𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖕𝖔𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖔𝖓

𝖆𝖑𝖕𝖍𝖆 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖒𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖊

WARNING. THIS CHAPTER COULD INCLUDE POSSIBLE DISTURBING TOPICS SUCH AS DEPRESSION, ABUSE, AND S*XUAL ASSULT. THESE SCENARIOS ARE FOR READING ONLY, NOT FOR INFLICTED SELF HARM. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

"full name"

is this dude serious? I sigh.

"Hermione Jean Granger"

"identity true, enter omega"

I huffed from the comment, it's fake.

he stepped aside, letting me into the pack house. I live here and I still need to identify myself, ridiculous.

the guard, certain his name was Darius, reminded me that my parents wanted to see me. goody

pushing aside I entered my home, the pack house of southern London, the Moonstone Pack.

we take up 1/4 of London's population.

every inch of this country is claimed by some sort of supernatural pack. as far as the wolfs, we are ranked third.

the Barron pack ranked 4th.

the Gold Claw pack ranked 2nd.

and the Serpent pack ranked 1st. the king of all supernaturals.

if you haven't noticed already we are werewolves

our pack population consists of 200 wolf members

larger packs can hold over 5,000 werewolf's, it depends on ranking.

the three main positions are Alpha, Beta, and Delta.

our Alpha, Hector Dagworth, runs the pack.

he is our superior, our leader

"good morning Hermione" he greets me the moment I step into the pack house. but as always, on speaker phone.

"morning Alpha, yet again you have ceased to greet me in person" I sarcastically say. the last time we saw eachother face to face was weeks ago for a pack meeting.

not that I enjoy his presence so much, but he's one of the only people who cares to chat with me, even if it is only a simple good morning.

"maybe another day Hermione" then the silence returned.

scratch off trying to hang out with someone today, like usual.

I headed into the kitchen, to see it empty.

not sure if this is to my advantage or disadvantage. I have peace to myself or I'm lonely.

although I'm probably jinxing it, my day's are never pleasant.

I brought out a skillet from the cupboard and eggs from the fridge.

soon enough I had a hardy breakfast, scrambled eggs and coffee.

"look the creature made me breakfast"

the voice behind me belonged to an idiotic jockey wolf, Ethan. 18 year old wolf with tan skin, blue eyes, blond hair, and a frame of about 6 feet tall. he walked in with his group of friends that don't make my life any easier.