DESTINED MATE

Chapter One:

The dream always started with the suffocating scent of wet pine, ozone, and a wave of heat so intense it made my skin prickle with frantic, electric energy.

“Time’s up, Layla,” a voice would rumble out of the absolute darkness. It wasn’t a human sound. It was a deep, gravelly vibration that shook the very core of my soul, heavy with an agonizing mixture of fierce desperation and raw authority. “The shadows are closing in on our borders. You must find me as fast as you can. Now... wake up.”

I snapped my eyes open, my breathing coming in shallow, ragged gasps.

I sat upright in the pitch-black quiet of my tiny basement bedroom, my hands trembling against the thin, frayed cotton sheets. I pressed a palm over my racing heart, trying to ground myself against the echo of that voice. Why did I keep having that same dream? Why did my mind invent a man covered in jagged, brutal scars—a man I didn’t even know, yet whose phantom presence made my chest ache with a terrifyingly familiar longing?

Fumbling in the dark, I tapped the screen of my cracked phone. 3:00 AM.

A heavy sigh slipped past my lips as the cold reality of my existence settled back onto my shoulders. There was no time to dissect stupid dreams. I was Layla Carter, the oldest daughter of the Moonveil Pack’s Alpha. To the outside world, being the firstborn of a powerful Alpha bloodline should have made me royalty. But in the cruel, Darwinian hierarchy of the werewolf world, I was nothing but a ghost. A genetic glitch.

Every morning before the sun even dared to peek over the eastern ridge, my routine was exactly the same. I didn’t train with the warriors, and I didn’t learn pack politics. Instead, I scrubbed the vast, echoing floors of the Alpha mansion until my knees bled. I prepared a massive breakfast for my father and sister, polished the silver, set the grand mahogany table, and fetched my father his morning newspaper.

Why did the daughter of an Alpha do the work of a low-ranking omega servant? Because I was eighteen years old today, and I was still completely wolfless. In a world where strength is everything, a she-wolf who cannot shift by her eighteenth year is considered a broken, useless mistake.

All of my father’s pride, attention, and love went directly to my beautiful, powerful twin sister, Hannah.

“Good morning, Dad,” I murmured quietly, stepping aside into the shadows as my father, Alpha Elliot, walked into the dining hall. Hannah trailed closely behind him, her hair perfectly styled, radiating the heavy, confident aura of a wolf who knew she owned the world.

“Happy birthday, my little princess!” my father beamed, completely ignoring my presence as he handed Hannah a beautifully wrapped, velvet box. She snapped it open to reveal a dazzling diamond-encrusted pack token.

“Thank you, Daddy! It’s absolutely perfect!” Hannah gloated, casting a smug, triumphant glance toward me.

I swallowed the bitter lump in my throat, my fingers tightening against the fabric of my stained apron. “It’s... it’s my birthday too, Father.”

The warmth instantly drained from my father’s face as he finally glanced at me. His eyes turned flat and cold, assessing my worn clothes with deep embarrassment. “Why are you still standing there dressed like a vagrant? Go change into something decent. Don’t you dare embarrass this family at Hannah’s birthday party tonight. Half the Northern Alliance will be here.”

“Yes, Father,” I whispered, lowering my eyes to the floor.

“And don’t forget to take your supplements before you get ready,” he added strictly, pointing a finger toward the dark amber bottle on the counter. “You look pale. You need to keep your strength up.”

A faint, bittersweet pang hit my chest. I nodded, grabbing the bottle. Even though he was ashamed of me, at least he still monitored my health and ensured I took my daily vitamins. Slipping the pill into my mouth, I swallowed it down, ignoring the bitter, metallic aftertaste that always coated the back of my throat.

Today was my eighteenth birthday. The rejection from my father stung, but I forced myself to think of Brandon. Brandon was the lead enforcer of our pack’s warrior vanguard strong, handsome, and fiercely ambitious. We had been secretly dating for a year, and he had promised me that the moment I turned eighteen, he would claim me completely, wolf or no wolf.

Tonight I thought, clutching my old sweater tighter around myself. Once Brandon claims me, the pack will finally stop looking at me like I’m trash. Maybe then, the dreams about that scarred stranger will finally leave me alone.