The day my father told me I was chosen, I cried.Not from fear. From relief.We had been struggling for three years quietly, the way families do when pride costs more than food. I knew about the debt. I wasn't supposed to, but walls in small houses don't keep secrets well, and my father's voice carried when he thought I was asleep. I had heard the number once and never said it out loud, like naming it would make it more real than it already was.So when he sat me down at the kitchen table that morning, hands folded, eyes not quite meeting mine, I thought the worst. I thought creditors. I thought we were losing the house.I did not think this."The Alpha's son," my father said, "has chosen you."I stared at him. "Chosen me for what?""As his bride, Hazel."The words didn't land immediately. They floated for a moment, searching for somewhere to settle."His..." I stopped. "Alpha Damien's son?""Alexander." My father nodded, and something moved across his face too quickly for me to catch
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