Susan

The Red Valley werewolf pack was basically a checklist of every omegaverse cliché ever scribbled by fanfic writers with a caffeine addiction and zero grasp of subtlety. Omegas in perpetual swoony peril, alphas who thought brooding was an extreme sport, and betas who were somehow either invisible or ridiculously overqualified—Red Valley had it all. And then came Susan. Susan, a beta of alarming competence and patience bordering on saintly, had transferred into Red Valley for the fat bonus that came with maxing out an APB for betas. She had imagined stepping into the pack as a minor cog, keeping order, maybe adjusting a few things here and there, and then collecting her reward. She had underestimated one thing: lunacy. The pack was chaos incarnate. Alpha Max, with all the authority of a soggy napkin, stumbled through leadership as if it were interpretive dance. Omegas fainted at the slightest breeze. Alphas growled at their own shadows. Meetings consisted mostly of dramatic pauses and passive-aggressive tail flicks. Susan, being a beta and a reasonable human being in a literal circus, realized she could do a better job running the pack blindfolded, on one paw, and possibly while solving complex calculus problems in her head. So, like any self-respecting beta with an ounce of common sense, she challenged Max for control. Publicly. Loudly. With style. And a touch of sarcasm. Because if a beta like her couldn’t run this pack better than the alpha could on his best day, well, it was clearly a cosmic tragedy. Within hours, she had everyone—half terrified, half begrudgingly respectful—taking notes while Max floundered. Somehow, Susan’s entrance didn’t just improve the pack’s efficiency; it turned Red Valley from a soap-opera disaster into a moderately organized circus. And that, dear reader, is how a beta arrived to fix chaos with nothing but sheer competence… and the occasional sarcastic eye-roll.