Hank Danvers had been a tyrant.

Even before the death of his wife, he had ruled over the Pack with an iron fist, maintaining its’ control by enforcing fear. He was cunning and smart, being the first Alpha to collaborate with other supernatural beings. He tried to justify his actions by convincing the Pack that all he did was for their protection and safety. That one slip up, one thing out of order could expose them to the humans, and ruin their lives forever. No one dared to doubt him, and this went on for a very long time.

There had been an outstanding peace treaty for a century or so between the wolves and the neighboring Coven of witches, and Hank knew how to take advantage of this. During his reign, both sides worked together on several occasions, mostly fueling their businesses, ensuring the secrecy of their kind, and helping get representatives from both sides involved with the town. Keeping up appearances was a major deal for them all. Because the wolves were more business savvy, they were able to help the witches thrive.

With the Coven in his pocket, Hank had the advantage of using their gifts to always knowing if anyone dared to think of betraying him. A simple thought of going against him, would instantly be brought to his attention, and the accused would be killed on the spot. He showed no mercy, and made plenty of examples. With his enforcers at his side, a trio of brothers almost as cruel as he was, no one dared to go against him. There was an incident where two members of the Pack had simply spoke out, calling for just a little peace…but of course, Hank saw this as the beginning of a much bigger betrayal. He had torn one’s tongue out…ripping the other’s jaw clean from their skull.

He was a monster. And no one truly mourned him once he was gone.

But despite this; how evil all saw him; how horrible he was to others…there was no one that Hank cared and loved for more than his wife and their daughter. It was a soft side that no one aside from Lydia and Ophelia ever got to see.

When Lydia was murdered, Hank had turned to the Witches, blaming the Coven for not forewarning them of her fate. They insistently told Hank, that despite their gifts of premonitions, they couldn’t always see what truly was as opposed to what may be. Enraged, he warned them what would come if they failed him again. Terrified, one young witch; Calista, came forward and exposed their most recent of visions to him.

His own downfall, brought on by a white wolf.

Hank was confused. Aside from his late wife, the only other white wolf in his Pack was their daughter, Ophelia. But the child was only ten. How could she be his downfall? When the witches failed to give him more information, Hank returned to his Pack in a rage. In what was described later as a blind and reckless panic, Hank let the vision go to his head. He became even more irrational, manic even. The ‘white wolf’ haunted him day and night, until finally he snapped.

Ophelia had just turned sixteen, when the witches’ visions started becoming much more frequent. Even though he didn’t suspect his daughter of betraying him, Hank couldn’t help but wonder of her possible involvement and began to feel the slightest bit of hatred towards her which only grew. He started to shut her out, and wouldn’t allow her to go on runs and hunts with him anymore. He wouldn’t even let her Change around him, and anywhere she went, Hank made sure that she was closely watched.

As his paranoia grew, Hank became obsessed with adding to his number of followers and those who could protect him, and came up with the plan to track down all the wolves who didn’t belong to the Pack. Mutts. Despite knowing that it was a small pack of Mutts who had killed his wife, he just didn’t care anymore. Whether they were pureblood, or had been turned, they were all hunted down, and all were offered the same thing; the choice to either join the Pack and pledge loyalty to him…or die.

It would be years before anyone tried to turn against him again.

The Crescent was located on one of the more edgier parts of town. Smack in the middle of all the New Age stores and vintage clothing shops, it had originally been an Italian restaurant before the Pack bought the spot out, turning it into a pub and grill. Ophelia had basically grown up in it, had always found sanctuary in the Tuscany styled brick and cobblestone. It was the one place where she ever felt…normal.

Her mother had run it for most of her childhood, but of course back then it was for the Pack only, and under his orders several of her father’s men had scared off any human who tried to enter, giving the place a bad reputation for a while. The bar was shut down for several years after her mother’s passing. On her twentieth birthday, Ophelia had taken over management, reopening the place, allowing in more to the locals who had always passed by in the past rather than come in, much to her father’s dismay. With the support of Silas and the others, it was the one place that they were able to push her father out from. And now that he was truly gone, the place just felt like home. Safe.

Next door to the bar was a Pagan bookstore run by a Coven witch by the name of Genevieve Winters. As one of the Coven leaders, Gen and Ophelia had become very close friends. In fact, she was the only one whom Ophelia had been able to confide in about her nightmares. After taking down Hank, Ophelia had worked with the Coven to revamp their former treaty, establishing a more equal relationship as opposed to the one her father had been so insistent of. Of course, Ophelia’s new status had angered a few witches, but Genevieve and the others who remained had been able to keep the peace with the wolves.

As Ophelia passed the bookstore, she caught sight of Gen working on a new window display of crystals and books, and waved at her. The sunlight reflecting off the crystals cast the witch a pretty glow of colors. Gen started to wave back, but paused. Noticing her friend’s look of concern, Ophelia pushed on before the witch had the chance to join her outside and question her. It was hours before she usually came in to open the bar and she knew the witch had picked up on that.

Greeted by the large, glowing purple crescent moon on the bar’s front door, the sweet smell of pine and whiskey teased her senses as she pushed inside, sighing softly. The quiet greeted her like an old friend and she instantly felt herself begin to relax.

Above the cash register was an old black-and-white photograph of her mother. It had been a candid shot, taken by a member of the Pack. Lydia was smiling, waving at her friend from behind the bar. Every time Ophelia saw the photo, she felt a slight tug in her chest, but she always returned her mother’s smile.

It was the one thing about Lydia that Ophelia really remembered about her mother.

“Hi Mamma…” she kissed one fingertip and brushed it gently against the frame’s glass.

As she settled in behind the bar, Ophelia started to focus on inventory and getting things ready for when she’d open later that afternoon. It was easy to forget that it was still her birthday and the events from that morning. She made a mental note to call Delia later and apologize. She was her best friend, she’d understand…

It was nice getting lost in her work. She had lost track of time, and almost didn’t notice when the front door opened, a familiar scent invading her space. Sweet lavender and sage, mixed with old books. Looking up from behind the bar, Ophelia grinned.

“Hey lady!” Gen slid onto one of the bar stools, smiling brightly. Her long auburn hair was pulled back from her face in a messy braid, a feather dangling from the end of it. Pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose, she rested her arms against the bar. With a slight flick of one wrist, a glass flew into her hand, followed by a bottle of wine. Ophelia chuckled softly as she witch poured herself a glass of wine without even using her hands.

“Lazy much?” she teased gently.

Gen laughed. “Don’t hate…you know you wish you had powers…”

Rolling her eyes in reply, Ophelia grabbed for a glass of her own and took the wine from the witch, pouring a glass for herself.

“So, you’re here pretty early…”

“Had some things to do…” was her mumbled reply.

“On your birthday? Really?”

Gen watched Ophelia closely as she shrugged and pressed on. “-no one else could cover for you? Aren’t you the boss lady? Shouldn’t there be some ‘it’s-my-birthday’ kind of perks? I’m sure you could have taken the day for yourself…”

Ophelia looked over at the witch sheepishly. “What can I say, all work and no pla-“

Gen quickly raised a hand, cutting Ophelia off. “Please don’t finish that sentence.” She paused to take a sip of her wine. The pentagram she wore around her neck reflected against the glass, and Ophelia watched it almost mesmerized.

“You’re avoiding your Pack again.”

“I am not!”

Gen snorted, rolling her eyes at how quick the defensive reply had come. “Please, I know you Ophelia…you’ve been avoiding them since those dreams of yours started and you know it!” She paused, waiting to be corrected or cut off again. When no reply came, she continued, “-look, I’m not trying to be a bitch. But you’ve been so closed off lately. I’d be lying to you if I said they hadn’t noticed…that there are doubts…”

Ophelia flinched, focusing on her glass. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t already suspected this. She hadn’t been prepared to become Alpha, hadn’t even been trained. It had basically fallen at her feet the same time that Hank’s body had. It was the law of the Pack. The wolf who brought down the current Alpha became the Alpha themselves.

“It should have been Silas…” she finally said, so softly that Gen almost didn’t even hear her. Silas had been the one who had first challenged her father. Ophelia had just gotten in the way…

But Hank had almost killed him…she couldn’t just stand there.

“You’re wrong.” Gen leaned across the bar, grabbing Ophelia’s free hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Don’t forget Calista’s prophecy…it was always going to be you…”

“But you cannot keep shutting them all out, that is exactly what your father had done.”

Ophelia looked at Gen and nodded, sighing in defeat. “I know…”

Finishing off her wine, Gen pushed her chair back as she stood up. “I should head back to the shop. I left one of the newbies in charge over there…but they’re a little useless…” She chuckled softly and shook her head. “Ophelia. You got this. The whole Coven knows you will be just fine…we’ve seen it.” Hearing this brought a little comfort to Ophelia and she nodded. “Thanks Gen…”

“I’ll see you later birthday girl!”

Ophelia watched her friend go and leaned against the bar, sighing softly.

Yeah…she got this…