When The Alpha Chooses A Human

I was already mourning what I was about to lose. The endless sunsets, the hot, heavy nights, the sand just steps from our front door.

All of it was fading before my eyes as I stood chewing the inside of my cheek, staring at the sign hammered into the lawn. One word, printed in bold red: SOLD.

Florida was the only place I'd ever known, my only anchor.

Since the day I was born, it had just been my grandma and me.

My mother died in childbirth, and my father... I knew nothing about him. His name, his face, his very existence—they were just blank spaces in my story. We never talked about him.

"Still staring at that sign, I see," my grandma said, coming up beside me.

In a few hours, this chapter of our lives would be over. We were leaving everything behind for Texas.

She assured me it was for the best, that the change would do us good. But I had no desire to start over somewhere I didn't know.

I had my friends here. And I had Tommy.

At eighteen, my life wasn't perfect, but it was mine, and it fit. School was going well. I had a part-time job and a tight group of friends I could always count on.

I knew she'd heard my protests, but they hadn't changed a thing. The decision was final.

"Maya, you'll meet other people. You'll make new friends. Maybe even find a new boyfriend. This is necessary, honey. Change is good."

Her words slid right off me. I didn't want new faces, let alone a new boy.

Tommy was my first love. Sure, he was three years older, but he had these clear blue eyes that could disarm me in a second and a kindness that meant more than anything.

My grandma, though, had never approved. She always said something about him felt off, that her instincts told her to be wary. But to me, he was different.

I knew I'd adapt eventually, that I'd meet other people, but that wasn't what haunted me. What I feared most was severing the invisible thread that still connected me to my mother.

"She's here," I whispered, more to myself than to my grandma.

"Of course she is," my grandma said softly, placing a hand over my heart. "Wherever you go, she's always right here with you."

I knew she was right, but this house, these walls, the sound of the waves crashing on the shore—it all made me feel like she was still close.

"How about we go make some hot cocoa? We could watch the sun disappear together," she offered.

"I'll grab a blanket," I answered immediately.

It was our ritual, our special moment: watching the sunset over the ocean. For me, the beach was more than just a view. It was a refuge.

I kicked off my shoes and spread the blanket over the still-warm sand before sitting down. The sky was streaked with shades of pink and orange, and the steady rhythm of the waves filled my ears.

A sigh escaped my lips. I knew I would never see this again. There were beaches in Texas, sure, but not this one. Not this light, not this familiar horizon.

"It's beautiful," I murmured.

"Maya?"

I jumped. When I turned, I saw Tommy walking toward me. I shot to my feet. He shouldn't have been here. We'd already said our goodbyes. His presence just made everything harder.

My eyes instinctively flicked to my grandma. She didn't like him, and she never tried to hide it.

"I can't let you leave like this," he said, pulling me into his arms. "The thought of never seeing you again... it's unbearable."

Tears pricked my eyes, and I fought to hold them back. I was going to miss him so much. These last few months, we'd been nearly inseparable.

"You shouldn't be here," I whispered against his chest. "This just makes it harder."

"I know, I'm sorry," he replied, his arms tightening around me. "But I love you, Maya. I love you more than anything."

A discreet cough cut through the moment. My grandma was coming back.

"We'll see each other again, I promise," he murmured, pressing a tender kiss to my lips before turning and walking away, his figure quickly swallowed by the growing darkness.

I looked down at my finger. The ring he'd given me shimmered faintly in the twilight. A promise he'd made six months into our relationship. A promise we might not have time to keep.