CHAPTER TWO - The Girl I Used to Be

*Ten years ago...*

I was sixteen the first time I saw Skyler Voss, and I knew—I just *knew*—that my life would never be the same.

He rode into the pack compound on a motorcycle that growled like a living thing, all dark leather and dangerous energy. My brother Ronan was at his side, the two of them laughing about something as they dismounted, and I watched from my bedroom window like the pathetic teenager I was.

"Who is *that*?" I breathed.

My wolf, barely awakened after my first shift three months prior, stirred with sudden interest. She pressed against my consciousness, curious and alert in a way she'd never been before.

*Mine*, she whispered.

I was too young to understand what that meant. Too naive to recognize the early stirrings of a bond that wouldn't fully manifest for another five years. All I knew was that Skyler Voss was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen, and I wanted him to look at me—really look at me—more than I'd ever wanted anything.

He didn't, of course.

I was Ronan's kid sister. A scrawny, mousy-haired girl with paint-stained fingers and a tendency to trip over my own feet. Skyler ruffled my hair when Ronan introduced us, called me "little bit," and promptly forgot I existed.

But I didn't forget him.

Over the next five years, I became an expert in Skyler Voss. I knew his schedule, his habits, the way he took his coffee (black, no sugar, like his soul, I used to joke to myself). I knew which smile was real and which was for show. I knew the sound of his laugh, low and rough, and the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when something genuinely amused him.

I filled sketchbooks with his face. Dozens of them, hidden under my bed like contraband. Skyler in profile. Skyler on his motorcycle. Skyler shirtless after a training session, all rippling muscle and gleaming sweat.

God, I was pathetic.

But I couldn't help it. My wolf was convinced he was ours, and she grew more insistent with every passing year. *Mate*, she would whisper when he walked into a room. *Ours. Claim him.*

I told her to shut up. Skyler didn't see me that way. Skyler didn't see me at all.

He was the pack's rising star—the youngest wolf ever appointed as an enforcer, destined to lead them someday. He was three years older, impossibly cool, and so far out of my league we weren't even playing the same sport.

I watched him date other women. Tall, confident she-wolves who commanded attention when they walked into a room. Nothing like me, with my quiet voice and my tendency to fade into corners.

It hurt. God, it hurt. But I told myself it was just a crush. A silly, teenage infatuation I would outgrow.

I was wrong.

The feelings didn't fade. They deepened, intensified, became something I couldn't name or control. By twenty, I was so in love with Skyler Voss that I could barely breathe when he was in the same room.

And he still called me "little bit."

He still ruffled my hair.

He still looked right through me like I was made of glass.

My twenty-first birthday approached, and with it, the pack's traditional celebration. Every wolf who came of age received a ceremony under the full moon—a recognition of their place in the pack, their transition to full adulthood.

I didn't care about any of that. I only cared that Skyler would be there.

Maybe, I told myself, this would be the night. Maybe he would finally see me as a woman instead of a child. Maybe the moon would work its magic and he would look at me—really look—and everything would change.

I spent hours getting ready. I bought a new dress, deep green velvet that made my hazel eyes look almost golden. I let my mother fuss with my hair until it fell in soft waves around my shoulders. I even wore makeup, something I rarely bothered with.

When I walked into the pack hall, I felt beautiful for the first time in my life.

And then I saw him.

Skyler stood by the bar, a beer in hand, laughing at something Ronan said. He wore all black—black jeans, black t-shirt stretched across his broad chest, black leather jacket slung over one shoulder. His dark hair was slightly mussed, like he'd been running his hands through it.

He was perfect. He was everything.

My wolf surged forward with sudden, overwhelming force.

*MATE.*

The word exploded through my consciousness like a bomb. I gasped, stumbling, catching myself on a nearby table. The world tilted, colors too bright, sounds too loud, and through it all, a golden thread unfurling from my chest and stretching across the room toward him.

The bond. The mate bond. It was real.

Skyler went rigid. His beer slipped from his fingers and shattered on the floor. His head snapped toward me, those steel-gray eyes finding mine across the crowded room, and I saw it—I *saw* the moment he felt it too.

I smiled. I couldn't help it. Joy bubbled up from somewhere deep inside me, spilling across my face in a grin so wide it hurt.

*He's mine. He's really mine. After all this time—*

Skyler's expression twisted.

Not into joy. Not into recognition or relief or any of the things I'd dreamed of seeing.

Into horror.

Pure, undisguised horror.