Tangled

1 Ava Grey, Pack Defect”

Author Note: The first two chapters have had a

complete overhaul, for a better reading experience. Please enjoy. [May 28, 2024]

What are you supposed to do when your pack–your family–has decided you’re worthless?

Get a job.

Save money.

Dream of getting the hell out of there.

It’s a futile thing to hope for, but it’s the only thing I have that keeps me going.

Until then? I’m just me. Ava Grey. Wolfless. Weak. The shame of the Grey family.

Which is why I’m spending another Friday night working at Beaniverse, a popular coffeeshop in the middle of White Peak, a solid hour’s drive away from

pack land. No shifters, no drama, no bullying; the only people I run into all day are humans with a caffeine addiction. Or social media addictions. People love to

1 Ava Grey, Pack Defect

use our lobby as a backdrop for their latest reel.

“Come out with me tonight.”

Lisa pops her head into my field of view as I wipe down the espresso machine.

I have no major attachments to my job outside of my pay, but it is my favorite place to be because of her. Lisa is my best friend–okay, my only friend–and she makes me dream of something more than the Blackwood Pack and my uncertain future in it.

“Can’t. Dad wants me home as soon as I can.”

The grimace that twists her face gives me a warm little tingle in my chest. At least someone gets me.

Even if she’s a human and has no idea that I come from a family of wolves.

Dad–our pack beta and an expert at curt text

messages demanding my presence home–only allowed me to get a job because he was tired of seeing me at home, I’m pretty sure.

And because every single cent of my paychecks that didn’t go to gas went to the thousand dollars I’d borrowed for my beat–up old clunker Taurus in the

1 Ava Grey, Pack Defect

parking lot. It’s my baby, and I love it, but I’m one weird splutter away from wrecking on the highway.

Still—the little freedom it allows me is worth it.

Anything is better than being home.

“You should just move out. We can get an apartment together and party all night.” Lisa says this just about every day we work together, and it never grows old. I want that life, too. I don’t even need the partying. I just want to get away from my pack.

But wolf shifters don’t just let go of their own. Even wolfless defects like me.

I shove my glasses up the bridge of my nose, hating how they slide. I probably need a new prescription, but I haven’t had the time–or extra money–to pour into that. I’m still wearing the same glasses Mom got me (much to her disgust) several years ago.

It’s like a neon sign saying she doesn’t belong with us.

It’s like a gift

wolves.

have a

the dirty towel in her direction,

Ava Grey, Pack

back. “I would if I could, and you know it. Aren’t you supposed to be restocking our cups? Our dinner rush is going

hurt. Maybe it’ll teach your parents that you’re an adult and they can’t control

Hah.

won’t ever

pack beta. Even if he acknowledged me as an independent adult, I’d still have to do what he says. The only person above him in the pack is our alpha- also not someone I’d like

thing,” I mutter, and

now.

me apartments for rent, coming up with mock budgets, even discussing our school schedules. Lisa’s pushy in the sweetest

the first person to notice the control my

Groy. Pack Defect

first person to care.

that I

loud.

abusive. Who the hell does

me once. Before I came of age and they

warm memories. Sweet memories. Memories

I bring out at night during my lowest times. Memories of Mom when she used to

when I cried. Memories

throw me onto his shoulders and tell me I

the stars. Memories of Jessa and Phoenix when they would call me their baby sister, and show me off proudly to anyone they

Good times.

Gone times.

hurt a little less if it hadn’t simply… disappeared. If Mom’s blue eyes hadn’t gone from warm like a lake in summer to frigid winter skies. If

no olathas no food and

C

Ava Grey, Pack Defect

to survive. That the hardship would bring me what I wanted most, what I

My wolf.

alert–it didn’t work. He’s still mad about it.

***

never leaves until I’m safely on the road, half in worry that my car will

things happen, she

I love her.

my one and only friend, my ride–or–die girl, I have yet

thinks I’m neglected and abused from

14:32

6/11

Ava Grey,

I have to convince

twice a week. Especially when I show

able to do anything, anyway.

different laws. No part of the government would interfere in

find my fated

to

that I have

my life in a new pack is just like my life

of rain is carried

bright, artificially lit business strip to the quiet neighborhoods of White Peak, occasionally lit by a street lamp every

14:33

7/11

Ava Grey,

unlit rural road that leads

territory.

is familiar; I’ve driven it countless times in my life, but tonight, it feels different.

in on me, casting long shadows across the road. My grip tightens on the steering wheel as I navigate the twists and turns, feeling my anxiety wriggle about in my belly, like

eyes dart to the rearview mirror every few seconds, half expecting to see glowing eyes or shadows lurking in

defect means you’re also the pack punching bag. One