Chapter 1

Ariana

I stood in the center of the awakening circle, my palms slick with sweat as I reached inward for the third time. My wolf should be clawing to break free right now. Instead, there was nothing but the hollow echo of my racing heartbeat and two hundred pairs of eyes boring into my skin.

"Again," Alpha Darius commanded from his stone platform. "Focus harder, girl."

I closed my eyes and dug deeper into myself. Eighteen years I'd waited for this moment. Eighteen years of dreaming about my wolf's voice in my mind, her strength flooding my veins. My fingers trembled as I pressed them against my chest, begging for something, anything to stir beneath my ribs.

The void inside me yawned wider.

"She's broken," someone muttered. "Never seen an awakening take this long."

Beta Marcus circled me like a vulture. "Perhaps she's not actually pack-born." His lips curled into a smirk. "Perhaps her mother spread her legs for a human."

My eyes snapped open. "That's not true."

"Then show us your wolf," Marcus said, stepping close enough that I could smell the whiskey on his breath. "Unless you're too weak to shift."

I searched the crowd for my parents, desperate for someone to defend me. My mother stood at the edge of the circle, her face carved from ice. Our eyes met for one second before she looked away. My father stood beside her, his jaw clenched tight.

"I'm trying," I whispered. "I can feel her, she's just.."

"There's nothing to feel," Alpha Darius interrupted. "The moon sees all, and she has found you lacking." He rose from his seat. "No awakening means no wolf. No wolf means no place in this pack."

My knees buckled but I forced myself to stay standing.

"Give me time," I said. "Just a few more weeks, I know she's there…"

"Enough." My father's voice cracked across the circle. He stepped forward, his face twisted with disgust. "You are no daughter of mine."

The words hit me like a fist to the gut.

"The Blackwood name means something in this pack," he continued, addressing everyone but me. "We have alpha blood running through our veins. Warriors and leaders for five generations." He turned back to me. "You are not fit to carry it."

"Dad, please…"

"You're wolfless." He spat the word like a curse. "Whatever you are, you're not my child."

My mother said nothing. She simply turned and walked away, her heels clicking against stone. My father followed without looking back.

The crowd exploded into whispers and cruel laughter. I stood frozen in the center of it all, unable to process what had just happened.

When I finally walked home an hour later, I found my belongings scattered across the front lawn. Clothes, books, everything I owned thrown out like garbage. The locks had been changed. A note was taped to the door: "You're on your own."

I gathered what I could carry and walked away from the only home I'd ever known.

---

I slept in the park that night, my jacket pulled tight against the cold. When morning came, I knew I needed money. Food. A place to stay that wasn't a bench.

The convenience store on Fifth Street had a help wanted sign in the window. I pushed through the door, the bell chiming overhead. The owner, Mr. Chen, barely looked up from his newspaper.

"You here about the job?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Can you mop?"

"Yes."

"Can you show up on time?"

"Yes."

He pushed a set of keys across the counter. "Back room needs cleaning. Storage area's a disaster. Minimum wage, cash under the table. Start now."

I took the keys, relief washing over me. It wasn't much, but it was something.

The work was brutal. My muscles screamed as I scrubbed floors and hauled boxes. I didn't have the supernatural strength that came with a wolf. Everything took twice as long and hurt three times as much. Other shifters came in just to stare and whisper, reminding me of everything I'd lost.

But I kept my head down and worked. What other choice did I have?

A week passed in a blur of mop water and aching joints. I found a cheap room above a laundromat, barely big enough for a mattress. The smell of detergent seeped through the walls, but it was shelter. I told myself things would get better. I told myself I could survive this.

Then the dizziness started.

---

At first, I thought I was just tired. The exhaustion made sense. I was working twelve-hour shifts, eating one meal a day, sleeping on a lumpy mattress that made my back scream.

But the dizziness got worse. My bones started to ache. I'd get nosebleeds that wouldn't stop. Strange bruises appeared on my arms and legs, dark purple marks I didn't remember getting.

I was restocking shelves when it happened. One moment I was reaching for a box of cereal. The next, the floor was rushing up to meet my face.

The fluorescent lights were too bright when I opened my eyes. I was lying on the floor, dirty mop water soaking into my shirt. Mr. Chen's face swam above me, his mouth moving but the words sounded distant.

"Call an ambulance," someone said. "She's burning up."

The hospital smelled like antiseptic and fear. I sat on the examination table while Dr. Morrison reviewed my chart. She was human, which meant she didn't know I was supposed to be a shifter. Right now, I was grateful for that.

"Ariana," she said, setting down the clipboard. "Your test results came back."

The tone of her voice made my stomach drop.

"You have acute lymphoblastic leukemia." She spoke slowly, carefully. "It's aggressive. Without treatment, I'd estimate you have approximately three months."

Three months. The words echoed in my skull.

"If you were a shifter," Dr. Morrison continued, "your wolf could potentially heal you. The transformation has regenerative properties that attack cancer cells." She paused. "But since you're human, we need to start chemotherapy immediately."

"How much does that cost?" My voice sounded hollow.

"About fifteen thousand for the full course." She handed me a pamphlet. "There are payment plans, charity programs…"

Fifteen thousand dollars. I made eight dollars an hour mopping floors. Even if I worked every hour of every day, I'd die before I earned enough.

"I need you to understand the urgency," Dr. Morrison said. "Without treatment, the cancer will spread. You'll start feeling weaker, the symptoms will get worse. Eventually..." She trailed off.

Eventually, I would die.

I walked out of the hospital clutching the diagnosis papers, my mind numb. The sun was setting, painting the sky blood-red. Cars rushed past on the street, people hurrying home to their families, their lives, their futures.

I had three months and nowhere to go. No family. No pack. No money. No hope.

The universe had looked at me and decided I wasn't worth saving. First it took my wolf. Then my parents. Now it wanted my life.

I sat down on the curb outside the hospital, the concrete cold beneath me. A week ago, I'd been disowned. Now I was dying. The cruel irony wasn't lost on me. If I had my wolf, I would live. But because the moon rejected me, because I was wolfless and alone, I was going to die in three months.

Unless I found fifteen thousand dollars.

I laughed, a broken sound that turned into a sob. Where would someone like me find that kind of money? I couldn't even afford dinner.

The diagnosis papers crumpled in my fist as I stood up. I didn't know where I was going. I just knew I couldn't stay here, staring at that hospital, thinking about death.

I started walking, one foot in front of the other, as the sky darkened overhead. Somewhere in this c

ity, there had to be an answer. There had to be a way to survive this.

Because I wasn't ready to die. Not like this.