Chapter 1 THE CALM BEFORE THE WORST DAY OF MY LIFE

"He's the sexiest person I've ever seen."

Cam said it with the kind of certainty that belongs to prophets and fools — and knowing Cam, the line between the two had always been dangerously thin.

I laughed. I couldn't help it.

"Ha. Ha. Very funny," I said.

"What?" She rolled off the edge of my bed and landed on the floor with the dignity of someone who had absolutely nothing to prove. "It's true."

Trinity stared down at her from the bed's edge, arms folded, entirely unconvinced. "He is the most powerful, cold person in this region. How on earth can you call that sexy?"

"Because," Cam said slowly, climbing back to her feet and reaching for her phone, "he has an eight pack." She paused for effect. "And — what if I'm his mate?"

The smirk she wore could have started wars.

"Cam." Trinity's voice dropped to something between a warning and a prayer. "You cannot mate with a monster."

Cam shrugged. The shrug of a woman who had already made up her mind and was simply waiting for the world to catch up.

I rolled my eyes, laid back, and stared at the ceiling fan. It turned slowly — round and round — indifferent to all of us, as ceiling fans have always been.

"How do you imagine your mate, Jenna?"

I felt both of them look at me. I propped myself up on my elbows.

"Why do you ask?"

They rolled their eyes in perfect unison. It was almost impressive.

"You're the only one who never talks about it," Cam said. "Trinity already found hers. He marked her two days after they met."

Trinity touched the mark at her neck, reflexively, the way people touch something precious without realising it.

I looked at them both, then back at the ceiling fan.

"I don't know," I said quietly. "I just want him to love me. To take care of me." I felt them go still, so I kept going — because sometimes the truth is easier when no one is looking directly at you. "I want him to take me away from this pack. Somewhere with open land. Somewhere I can breathe. I want pups with him. I want our children to look like something only the two of us could have made together."

I paused.

"I can't wait to find him."

Neither of them said a word. I groaned and laid back down.

"Sometimes I wonder," I admitted, more to the fan than to them, "if he's even looking for me. And then I wonder — if he found me, would he reject me?"

"Don't." Cam's voice was sharp and immediate. "Don't you ever say that. Look at you, Jenna. You're practically an angel."

I smiled at the fan. "Let's hope he thinks so too."

"He will," Cam said. Then, after a beat: "Especially since we already know his name starts with a 'D.'"

She winked. She actually winked.

"No," I said flatly. "Not him."

"Whatever you say, girl."

—

The classroom the following morning was loud and restless, the way it always was before something disrupted the rhythm of ordinary life — though none of us knew that yet. I was nudging Cam for the third time, whispering for the answer to the question I had missed entirely.

"Pst. Cam."

Nudge.

"Cam."

Nudge.

"Cam —"

"If you nudge me one more time," she said, very quietly, very precisely, "I will break every single one of your —"

Nudge.

She turned.

And then the Alpha's voice came — not through the door, not through the walls, but through the mind-link, resonating inside every skull in the room with the quiet force of someone who had never once needed to raise his voice.

This is your Alpha. The entire pack is meeting at the Battle Field. If you are a student, get out of your seat — no questions — and make your way to the field. You have three minutes.

The room moved. Everyone stood, chairs scraping, books abandoned mid-page. Cam was already scanning the corridor for her brother Dave before I could say a word. She walked away without looking back, and I let her go, moving ahead toward the field alone.

It took five minutes. Our Alpha had said three. Everyone ran.

By the time I arrived, the pack had assembled in formation — a living map of rank and bloodline. I made my way to the front, as protocol demanded. My father was Third-in-command. At gatherings like this, hierarchy was not merely observed. It was worn.

I stood beside my brother Anthony and his mate Max. My parents stood up front, flanking the Alpha and Beta. Beta Tom beside his mate, their eldest son Maddox steady and broad as something carved from oak. And at the head of it all, Alpha Ian beside Luna Zach, their son Dakota just behind them — standing the way young men stand when they know the eyes of an entire pack are measuring them.

"What's happening?" I murmured to Anthony.

"Some pack is coming to make terms with us."

"What kind of terms?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but Alpha Ian's voice rose across the field before he could.

"Hello, Wisdom Pack. Thank you for coming on such short notice." He spoke the way people do when they have carried authority for so long it has become part of their posture. "Nothing has happened. But we are going to be visited by a foreign pack. You will learn who they are tomorrow. They are coming to discuss the terms of a mutual agreement — they offer military assistance when we need it, and in return, we help educate their young." He paused, letting the arrangement settle over the crowd. "The visiting Alpha will arrive with his Beta and Third-in-command. I ask that our children — who will stand in for their parents tomorrow — be given every measure of your patience and your grace."

A wave of anxious faces rippled through the crowd. I glanced at Dakota. He was already looking at me, brow furrowed.

Do you know the pack's name? I mouthed.

He shrugged. A small, lopsided smile followed.

If I did, I would have mind-linked you. His voice settled into my mind, and I startled badly enough to make him smirk.

Your father doesn't tell you anything.

Dad doesn't trust me. Apparently I have a big mouth.

That is true.

He raised an eyebrow.

You want to know what else is —

Don't. I shot him a look. Don't you dare.

He looked away, and the chuckle he tried to swallow came out anyway — loud enough for his father's gaze to find him like a searchlight.

I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing.

—

Afterward, out on the field, Dakota lay across my stomach like he had no concept of personal space and even less of consequences.

"Get off of me, you fat whale."

"There's no fat," he said against my stomach, entirely unbothered. "It's the muscles. The muscles are crushing you."

We argued. We wrestled. He went limp. I nearly had him, and then I didn't. My head hit his chest. We lay there groaning in unison, staring up at a sky that asked no questions and gave no answers.

When we finally walked back — Dakota, Maddox, and I — we hooked arms and moved in a loose, easy line, the kind you can only make with people you have known long enough to stop performing for. They were both 6'5". I was 5'11". I skipped a little to keep up, and neither of them said anything about it.

That evening, I sat between them on the couch while they played COD. I played with their hair the way I always had — absently, thoughtlessly — and Dakota leaned into my hand without ever taking his eyes from the screen.

I closed my eyes.

—

The next day came, as days always do.

And let me tell you something about that next day.

It was the worst I had ever lived through.

And that is exactly where we need to begin.