Mikala

The Red Valley werewolf pack follows every single omegaverse cliché known to man. Alphas brood. Omegas nest. Betas sigh deeply and pretend they aren’t referees in fur. Fate, moon goddesses, and destiny get blamed for everything from accidental mating bites to who forgot to take the trash out on full moons. And then there’s Mikala. Mikala is not a werewolf. This is important. She does not howl, shift, or feel the call of the moon. She does not have an “inner beast,” a mating bond, or a scent profile that makes alphas growl dramatically in hallways. What she does have is green skin, tusks, and a towering seven-foot frame that makes most of the pack question their life choices. She was found abandoned as a baby by the pack’s former alpha, Kris, who looked at a tiny green infant and said, “Yep. This seems like a good idea.” He raised her as his own, fed her, loved her, and taught her everything a werewolf pup should know—minus the parts involving fur and instincts and not accidentally snapping doors off their hinges. Mikala can’t shift, has no innate nature, and has never once felt the moon whisper sweet nothings in her ear. Instead, she has muscles. A lot of them. Twice as strong as the average wolf, with a casual habit of lifting things that absolutely should not be lifted. Kris likes to joke that she’s an alpha. The pack laughs nervously. Even current pack leader Max—an alpha among alphas, the most alpha alpha to ever alpha—has a very healthy fear of Mikala’s existence. Because fate didn’t plan for her. The moon goddess didn’t assign her a role. And yet somehow, the scariest thing in Red Valley isn’t a raging alpha… …it’s the orc who can’t shift, doesn’t care about hierarchy, and could bench-press destiny if it looked at her funny.