"That's the problem between you and I, you went from obscure to moral alpha. Me? I'm taking advantage of this, and looking damn good in my Jimmy Choo's while doing it." Paige LaRaye Monroe isn't the average story. She thought things that go bump in the night didn't exist in the real world, they weren't supposed to. Paige was the middle, not too close to popular to taste it yet definitely far away from the bottom of the totem pole. Not the smartest in the school, but her solid B average kept her far away from the stoners who didn't know their left from their right. The middle sucked. Then she died. At least the papers said she died. Died at the hands of a wild animal attack. But she didn't die. And it wasn't some wild animal. It was one of fairy tales and young adult fiction books that she avoided like the plague. Now she can hear better than ever, run faster than she ever thought she could. Paige is a werewolf. Not just any kind, one who's eyes illuminate a bright red that shakes fear in other werewolves. So maybe Paige Monroe did die, but the birth of a new persona began. The beginning of Saraya Paige Taylor. So leaving Miami, where Paige Monroe died, she headed to Beacon Hills as Saraya Taylor. Saraya thought leaving the dead her behind to start a new was a big adjustment, she finds herself swimming in a sea of trouble and mediocrity in her mind with a crazed pack of alphas gunning for her and some dude with a slack jaw and a heart of gold who's eyes glow red and isn't scared of anything. { Season 3A }