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.

bad eyesight. It’s like a gift

wolves.

don’t have

flick the dirty towel in her

Ava Grey,

you supposed to be restocking our cups? Our dinner rush is

won’t hurt. Maybe it’ll teach

Hah.

ever

says. The only person above

a cultural thing,” I mutter, and she drops

now.

She’s been showing me apartments for rent, coming up with mock budgets, even discussing our school schedules. Lisa’s pushy in the sweetest way, where she’s just desperate

the control my

Groy. Pack Defect

person to

first person to say words that I still

loud.

Who the hell does this?”

I came of age and they realized I had no wolf at

memories. Sweet memories.

lowest times. Memories of Mom when she used

when I cried.

shoulders and tell me I could

me their baby

Good times.

Gone times.

Maybe it would hurt a little less if it hadn’t simply… disappeared. If Mom’s blue eyes hadn’t gone

food and no shelter talling

C

Grey, Pack

me what I

My wolf.

He’s still mad

***

safely on the road, half in worry that my car

could have the same things happen, she grabbed my hand and said seriously, “You would help me.

I love her.

that even with my one and only friend, my ride–or–die girl, I have yet to admit

I’m neglected and abused from a

14:32

6/11

Ava Grey,

family, and I have to convince her

call the cops at least twice a week. Especially when I show

wouldn’t be able to do anything, anyway.

pack has different laws. No part of the government would interfere in pack

fated mate in another. I dream about it–we all do. It’s a fantasy I

sometimes it hurts to even

because there’s always the chance that I have no

in a new pack is just like

beginning of spring, but the crisp scent of rain is carried on the breeze, telling us all that a

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

14:33

7/11

Grey, Pack

those buildings give way to an unlit rural road that leads

territory.

road is familiar; I’ve driven it countless times in my life, but

tightens on the steering wheel as I navigate the twists and turns, feeling my anxiety wriggle about in my belly, like a fish dashing

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

you’re also the pack punching bag. One of the young