Hey, 381 (I Love You)

My heart shattered as my father hurled the last of my belongings out the door. My suitcase almost slammed into my leg with a heavy thud.

"Get out of my house, you fucking loser!" His voice thundered through the yard. "I won't have a shameless fool, almost nineteen, lounging around. All you do is waste my money on ridiculous dresses for mating balls, and you always come back empty-handed."

"Marion, that’s too much!" my mother cried. Her voice cracked, and her face turned red with embarrassment because my dad was at the front door. We lived in a close-knit community with little privacy where everyone knew everyone's business.

"She’s our only daughter! How can you throw her out, knowing the border is swarming with rogues? They could kill her!"

"Read my lips, I don't care!" 

His anger echoed down the street, loud enough for the neighbors to hear. Curious eyes peeked over the picket fence, drawn by the commotion. 

I remained still and fixed my gaze on the cobblestones beneath my feet. Silence was one way to offend my father. He always liked it when he threatened me, and I burst into tears. But this was another layer of humiliation in a lifetime of insults since I turned eighteen. Safe to say, I had gotten used to it. 

Being an omega was a curse in my pack, even though my pack wasn’t as cruel as others who killed omegas at birth. Still, life wasn’t easy, especially because both my parents had Beta blood. No one had any explanation as to why this occurred, and there were concrete DNA tests to prove that I was my parents' child. This made my father hate me.

Despite being at the top of my class and having a beautiful face, no one wanted me. I went ball after ball, hoping to find a partner and escape this misery. My mate didn't need to be an alpha or beta. He didn't even need to be rich. All I needed was someone kind and honest. 

My mother and grandmother argued at the top of their voices and yelled at my dad to stop embarrassing me. Some neighbors intervened, and one of my dad's friends scolded me for not begging for forgiveness. But I couldn’t—my dignity wouldn’t allow it.

"I have to go." My voice sounded hollow, too calm for the storm brewing around me. "The ball starts at six p.m. This is my last chance."

They let me pass, though my father’s shouts followed me down the road. "Don't come back if you fail again!"

Age nineteen was the threshold, where a woman was practically considered old and stale if she hadn’t found a mate. Most couples met at 18—it was standard. I was just a month shy of 19, and this ball was my final shot.

I quickened my pace, burying the fear that threatened to rise. If I didn’t find a mate tonight, I’d be sent to the Sisters’ Sanctuary, a prison for unmated female omegas. There, we lived a life without sex, cut off from the world so the males wouldn’t be tempted to breed with us, preventing more unwanted omega children.

“Please,” I whispered to the goddess as I reached the highway. “Just give me someone. I don’t care if he’s old and ugly; just let him be kind.”

The sky darkened, and the air grew thick with the scent of oncoming rain. I hadn’t even waited for my brother to drive me to the center because my father’s outburst blindsided me. Now I was alone on a dangerous path, and fear crept into the edges of my mind.

Still, I kept running. Music pumped through my headphones desperately to drown out the rising panic. Luck, for once, was on my side, and I made it to the community center safely. I wasn’t dressed for the occasion—a short, ugly orange dress clung awkwardly to my frame. But at least my hair looked decent. My dark blonde locks, streaked with a natural brown tint, made my blue eyes pop in a way that usually turned heads.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the hall which had been transformed into a ballroom with twinkling lights, flowers, and soft music. Laughter filled the air, mingling with the scent of meat and cologne. My eyes scanned the crowd, searching for Morgana, my best friend.

Morgana stood at the room's far end, stunning in a pearl-adorned white dress. She was the Alpha’s daughter and had found her mate months ago, though her story wasn’t exactly a fairy tale. Her mate was ten years older, the biology assistant teacher at our school, and he had rejected their bond. Morgana had cried for weeks, and though I felt terrible for her, it was a cold comfort to know I wasn’t the only one suffering.

I was about to join her when something hit me. I couldn't explain it, but it was an intoxicating scent, like pine mixed with earth after a storm. My wolf stirred with a loop of excitement that rippled through my veins, and my heart banged hard.

My mate was here!

“Adora, over here!” Morgana waved, thinking I was eager to see her, but I barely registered her voice. My wolf was restless, urging me to follow that scent.

I rushed through the crowd, tracing the source of the scent. 

“Shit, Adora. You look flushed,” Morgana said as she caught up and grabbed my hand. “And why are you dressed so casually? Are you alright?”

"I’ll explain later,” I breathed. "I think my mate is here."

Morgana’s eyes widened in excitement, but I barely noticed. The scent was stronger now, pulling me toward it like a magnet.

Then I saw him.

He stood across the room. His arms were around another girl, and their lips locked in a passionate kiss.

Fuck me.

The excitement that had been building inside me evaporated, replaced by a crushing sadness. My mate was already in love and locked in someone else’s embrace.

Morgana stiffened beside me, "Don’t tell me he’s your mate."

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I stepped closer, eyes fixed on him as if closing the distance would change the horrible truth.

Then, he turned. His eyes widened like egg whites as they locked on mine. For a long moment, he stood frozen, taking me in. Like most werewolves, he was tall with rich brunette hair and dressed in designer clothes that screamed wealth. His girlfriend clung to his side; I couldn't tell if she noticed.

“No,” he muttered, shaking his head. "It can’t be."

His rejection was immediate, and his gaze grew cold, filled with utter disgust, like I was a disease he wanted to escape.

Unable to bear it. I turned and fled, the pain slicing through me like a knife.