The Tribrid

The air crackled with the humid promise of a summer storm, a fitting prelude to the maelstrom brewing inside me. Tonight, I turned eighteen, and with it came the undeniable truth of the mate bond. For years, everyone — myself included — had assumed Mike, my oldest friend and the Alpha’s younger son, would be my fated mate. Our lives had been intertwined since childhood, a comfortable, predictable dance. Now, as the minutes ticked down to midnight, I sat on the back steps of the Pack House, the full moon a luminous orb above us, its silent judgment hanging heavy in the air.

Mike sat beside me, his arm a familiar weight around my shoulders. The casual intimacy of our bond was a balm, yet also a bittersweet reminder of the future we’d both envisioned. We didn't speak, the unspoken questions too vast, too terrifying to voice. His phone glowed, a stark countdown to a moment that would either confirm our shared destiny or tear it irrevocably apart. I squeezed my eyes shut, a desperate wish forming: let everything stay the same. Let me not lose my best friend.