Leah Clearwater stood at the edge of the cliffs, the wind whipping through her hair as she stared out at the vast expanse of ocean below. The waves crashed against the rocks, mirroring the turmoil that never seemed to leave her heart. It was here, standing alone with nothing but the wind and the waves, that she could almost forget what she had become. Almost.

She closed her eyes and thought back to that night—the night everything changed.

It had been an ordinary evening. Her father, Harry Clearwater, was sitting in his favorite chair, reading the newspaper, while her brother Seth chatted excitedly about some superhero comic he'd just read. Leah had been in the kitchen, washing dishes, when she felt it: a sudden heat, like a furnace igniting beneath her skin. It surged through her, taking over every cell, every thought, until all she could feel was fire. And then, before she knew it, she had transformed.

Her father's face was the first thing she saw, his eyes wide with shock and fear as he clutched his chest. And then he was on the ground, gasping, while Seth screamed for help. Leah tried to reach him, tried to change back, but it was too late. By the time she regained control of herself, her father was gone, and nothing she could say or do would bring him back.

"I killed him," she whispered to herself, clenching her fists so tightly that her nails dug into her palms. "I killed my own father."

In the days that followed, the weight of his death settled over her like a shroud. The Quileute elders tried to comfort her, telling her it wasn't her fault, that the transformation was something beyond her control. But their words did little to ease the guilt that gnawed at her. How could she not blame herself when her mother, Sue, cried herself to sleep every night? When Seth, who used to idolize her, could barely look at her without seeing the monster she had become?

And to make matters worse, the Clearwaters were now struggling. Her father had been the main breadwinner, and without him, they were left to rely on the charity of the other tribe members. It was humiliating, and Leah could see the pitying looks they received whenever they walked through La Push. She hated it.

She hated them.

But most of all, she hated the Cullens.

"They're the reason this happened," she muttered under her breath, digging her fingers into the damp soil at her feet. "If they hadn't come back, if they hadn't moved so close… I'd still be normal. I'd still have my family."

It was an easy answer, and one that she clung to with all her might. Hating the Cullens meant she didn't have to face the painful truth that her father's death was tied to her. It was their fault, not hers. If they hadn't settled in Forks, if they hadn't brought their unnatural existence into their lives, none of this would have happened.

But even as she repeated those words to herself, she could feel the doubt creeping in. It was never that simple, was it? Still, she refused to let go of that hatred—it was the only thing that kept her from drowning in her guilt.

"Leah?"

She turned sharply, snapping out of her thoughts. Her younger brother, Seth, stood a few feet away, his expression wary. "What are you doing out here?" he asked, rubbing his arms against the chill of the wind.

"Nothing," she replied, her tone sharper than she intended. "Just… thinking."

Seth sighed and walked over to stand beside her, his eyes following hers out to the ocean. "You don't have to do this, you know," he said softly. "You don't have to carry all this anger."

Leah's jaw tightened. "What else am I supposed to do, Seth? Just pretend everything's fine? That Dad didn't die because of me?"

"He didn't die because of you," Seth insisted, his voice firm. "You didn't ask for this, Leah. None of us did."

"Doesn't matter," she muttered, refusing to meet his gaze. "It happened, and now we have to live with it."

Seth was quiet for a moment, and then he said, "Maybe… maybe you could try talking to someone. One of the other pack members, or Mom—"

"No," Leah snapped, cutting him off. "I don't need anyone's pity. I just… I need to figure this out on my own, okay?"

Seth's shoulders slumped, but he didn't argue. "Alright," he said quietly. "But just… don't shut us out, okay? We're still family."

Leah watched as he walked away, his footsteps fading into the wind. She waited until he was out of sight before letting out a shuddering breath. Family. How could she face her family when every time she looked at them, all she saw was the life they'd lost because of her?

As she stood there, fighting back tears she refused to shed, a sudden movement caught her eye. A flash of white, just at the edge of the forest. Leah tensed, her senses sharpening as she caught the unmistakable scent of the Cullens. One of them was watching her, lingering just beyond the tree line.

"Of course they're here," Leah muttered bitterly. "Why wouldn't they be?"

Anger surged through her veins, hot and electric, and before she could stop herself, she shifted. Her body expanded, fur sprouting from her skin as her bones twisted and cracked, reshaping into the form of a massive gray wolf. She let out a low, threatening growl, baring her teeth in the direction of the intruder.

The figure didn't move, didn't retreat. And for a moment, Leah considered charging forward, just to see if they would flinch. But she stayed where she was, muscles coiled tight, daring them to come closer.

After what felt like an eternity, the figure finally turned and disappeared back into the shadows of the forest. Leah watched until she was certain they were gone, and then she shifted back, collapsing onto her knees with a ragged breath.

She hated them. She hated what they had made her, what she had lost because of them. But deep down, Leah knew that no matter how much she raged, no matter how much she blamed the Cullens, it wouldn't bring her father back. It wouldn't change the fact that she was stuck in this form, trapped in a body that wasn't entirely her own.

And it wouldn't erase the pain that burned in her heart every single day.

"I'll never forgive them," she whispered to the wind, tears finally slipping down her cheeks. "I'll never forgive myself."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Leah Clearwater stood alone on the cliffs, letting the darkness wash over her. And for the first time in a long while, she allowed herself to feel every bit of the sadness, the anger, and the overwhelming guilt that had consumed her since that fateful night.

Leah Clearwater had known heartbreak before—she had felt it when her father died, felt it with every pitying glance thrown her way by those who knew what she'd lost. But nothing, nothing compared to the agony of watching the man she loved choose someone else. Not because he wanted to, but because he had to.

It was an unspoken truth in the Quileute tribe: imprinting wasn't a choice. It was a phenomenon that tied a shifter to his mate in an unbreakable, undeniable bond. A single moment, a single look, and everything changed forever. For Sam Uley, that moment had come when he met Leah's cousin, Emily.

Leah could still remember the day it happened, as if it had been etched into her memory with a blade. She and Sam had been together for almost three years then. He had been her first love, her everything. He had promised her a future, whispered sweet nothings about how he wanted to grow old with her, to build a life together in La Push. Leah had believed him—how could she not? The warmth of his arms around her felt more real than anything else in her world.

But then Emily came to visit. Emily, with her bright eyes and infectious laughter, her kind heart, and the way she could light up any room she walked into. Leah had been excited to introduce her to Sam, to show off the man she knew she would spend her life with. But the moment Emily stepped out of the car and Sam saw her, everything changed.

Leah had seen it, the way Sam's eyes widened, how every ounce of love he'd ever shown her drained from his gaze, replaced with something else—something primal and instinctual. He had imprinted. And in that split second, Leah's entire world crumbled around her.

"You… you're kidding, right?" Leah had whispered to him that night, her voice trembling as they stood by the cliffs, the ocean roaring in the distance. Sam looked at her with eyes that were already somewhere else, with someone else. "This… this can't be happening, Sam. It's me, remember? It's us."

"I wish I could explain it," he had said, and Leah would never forget how broken he sounded, how torn apart he looked. "But it's not something I can control. It's like… it's like my whole soul just shifted, Leah. I love you—I'll always love you—but this… it's different. It's not something I can fight."

"Well, try!" Leah had screamed, hot tears streaking down her face. "Try to fight it, damn it! Don't just—don't just walk away from everything we've built! We had plans, Sam! We were going to build a life together, you promised me!"

Sam flinched, as if her words were physical blows. "I know," he whispered. "And I'm so sorry. But I can't be with you anymore. It's not fair to you, and it's not fair to Emily. I have to follow this… this bond."

And just like that, he was gone. He became Emily's, leaving Leah with nothing but a broken heart and the shattered pieces of what might have been.

Leah's hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms as she sat on the edge of her bed, staring blankly at the wall. She could still hear the laughter of her mother and brother from downstairs. They were getting used to things—getting used to Emily's presence, getting used to the fact that Sam was now family in a way that Leah had never imagined. But Leah would never get used to it. How could she?

Emily had tried to reach out, countless times. She'd shown up on Leah's doorstep, tears in her eyes, asking for forgiveness. "I never wanted this, Leah," she'd said one afternoon, her voice cracking. "I would never have hurt you. If I could give this bond back, I would. You have to believe me."

But Leah couldn't. All she saw when she looked at Emily was everything she had lost. Her best friend, her cousin, and the love of her life—all gone in the blink of an eye. And as much as she wanted to, as much as she tried to summon the words to tell Emily that it wasn't her fault, Leah couldn't. So she had shut the door, locking her cousin out of her life just as Sam had shut Leah out of his heart.

The worst part was having to see them together. The way Sam looked at Emily as if she was the only thing in the world that mattered. The way he touched her, spoke to her, held her close—it was everything Leah had once dreamed of. And now, it was nothing more than a painful reminder of what she would never have.

And as if the universe wasn't done mocking her, Leah was forced to endure the ultimate punishment: being part of Sam's pack. She could hear his thoughts, feel his emotions, know every moment he spent with Emily, every kiss, every whispered "I love you." There was no escape from the torment, no way to shut out the pain. It was relentless, tearing at her soul every time she phased into her wolf form.

"Why her?" Leah muttered to herself late one night, her voice barely above a whisper as she sat alone in the forest, her knees pulled to her chest. "Why did it have to be her?"

The wind rustled the leaves around her, but there was no answer. There never would be.

"You think you can just imprint and it'll be okay?" she growled, her voice thick with unshed tears. "You think that just because some stupid magic says you're supposed to be together, that everything we had means nothing?"

But even as she said it, Leah knew it wasn't true. She had seen the way Sam looked at Emily, the way he cared for her. It wasn't about her, or even about Sam. It was something bigger, something older and more powerful than either of them could understand. And that was what hurt the most—that there was no one to blame, no one to hate except the universe itself.

Leah wiped angrily at her eyes, refusing to let herself cry. She'd shed enough tears over Sam Uley, enough tears over a future that would never be. But deep down, she knew that as much as she wanted to let go, as much as she wanted to move on, part of her would always be stuck in that moment—forever waiting for Sam to turn back, to choose her instead.

And maybe, just maybe, that was the cruelest part of it all.

Leah Clearwater stood at the entrance of the forest looking at the tall trees in front of her, her hands clenched into fists. The wind whipped her hair around her face, stinging her eyes, but she welcomed the bite of the cold. It was a reminder that she was still here, still fighting, even if she felt like she was breaking apart inside.

All she wanted was to leave Forks—to get away from the constant pain, the relentless reminder of everything she had lost. But that wasn't an option. Not when Sam was the alpha, not when his word was law.

"You need to stay, Leah," Sam had told her that morning, his voice carrying the weight of authority that she couldn't ignore. It didn't matter that she had begged, that she had asked for just a little bit of freedom, a little bit of space to heal. In the end, Sam's decision was final, and she had no choice but to obey.

"I don't care if you hate me," he had said, his tone calm but firm. "I need you here. The pack needs you. The Cullens aren't going anywhere, and we have to be ready if they make a move. You're strong, Leah. We can't afford to lose you."

And that was the end of it. Leah had been forced to swallow her resentment, to push down the ache that had settled deep in her chest and nod in compliance. Because that's what it meant to be part of a pack: you put the needs of others above your own, even when it hurt.

But it was more than that. It wasn't just about the physical chains that bound her to this place—it was the mental ones as well. Every time she shifted, every time she became the wolf, her thoughts, her fears, her anger were laid bare for everyone in the pack to see. And worse, Sam saw it all. Every dream where she woke up reaching for him, every moment of self-loathing, every sharp pang of jealousy she felt when she saw him with Emily.

There was no privacy, no way to hide. It was like being stripped down to her soul, forced to share every raw, painful emotion with the one person she wanted to hide from the most.

"I hate this," Leah whispered to herself, her voice barely audible over the roar of the sea. "I hate him. I hate all of them."

But it was more than just hatred. It was the sense of helplessness, of being trapped in a life that wasn't her own. And no matter how much she wanted to run, to scream, to tear herself away from this place, she knew she couldn't.

Sam had made his decision, and that was that. Leah Clearwater would remain in Forks, shackled by an invisible chain that no amount of running could break. Because that was the way of the pack. The alpha commanded, and the rest obeyed.

And Leah? She was just another wolf caught in a snare, waiting for a way out that would never come.

Leah took a deep breath, feeling the wind bite into her skin, and she let herself feel the cold. It was easier to focus on that than on the pain. She would survive this—she had to. But as she stared out into the darkness, she couldn't help but wonder if she'd ever find a way to truly be free.

Because being a shifter was hard. But being the one left behind, that was something else entirely.

Author's Note:

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