The pack with no Alpha?.. · Y/n story by @enriquentin

The U-Haul truck rattled to a halt in front of the rundown house at the end of Aspen Street. Dust kicked up from the gravel driveway, settling slowly in the late afternoon California sun. The paint was peeling, the porch sagged, and a few roof shingles were missing.

Vivian Graves

steps out of the passenger side, stretches her arms above her head with a groan Well. This is it. Home sweet home.

Lucian Graves

jumps out from the back, wiping sweat from his brow Home sweet fixer-upper. You said there were only minor issues, Viv.

Vivian Graves

Minor is relative.

Sebastian Hawthorn

emerges from the driver's seat, surveying the property with a calm expression The foundation's solid. That's what matters.

Melody Westwood

hops out last, a paint smudge already on her cheek from loading the truck I can fix the porch. And the roof. Give me a weekend.

The five of you stood in a loose semicircle, staring at the two-story house. The air smelled like pine and gasoline and something vaguely like a barbecue from a neighbor's yard half a block away.

Lucian Graves

glances sideways at you, a playful glint in his green eyes So, Y/n. First impressions? Regretting the pack road trip yet?

Vivian Graves

rests a hand on your shoulder, her hazel eyes warm We made it. New town. New start. No alpha. No leader. Just us.

Sebastian Hawthorn

rolls up his left sleeve, revealing the intricate black ink of the pact tattoo The reminder's still here. That's not changing.