Chapter One

My mother's voice drifted up the stairs like smoke, curling under my bedroom door despite my attempts to block it out with my pillow.

"Lena! Come down right now. We need to talk about the hunting party!"

I groaned and rolled onto my back, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars I'd stuck to my ceiling when I was twelve. Six years later, they still glowed every night, a childhood comfort I couldn't bring myself to take down even though I'd turned eighteen last month.

"Lena Marie Blackwood! Don't make me come up there!"

With another groan, I swung my legs over the side of my bed and shuffled to my door. Mom had been obsessing about the annual hunting party for weeks now. As if I could forget the most dreaded event in werewolf society—at least for girls like me.

"Coming!" I called, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice. It wasn't Mom's fault. She was just following tradition, like everyone else in our pack.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I passed. My dark hair was pulled into a messy bun, with strands escaping in every direction. The shadows under my green eyes told the story of too many nights spent worrying about what was coming. My skin was pale despite my heritage—most werewolves had a permanent tan from spending so much time outdoors, but I preferred books and my bedroom to the forest. Another way I didn't fit in.

Mom was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, her arms crossed over her chest. She was beautiful in that effortless way that made other women jealous, her honey-blonde hair falling in perfect waves around her shoulders. Her blue eyes—so unlike my green ones—narrowed when she saw me.

"You look like you just rolled out of bed," she said, clicking her tongue. "The hunting party is in two days, Lena. We need to get you ready."

"Maybe I don't want to get ready," I muttered, sliding past her into the kitchen. I grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and bit into it with unnecessary force. "Maybe I don't want to go at all."

Mom followed me, her movements fluid and graceful. Even in sweatpants and a t-shirt, she looked like she could be on a magazine cover. The perfect Alpha's wife.

"We've been over this," she said, her voice softening. "Every unmated werewolf your age attends. It's how we find our mates. It's how I found your father."

I turned away so she wouldn't see me roll my eyes. I'd heard the story a thousand times—how my father, the mighty Alpha of the Blackwood Pack, had chosen her from all the available females at the hunting party twenty years ago. How romantic.

"The hunting party is barbaric," I said, tossing my half-eaten apple in the trash. "Girls paraded around like prizes while guys compete to 'mark' them. You do realize that in the human world, that's called assault, right?"

Mom's eyes flashed with a hint of gold—a sign her wolf was close to the surface. "That's just how our kind finds mates. The marking is sacred. It creates a bond—"

"A bond the girl has no say in!" I interrupted. "If a male wolf decides he wants you, he just bites you on the neck in front of everyone, and suddenly you belong to him? Forever? No questions asked, no consent needed?"

"Lena," Mom warned, but I was too angry to stop.

"And if the girl fights back? If she doesn't want to be marked by some random guy she just met? Oh right, he can kill her, and it's completely legal under pack law. Tell me again how that's not barbaric?"

The kitchen door swung open, and my father walked in, his massive frame filling the doorway. At six-foot-four with shoulders like a linebacker, James Blackwood was intimidating even to other werewolves. To humans, he was terrifying. Right now, his gray eyes were fixed on me with disapproval.

"Your mother and I can hear you shouting from my office," he said, his deep voice calm but edged with authority. The voice of an Alpha. "What's this about not attending the hunting party?"

I swallowed hard but stood my ground. One of the few perks of being the Alpha's daughter was that I could speak my mind without fear of being challenged—at least to a point.

"It's cruel, Dad," I said. "Every year, girls get hurt because males fight over them like they're property. Sometimes they die! Remember Ella Cohen last year? That jerk Marcus bit her, and when she tried to run, he broke her spine."

Dad's expression didn't change. "Marcus was punished accordingly."

"He was banned from attending future hunting parties," I spat. "Ella is dead."

"Lena," Mom said softly, placing a hand on my arm. "That was an isolated incident. Most matings are peaceful."

I jerked away from her touch. "Peaceful? Is that what we're calling it when a girl has no choice but to accept whatever male decides to bite her? When she's forced to leave her family and friends to join his pack? When she has to mate with him whether she loves him or not?"

Dad's eyes flashed red—his Alpha power rising. "That's enough, Lena. The hunting party is our tradition. It ensures strong bloodlines and alliances between packs. You will attend, and you will behave appropriately. This isn't up for discussion."

"But—"

"No." His voice dropped to a growl that made my wolf whimper inside me. "You are the daughter of an Alpha. You will represent this pack with dignity. Am I understood?"

I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. Even I knew better than to challenge him directly when he used that tone.

"Yes, sir," I muttered, staring at the floor.

"Good." He softened slightly, placing a heavy hand on my shoulder. "This is for the best, Lena. Trust me. A strong mate will protect you and care for you."

I wanted to scream that I could protect myself, that I didn't need some arrogant male to care for me. But I held my tongue. There was no point in arguing when his mind was made up.

"May I be excused?" I asked stiffly.

Mom nodded, her eyes full of sympathy that only made me angrier. She had accepted this system, embraced it even. Sometimes I wondered if she'd ever had dreams of her own before Dad marked her.

I fled to my room and flopped face-first onto my bed, screaming into my pillow. The worst part was that I knew exactly how the hunting party worked. The first night was a formal dinner where all the unmated werewolves from different packs would meet and socialize. The males would scope out the females they were interested in, forming alliances or rivalries based on who wanted whom.

The second day was the actual hunt—unmated females would be given a head start into the forest, supposedly to test their strength and cunning. Then the males would follow, tracking the females they wanted. When a male caught a female, he had the right to mark her by biting the junction between her neck and shoulder, creating a bond that could only be broken by death.

If the female accepted the marking, they would return to the gathering as a newly mated pair. If she rejected it... well, that's where things got ugly. A rejected male had the right to fight for his "chosen" female. Many girls accepted the mark just to avoid the violence.

After the hunt, the council of Elders would officially record the new matings, and the females would leave with their new mates to join their packs. Just like that, their old lives would be over.

I rolled onto my back and stared at my ceiling stars again. Two more days until my life could be completely upended by some stranger's teeth. Two days until I might be forced to leave my home, my friends, everything I knew.

I thought about running away, but where would I go? Lone wolves rarely survived in the human world, constantly looking over their shoulders for hunters or other packs. Besides, my father would track me down in hours. As Alpha, his connection to pack members—especially his blood relatives—was unbreakable.

My phone buzzed with a text from my best friend Zoey: 'Dress shopping tomorrow for the hunting party? My mom says we need to "look our best for potential mates." 🙄'

I texted back: 'Kill me now.'

Her response was immediate: 'If I do, who will suffer through this nightmare with me?'

I smiled despite myself. At least I wasn't alone in dreading this whole thing. I just wished there was a way out that didn't involve death or lifetime servitude to some arrogant male who thought he had the right to own me.

As the moon rose outside my window, I made myself a promise: No matter what happened at the hunting party, I wouldn't let anyone take away my choice. I would fight back, even if it meant breaking every werewolf tradition in existence.

I just hoped I'd live to tell about it.