“Do you want the information or not?” I ask, leaning against the cool metal of my booth. The neon lights from the bar reflected on my glasses, casting sharp shadows across my face.
The man opposite me loud, anxious, and clutching a crumpled paper in his hand lets out a nervous laugh. He rubs the back of his neck, unsure whether to trust me. But that's the game. Trust doesn’t get you anywhere, and trust in this city? That’ll get you killed.
“Of course I do,” he says, his voice tight. “But”
I cut him off with a raised hand, the gesture sharp. “Then don’t waste my time.”
The tension thickens. His eyes darted from side to side, and I knew what’s coming. The hesitations, the second-guessing. He’s not used to dealing with someone like me. I lean forward, letting the silence press on him, then slowly slide the encrypted chip across the table. It’s a simple transaction: give me the money, get the info but to most people, this is a deal with the devil.
And they’re right. I am the devil behind every move in the black market. An info broker, a ghost of the packs, a wolf without a pack.
I watch him fumble for his credits, the scent of sweat and fear clinging to him. He doesn’t know I can smell it just like everyone else who comes to me. I’ve made a career out of knowing what they want, what they’re hiding. The smell of desperation.
“You should’ve stayed in the pack,” I murmur under my breath. But I’m not talking to him.
I stand up, my chair scraping the ground in a slow, deliberate screech. The man jumps, his hand still frozen over the credits. I don’t care about the money. I never have. It’s the information that drives me, the constant digging into others' lives, their secrets. They come to me because they can’t get it anywhere else, and when I’m done, they can’t leave without paying the price.
I don’t smile. I don’t laugh. I don’t even feel anything. It’s just business.
The man finally coughs up the credits. I take them, slipping them into my pocket without a second glance. He leaves the booth quickly, probably too embarrassed to stand there any longer. Good. I don’t need him.
I watch the door close behind him, then look out the grimy window into the chaotic street outside. It’s always raining in the city. Acid rain. A constant reminder that the world hasn’t cared about its people in a long time.
The city reminds me of that, too. A place I ran to, a place where I became something I never thought I would. A wolf without a pack.
I was born to lead, raised to be more than just another wolf in the pack. I was supposed to be everything they needed, everything they dreamed of. But I wasn’t like them. They wanted loyalty, trust, and a bond to the pack. They craved the pack structure, the hierarchy, the unity.
But me? I was never meant to be part of the pack. I was always the outsider, the one who questioned everything. And that’s why I left.
I don’t know why I’m thinking about this now. I’ve buried it all under layers of callousness, of distance. The past doesn’t matter anymore. I made my choice.
It’s just that sometimes… I wonder.
A flash of memory comes to me unbidden, a scene I’d tried to forget.
I was a child. Barely old enough to walk but strong enough to feel the call of the pack. I could still remember how it felt when my father, the Alpha, stood before me, his eyes full of pride. He had made me his heir before I even understood what it meant. His gaze had never wavered when I failed, never softened when I was broken. He expected perfection.
But it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. Not for him, not for the others.
“Why don’t you stay?” My mother’s voice cuts through the silence, low and pleading. “You belong here, Mira. You’re more than just a wolf. You’re the future of the pack.”
I shake my head, unable to meet her eyes. Her words are like chains, heavy and suffocating. The weight of a life I never wanted.
“I don’t belong here,” I whisper, though I already know she won’t understand. The bond they tried to force on me was never mine to hold. The pack’s rules weren’t mine to follow. They didn’t want a leader like me. They wanted obedience, and I couldn’t give it to them.
“I’ll make you see,” she presses, voice tight with worry. “You can’t leave. You’re—”
“I’m not like you,” I snap, the words sharper than I intend. “I’m not like any of you.”
I saw the hurt flash in her eyes then, and it stuck with me. But it wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t me who turned away. It was them. They had all tried to force me into their mold, to make me fit into a place I didn’t want to be.
So I left.
I left the pack and everything that came with it.
I turned my back on everything they stood for.
And I never looked back.
The memory fades as quickly as it came, and I force myself to focus. I need to stop thinking about the past, stop giving in to the old feelings that used to haunt me. I’m not that girl anymore. I’m not a wolf in their pack. I’m an info broker. I’m a shadow. I’m alone.
But as much as I tell myself that, the emptiness always creeps in. The loneliness. The hollow space where a pack should be.
I’ve been on my own for years, working like a ghost, trading secrets, never looking back. It’s easier this way. I don’t get attached to anyone. No bonds. No trust.
Except…
Except for one person.
My fingers tighten around the edge of the booth as I remember her face. Evie.
The only person I’ve ever truly trusted. The only one who ever understood why I left.
But even she couldn’t stop me from walking away. I couldn’t stay. I wasn’t built for it. I wasn’t built to be a part of something I never fit into. And Evie? She was always loyal to the pack. Always bound by the rules.
I was always different. And in the end, that’s why I couldn’t stay.
The sound of the door opening breaks my thoughts. Another customer. I glance up, but my gaze is sharp, my posture unreadable. Another day. Another deal.
“Got what you need?” I ask, my voice cold and businesslike.
The man standing in front of me hesitates, and for a moment, I wonder if it’s the same nervous guy from earlier. But no. This one’s different. His eyes are hard, calculating, and he doesn’t seem afraid. In fact, there’s something about the way he stands that feels… familiar.
“I hear you’re the one to talk to if you need something… special,” he says, his lips curving into something almost like a smile. But it doesn’t reach his eyes.
I don’t smile back. “Depends on what you need.”
I can feel the tension in the air, the weight of what’s about to happen. I don’t know who this man is, but I know he’s trouble. And trouble is the last thing I need right now.
I take a step back, ready to move, to leave this behind. But something stops me.
Maybe it’s the familiar feeling of another wolf nearby.
And that’s the problem. I can never really leave the pack behind.
