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.

eyesight. It’s like a

wolves.

don’t have a

towel in her

Grey, Pack Defect

know it. Aren’t you supposed to be restocking our cups? Our dinner rush is

fuck off won’t hurt. Maybe it’ll teach your parents that you’re

Hah.

ever

he says. The only person above him in the pack is our alpha- also not someone

a cultural thing,” I mutter, and she drops

now.

She always does. She’s been showing me apartments for rent, coming up with mock budgets, even discussing our school schedules.

was the first person to notice the

Groy. Pack

first person to care.

to say words that I

loud.

abusive. Who the hell does

Before I came of age and they realized I had

have warm memories. Sweet

lowest times. Memories of Mom when she used to smile

when I cried. Memories of Dad when he

onto his shoulders

would call me their baby

Good times.

Gone times.

it would hurt a little less if I hadn’t shared that affection with them once. Maybe it would 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 Dad hadn’t thrown me into

olathas no food and

C

Grey, Pack Defect

would bring me

My wolf.

didn’t work. He’s still mad about it.

***

leaves until I’m safely on the road, half in worry that my car will break down

she could have the same things happen, she grabbed

I love her.

guilt that even with my one and only friend, my ride–or–die girl, I have yet to admit that I’m a shifter. I haven’t explained

thinks I’m neglected and abused

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Grey, Pack Defect

and I have to convince her not

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

be able to do anything, anyway.

laws. No part of the government

way to guarantee my escape from my family and pack is to find my fated mate in

it hurts to even think about

always the chance that I have no

my life in a new pack is just like my

than usual for the beginning of spring, but the crisp scent of rain is carried on the breeze, telling

the quiet neighborhoods of White Peak, occasionally lit by a street lamp

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Ava Grey, Pack Defect

to an unlit rural road

territory.

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

tightens on the steering wheel as I navigate the twists and turns, feeling my

eyes dart to the rearview mirror every

pack defect means you’re also the pack punching bag. One of the young wolves‘ favorite pastimes is hunting the