Vanc

the Packhouse. I stood before my mirror, clad in a simple white dress that felt more like a burial shroud than a festiva

hurricane. Her spiky black hair, streaked with rebellious purple, was a stark contrast to

nation. "You are not going to your own destiny looking like a fr

my self-appointed protector since we were pups. Before I could pr

l made my eyes look bigger and deeper, and a hint of color on my lips made me look less like a ghost. When she was done, I stared at the reflection in the

opeful werewolves making their way to the sacred site deep in the fo

actually here," a voice hissed from a

so ferocious they flinched back. "Idiots," she mutte

but my newfound confidence

walking with a group of his elite warriors, his future Betas and

mething-surprise? appreciation?-crossed his face before it was instantly replaced by a mask of c

loud enough for us to hear. "This whole ridiculous ceremony

nsed beside me, her protective instincts flaring. I could feel her wolf, a hot,

. Then, I did something

. My voice, when it came out, was quiet, but i

e Alpha. Whether you approve of it o

in, this time in genuine shock. His warriors stared at me, their mouths s

touched his lips. He didn't say another word. He simply stalked past me, his broa

eyes wide with glee. "Oh my Goddess! That wa

nd my legs feeling like jelly. But I didn't regret it. Tonight was about facing my fate,

g louder, pulling us toward the stage where my fina

whispered to myself, a praye