them with a kiss.

“Yes, I remember.” I chuckle. While Addilyn would daydream about becoming an adult, I would desperately cling to remaining a child. “But—I’m not particularly interested in finding my mate.”

“Oh, come on, Faye,” she says, wrinkling her brow. “I know that’s what you always said when we were kids but…well, that’s kid stuff, isn’t it? Surely you’ve changed your mind since then.”

Change my mind? Not a chance. As much as she looked forward to a house full of people, I hated the idea. People are complicated. People are fragile. And when you love someone, it’spretty much a guarantee that you’ll lose them. It just depends on when.

If anyone should know it's me. I’d lost my parents, my grandparents, and finally my brother. I'd lost more people in my twenty-one years than most lose in a lifetime, especially with how long shifters typically live. Losses like mine… they just don’t happen.

When I shrug, Addilyn shakes her head and continues talking. “When I spoke to my aunt about not having a mate—she said it’s one of the most terrifying things you can experience as an omega. Going into heat without a mate. It gives me shivers when I think about it. Have you, sorry if this is a bit too personal, but have you seen any of the signs?”

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