Page 3 of The Alpha's Chosen Outcast

In complete contrast to her looks, she blasts heavy metal music as we head to Savvy Seconds, the only thrift store in town, and meet up with Logan in the parking lot.

He’s shorter than Callie and with hair the exact opposite of hers, short and black. He won’t admit he’s in love with her, but I could smell it on him from the moment I met them.

“Do you remember when I literally ran into you guys here five years ago?”

“Yes, I do,” Logan chuckles. “You and I were both headed straight for the t-shirts—but it wasn’t like we were battling for the same size.”

“No,” I snort. “And I wanted to turn mine into a dress.”

Logan laughs, “Right, that wasn’t my plan in the slightest.”

“Then I started bitching about how I can never find the right sizes anywhere,” Callie chimes in.

“And I offered to help tailor them for you.” I smile at her, and she grins.

“Instant besties.”

Logan comes up behind us and puts an arm around either of us.

“And then I made a stupid joke about boobs, and you both rolled your eyes at me.”

We both roll our eyes at him, and we all laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

We jump as Samantha laughs at us, succeeding in startling us. It’s only five-thirty.

“I got off early.”

“Obviously,” Callie says with another laugh.

We stroll through the store, searching for new inventory. The owner always brings in from around the country, either through donations or online sales, to keep the selection fresh.

At Eclipse Eats, it’s the same as it always has been, and I feel good about that.

My daily routine helps me stay vigilant about whether anyone has found me. Although there haven’t been any signs in five years, I don’t ever want to let my guard down completely.

Callie gives me a ride home, and I settle in with an energy drink and the newest episode of some reality TV show I’ve been using as background noise.

It’s just me and my dressmaker’s dummy tonight, with a design that came to me when I saw this dress at the store earlier today.

As I circle around the dress and drape some fabric I brought from the store, the idea starts to take shape.

I begin pinning and then sit down to draw it out further so I have a detailed endgame to consult before I start cutting it up. I recall doing this with my mom and how she taught me to upcycle clothing.

I miss her so fucking much. I miss running with my pack, feeling connected, changing together under the moon, and letting go.

I haven’t been able to do that in five years. That’s a lot of moons. A lot of nights without my parents. I wonder what they think happened to me.

By the time I get to bed, it’s late, and I feel like I might regret that energy drink. I’m restless, and all I can think about is fur and moonlight. I haven’t had sex since I left, either. I don’t really have any interest in sex with humans.

That doesn’t stop me from getting a release when I need it—and right now, I need it. Just thinking about the change makes me feel all tingly and wet. There’s no way I can sleep like this.

The moonlight is streaming in across my bed from the open curtains, but no one can see me. Not that there’s anyone around to look into my windows.

I kick off the covers and then take off my oversized tee, letting the moonlight fall on my naked body. I reach into the bedside table and grab my massage oil and my vibrator.

This has become a full-on routine for me. As I rub the oil onto my fingers, I think about the change, about my body turning inside out to become something powerful.

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