All Chapters of Journey to the last Werewolf Pack: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Becca I’m giddy with excitement all through rehearsal. I’ve met another werewolf. I can’t believe it. Every five minutes, my hand flies to my back pocket to take out my phone and text him, but I resist the temptation. I need to focus and finish with each band member as quickly as possible. Scott, the lead, has been a pain in my ass since day one. At first, he said I couldn’t be his sound engineer because men have better hearing, and he knows I will fuck up his tour. His manager convinced him to ‘give me one night so that I can prove myself’. Like I need to prove anything to anyone, I’ve been working on concerts for six years, and my reputation succeeds me. I have a team of the best technicians, and there has never been a complaint on any of the shows I did. Thanks to my werewolf hearing, I can detect any problem before anybody else hears it; I can easily balance all the speakers from my stage and distinguish each instrument regardless of the arena's size. I can choose which tour I

Becca My heartbeat pounds in my ears like a drum as I turn away. Shaky breaths leave Bliss’ jaw as she sits back on her hind legs. Is Jason as excited as I am? Is he trembling like a leaf as I am? Anticipation is killing me as I wait for him to shift. The moon is so bright tonight that my eyes burn after staring at it for too long, leaving a crescent shape in my vision when I close my eyes. Finally, a snout nudges my side, and I brace my muscles to keep me straight as I turn. Makya's dark blue eyes shine like crystals in the dark, and his fur is onyx-black, barely reflecting the moonlight. ‘Bliss?’ I ask, admiring how magnificent he is. His chest puffed out, his ears listening intently; he is a predator. Even without moving an inch, I can see how his muscles are built to hunt, to run, to fight. Bliss steps closer, scenting him. His scent of pine tree and rosehip. ‘Not mates,’ she sighs sadly. ‘He is so gorgeous, though.’ I exhale a sigh of relief. I won’t be rejected tonight.

Becca “Smoke is coming from the stage,” a frightened voice bellows in my earpiece, and I immediately reach for the end of the console to turn it off. “Shut down everything,” I reply, jumping from my small stage to run towards the stage. “Get everyone off the stage. The main distributor is next to entrance B2,” I instruct my team and look towards that on the way. Two of my assistants rush to the door to find the main fuse and switch off the electricity in the whole arena. Someone shrieks as the arena darkens. The exit signs are the only lights, and we all turn on the flashlight on our phones to navigate in the dark. I can already smell the scent of overheated equipment and mutter a curse, hoping it won’t burst into flames. “Everyone, find an exit and leave,” I yell, my voice echoing through the empty walls. If an amplifier or a speaker catches on fire, it can start a chain of reaction, and the sound system can be damaged or burned down in a matter of minutes. I pick up my speed. N

Becca The comfort and ease of being home after a long tour are always so soothing. I’m on the road so much that I don’t rent an apartment. I spend most of the in-between time with my parents anyway. The kitchen is filled with the scents of my favorite foods, and falling back into the routine of living on a farm is like second nature to me. Despite having a lot to do before winter arrives, our years of experience make us efficient. The old log house, the garden, and the few animals around it are the places of most of my happy memories. After the years of the slaughter of our pack, we learned to grow our food and provide for ourselves. Dad started working as a delivery man, even though he had to be careful not to lift too heavy boxes and crates, while Mom worked in the local school. With three children, they’ve never been able to save enough money for college for all of us, but they supported us the best they could. Luckily, as werewolves, we don’t weaken much with age. My parents

Becca With my bags lined up by the wall, we sit in the kitchen again. Jason’s tense shoulders tell me everything. “To be honest, I thought I’d never see you again. The way your texts got so vague since you arrived home made me feel like you moved on to something else,” he says while I drink some juice to quench my parched throat. “I kind of felt the same from your side,” I reply, but add quickly: “I’ve been researching things I couldn’t share with you over the phone.” “I assume that research led you somewhere because you are here with all this camping stuff,” he looks at my giant backpack with narrowed eyes, which has several things hanging from hooks and nooks. “Yeah,” I laugh at the face he makes. “I’m not really the over-shopping type, but I couldn’t stop myself this time. Even though I’m a werewolf, we slept in tents on floatable mattresses during camping trips and mostly cooked our food. I don’t plan on living solely on raw meat while we travel. Do you?” “Urgh, no,” he repli