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Alpha Female

Alpha Female

5.0
13 Chapters
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In this feminist twist on the werewolf genre, Professor Abby Stafford, a middle-aged academic grappling with burnout and personal struggles, seeks rejuvenation at Wolf Harbor Resort. Participating in a wellness program involving a new supplement, she anticipates a revitalizing summer. However, the resort harbors secrets, and Abby soon discovers unexpected side effects that challenge her understanding of herself and her place in the world. As she navigates these transformations, Abby emerges as a formidable leader, confronting both internal and external conflicts.  Readers have praised the novel for its mature protagonist, intelligent storytelling, and refreshing take on shapeshifter lore. It's a compelling read for those interested in character-driven paranormal narratives that emphasize personal growth and empowerment.

Chapter 1 Wolf Harbor Bound

Professor Abby Stafford had always believed in the power of a plan.

Lesson plans. Tenure tracks. Retirement accounts. If life was a garden, hers was meticulously plotted and perfectly pruned - until it wasn't.

Now, at forty-eight, Abby found herself staring out the window of a Greyhound bus, watching the world blur past in a haze of green and gold. She adjusted the glasses slipping down her nose and sighed. The other passengers - retirees in sweatshirts, families with sticky-fingered kids, a couple of exhausted hikers - paid her no mind. Good. Abby wasn't in the mood to explain why a respected professor of English Literature had packed a single suitcase and signed up for a "transformative wellness experience" at some obscure lakeside resort.

Truth was, she couldn't explain it to herself.

The burnout hadn't hit her all at once. It had seeped into her bones over years, hidden under deadlines and department meetings, disguised as "just another busy semester." She had ignored the warning signs: the sleepless nights, the creeping cynicism, the way even her beloved books started gathering dust. Her body ached in strange ways. Her mind frayed at the edges.

When the glossy Wolf Harbor Resort brochure had appeared - promising renewal, vitality, and "a bold new beginning" - it felt like a dare. Abby wasn't the daring type. But something inside her, a part she had long smothered with responsibilities and rationality, stirred.

She bought a ticket. She packed a bag. She didn't tell anyone.

The bus shuddered as it turned off the main highway, jostling Abby from her thoughts. Trees closed in, towering pines and dense underbrush. The road narrowed to a gravel path. Someone toward the back muttered, "Middle of nowhere," and Abby's heart gave a nervous flutter.

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe she should have stuck to the yoga studio downtown, or the sensible mindfulness retreat that her colleague Janet kept recommending.

But as the bus crested a hill, Wolf Harbor spread before them - a glittering lake cradled by forest, the water so still it seemed like glass. On the far shore stood the resort itself: low, timber-framed lodges with wide porches and trails winding into the woods. It looked peaceful. Inviting. Safe.

Abby tightened her grip on the strap of her leather bag. Safe wasn't why she had come.

The bus wheezed to a stop.

A man in a crisp navy uniform - not quite a bellhop, not quite security - boarded and called out names. "Stafford? Abigail Stafford?"

She rose, smoothing her linen jacket, and shuffled down the aisle.

The air outside was heavy with the scent of pine and loam, warmer than she expected. The uniformed man smiled politely and gestured toward a path leading to the main lodge.

"We're so glad you're here, Professor Stafford. Welcome to Wolf Harbor."

There was something odd about the way he said it - not just polite, but... expectant.

As if her arrival was not a random choice, but part of some larger design.

She shook off the thought.

She was here for yoga. Meditation. A little vitamin D and maybe some green smoothies.

That was all.

Inside the lodge, sunlight slanted through high windows. Wicker furniture, muted colors, a subtle smell of lavender - the kind of rustic luxury that was supposed to soothe frayed urban nerves. A slim woman in a tailored black dress greeted Abby at the check-in desk.

"You're just in time," she said, handing Abby a key card and a small amber bottle. "Orientation is about to begin. Please start taking these with dinner tonight - they're part of the rejuvenation protocol."

Abby examined the bottle. No label, just a tiny wolf emblem etched into the glass.

"Supplements?" she asked warily.

The woman smiled. "Think of them as a catalyst."

Abby was too tired to argue. She slipped the bottle into her bag, accepted a campus map - the grounds were much larger than she'd realized - and followed the signs to the meeting hall.

Outside, the air buzzed with insects and unseen birds. Beneath it, something else pulsed - a low vibration, almost below the threshold of hearing. Abby hesitated, one hand on the wooden railing.

She told herself it was just nerves.

She told herself this was a chance to heal, to find herself again.

She had no idea how right - and how wrong - she was.

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