The incessant beeping of my phone dragged me from the depths of sleep. I slapped the alarm into silence, burrowing deeper into the covers, granting myself a few more precious minutes before the day truly began. Getting up was always a struggle, a slow crawl towards consciousness, which was why my alarm was set so early.

Finally, I peeled myself from the warmth of my bed, the familiar motions of my morning routine a comforting rhythm. Architect by day, at twenty-four, I was one of the youngest at Barton & Tom, a leading firm in London.

Coffee in hand, I boarded the train, my headphones already clamped over my ears. It wasn't just for the music; it was a shield. I could hear everything, literally, every whisper, every rustle, every distant siren. My senses were extraordinary, because I wasn't normal. I possessed a speed, agility, and strength that defied human limits.

No, I wasn't a superhero. I was a werewolf. But unlike most, I didn't live in a pack. Not a rogue, either. I belonged to the powerful Jade Moon Pack in North America, maintaining contact with my brother, Alpha Rick Anderson, and Beta Bobby. Still, I preferred this independent life. There was a reason I lived away.