THE REJECTED ALPHA'S MATE 1| Intense Werewolf Paranormal Shifter Romance Audiobook

Prologue. Logan POV. He's here. One of my packmates shouts as I head downstairs. There's a murmur of voices. And then Jasper, my best friend and beta, starts singing, "Happy birthday." The rest of my pack joins in. And when I reach the landing, I lean against the railing and grin. "Happy birthday, dear Logan. Happy birthday to you."

Everyone finishes singing and begins to applaud, whistle, and cheer. The guys surround me, patting me on the back and wishing me all the best while the girls hang back waiting. I, Logan Patton, son of Alfa James Patton, have just turned 17. Today, as other males in our pack have done for generations, I finally get to find my mate. It's something I've been looking forward to for months. I've seen it happen to so many other wolves over the years. Watch their faces light up with joy when they spotted her and saw how much happier they were afterwards. Who wouldn't want that? Plus, having a mate is awesome. My mate won't get on my nerves like some girls do, or only ever talk about shopping, which I can't stand. She won't do other annoying stuff either, like constantly checking her makeup or eating a salad instead of real food the way some of my exes have. Like, what's up with that? Especially with wolf girls. Sex with my mate is going to be so much hotter than it's been with other girls. And my mate won't be jealous or controlling like a few girls I've dated and quickly dumped either. No, she'll be perfect. That is precisely what I want in a girl. That's what a mate is. And now I finally get to find mine.

A hush falls over the room as everyone waits in anticipation. I think almost every girl here hopes she's my mate. At least that's what everyone's been saying for weeks. Not to brag or anything, but I'm one of the most popular guys at school. Plus, I'm the next alpha, which means my mate will one day be Luna and co-leader of our pack. It's a huge honor that few wolves can claim. To find my mate, I had to make eye contact with every girl in the room until I finally reached her. That's how it's always been done. So, everyone knows to stand quietly and wait. Even the little kids who are here with their parents for the celebration are all on their best behavior. I close my eyes briefly, savoring the moment. I inhale slowly, catching a hint of perfume, some deodorant, and a whiff of bao that makes me think of the boy's locker room. There's some shuffling off to my left and the sound of nails against my skin as someone scratches an itch in the front row. Otherwise, the foyer is wholly and utterly silent, and the crowd breathes almost as one. I let the anticipation build and then opened my eyes and looked around.

First, I searched for Jessica, the girl I hoped would be my mate. Jess is hot with a sexy body and long blonde hair. She's a cheerleader, but not one of those mean girls. She's sweet, and everyone at school loves her. She isn't perfect or anything, but if she were my mate, I would stop noticing her flaws. That's just how finding a mate works. Jess and I've been dating for nearly a year. And we've had a lot of fun together, at least we did, until 2 weeks ago when we decided to break up. With my birthday approaching, spending time together was becoming increasingly awkward. When we last spoke, I told her I hoped she'd end up being my mate, and she felt the same way. It's not like we're in love or anything, but wolves don't feel love until we find our mates. We mostly fall around and have fun dating and experimenting. I look over the crowd and spot Jess in the front row. My breath catches and my heart pounds as I meet her wide-eyed stare. I wait, but the world doesn't shift on its axis, and I don't fall in love at first sight. For a split second, neither of us moves. Then her face crumples and I quickly look away. I feel terrible that Jess won't get to be Luna, but if the moon goddess didn't choose her for me, there's nothing I can do. Jess and I just weren't meant to be. At least we already broke up and got all the awkward stuff out of the way.

Now that I've crossed Jess off my potential mates list, I'm suddenly filled with excitement and anticipation. The moon goddess must have an even better match for me. As the future alpha, there are dozens of girls here whom I haven't met. Wolves from neighboring packs who'd come in the hopes of becoming the next Luna. They're all gathered at the back of the room, and I make eye contact with each of them one by one. I stare into the eyes of all shapes and sizes, large and small, narrow and wide. Eyes as blue as the ocean or as brown as chocolate fudge. I even pause at one girl with mismatched eyes, one brown and one blue. Surprised by the unusual sight. When someone in the room gasps, thinking I'd found my mate, I quickly move on. I gaze into eyes outlined by so much makeup it's scary. Eyes shaded by thick lashes or lids coated with purple glitter. Then eyes so plain I forget them. The second I move on, when I reach the last few, I stifle my disappointment and remind myself that there are tons of potential mates in the room. Friends, past girlfriends, girls I've barely spoken to, girls in different grades than me, and even girls far too young or too old for me. I look at each face into each girl's eyes, but every time I do, I feel nothing. I keep searching until I'm sure I've made eye contact with every girl in the room. Twice. What the hell?

Hundreds of faces stare at me as I finally give up and look for my father, the pack alpha. He's at the back of the room with his arm around my mother, our Luna. To an outsider, he might look unconcerned, but as his son, I spot the stiffness in his stance. His shoulders tense imperceptibly and he tightens his arm around mother. Then he raises an eyebrow, his face impassive as he awaits my response. I shake my head. No one here is my mate. A collective gasp fills the room and everyone starts talking at once. No one ever considered that something like this could happen to me, the future alpha. My parents found out they were mates right here on this very staircase, as did my grandparents and their parents before them. Of course, there have been guys in our pack who didn't, but they always left, traveling for weeks or even years until they finally found their mates. Most unmated girls eventually left as well, driven to find their other half. While many did, others spent their entire lives alone. Most of them were fine, happy even, but a few of them went rogue. Things are different for me since I'm an alpha. I must stay with my pack and gradually take over for my father. If I leave, I will be neglecting my responsibilities and abandoning my people. If I remain, my pack will be left without a lunar, and I will be forced to live without a mate. Plus, somewhere out there, my mate, they'd be alone and suffering, too. I look around and see the shock on everyone's faces as they too realize the consequences. My beta Jasper looks really upset. The grown-ups are shaking their heads and giving me pitying looks. My friends and classmates are whispering among themselves. My wolf howls. Suddenly, I want to get as far away from my pack as I can. I need to shift to run to escape. I almost reach the front door when my father grabs my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks. "We'll find her, son," he promises, he tells me reassuringly and turns to face the crowd. "Logan is my son and your future alpha," he announces, his booming voice echoing in the large foyer. "His mate will be your Luna. You will look up to her, respect her, and admire her. This pack deserves the best, and that is why we must wait. I am confident that Logan's mate is out there. An alpha's daughter perhaps or a beta's since Tom here has only sons." Father nods at his second, Jasper's father, before continuing. "Whoever Logan's mate is will find her and I'm certain that she will be well worth the wait."

Chapter one. Saffron. I sit on my bed cross-legged and listen to the shouts coming from downstairs. One of the voices is Dad's and the other belongs to a man I don't recognize. I catch a whiff of his scent and it tells me two things. Stranger and werewolf. I can easily listen in on their conversation from up here. Then again, they're so loud I'm sure even a human would hear them from the next town over. "If I don't have my money by the time I count to five, I'm going to tear your throat out," the stranger yells. A better daughter might run downstairs to save her father, but I don't budge from my spot on the bed. I'm not paralyzed by fear or anything like that. Okay, maybe a little. Mostly, I just keep reminding myself that I shouldn't care. Dad and I aren't close, and he doesn't give a damn about me. I bet if our roles were reversed, he wouldn't bother saving me. It's only fair that I return the favor. He can get out of this mess on his own.

Just as my mind's made up, Dad starts shouting from downstairs. He's had years of practice, so his baritone is loud enough to make the walls shake. "Sophie, get down here this minute!" I'm so used to Dad's yelling that it doesn't bother me anymore. Plus, like I said, I don't want to get mixed up in his mess. Still, I jump off my bed and rush downstairs. I plan to stay out of the way if possible, but I am aware that if I take too long to obey an order, there will be consequences. If Dad somehow manages to get out of this mess alive, that is. I become increasingly worried with each step. We don't have whatever money Dad owes. We're so short on cash that even with my part-time job, the last time I checked the money jar, it only had 25s and a handful of coins. The 25s paid for cigarettes and beer. And if we didn't hunt, we'd likely starve. Anyway, the fact that we have a money jar and not a bank account like normal people pretty much sums things up. So, why is Dad calling me? Does he plan to blame me and say I stole the money? Knowing Dad, it's possible. And it makes me worry even more. He could also be stalling, but is that reason enough to bring his only daughter within striking distance of a pissed-off wolf? It's not that I expect Dad to be concerned about my well-being, but still, shouldn't he care about continuing the bloodline?

I enter the living room and stop hesitantly in the doorway. I'm not sure it's safe to approach, and there's a slight chance, fingers crossed, that Dad wants me to fetch something, like that money we don't have. So, I'm saving time by standing near the door as if I peer into the living room and my eyes settle on one of the largest werewolves I've ever seen. He's in human form and towers almost a foot over my Dad. Although he's about Dad's age, he's in much better shape, lean, strong, and muscular. And I'm pretty sure he doesn't have an ounce of fat beneath his jeans and black leather jacket. His jet black hair needs a cut, and he looks like he hasn't shaved in days. His eyes are narrowed and his upper lip is curled back in a snarl. My overall impression is that he's big, wild, and dangerous. Not the sort of wolf Dad should be messing with. "Come here, Sophie," Dad orders when he spots me. Unlike his rival, Dad doesn't look like much. He's of average height and above average weight. All that weight is gathered in his stomach, allowing him to pass for 9 months pregnant. Okay, fine. Maybe more like seven. I guess all the beer drinking and late night eating have taken a toll. Dad's balding on top and his teeth are yellowed from years of smoking and avoiding the dentist. As usual, he's wearing khaki shorts belted below his belly and a stained white t-shirt. I carefully walk up to Dad. When I stop next to him, he puts his arm around me for like the first time. I really can't remember him ever showing me any affection, at least not since Mom died. As he pulls me close, I smell cigarettes and beer, and his stench makes me shudder in disgust. Then I catch a whiff of hope laced with worry, which tells me that Dad's definitely up to something. What's his plan? Be all like, "Please don't hurt me. My little girl needs me." I mentally roll my eyes at the thought. It's the only explanation I have for why Dad is suddenly acting all dadlike. "This is my daughter," Dad introduces me to the pissed-off wolf who emits a growl in response. It could be his way of saying, "Nice to meet you." But I doubt it. He doesn't bother introducing himself, so I settle on pissed-off wolf or just poo for short. The nickname is silly. Pobu Pobu, like in a comic book, and it makes me feel a little better, like I can think whatever I want and no one can stop me. "Saffron," Dad adds with a smirk. Saffron is my legal name, though I haven't heard anyone use it in years. When I first started school, a few kids shortened my name to Safy. Others just assumed it was Safi, and I never corrected them. Eventually, it's what everyone was calling me, even Dad, which makes me wonder why he is using my full name now. "I can guarantee that she's worth her weight in gold," Dad adds. I guess that explains it. Saffron is a costly spice that was once as valuable as gold measured by weight. Like if you wanted to buy a pound of saffron, it would cost you a pound of gold. That sort of thing. Pretty cool, huh? Mom was the one who picked out my name. I still remember how she'd call me her little treasure. Of course, Dad has to go and ruin that memory by constantly telling me that if Mom could see me now, she'd regret calling me Saffron since I'll never amount to much. I still like the name though, even if no one uses it anymore. It's the only reminder I have left of my Mom, and I should care why. P growls, bringing me back to the present. His jaw is tense, a vein in his forehead is throbbing, and his hands are clenched into fists. He does not look happy. I start to worry that he's about to take his anger out on me. Not just Dad, so I assume an exaggerated submissive wolf pose. It's a self-defense move. Dad taught me that makes me look non-threatening. It's supposed to trigger wolf's protective nature, dampening their urge to attack. I've practiced it on Dad and succeeded enough times to be an expert. I hunch my back slightly, making sure not to make eye contact and emitting a whimper. P's expression softens briefly, but for him it's just a dominant wolf instinct that he efficiently suppresses because all the anger is back moments later. "Explain yourself, though," P demands. I have to wonder, too. Why would Dad suddenly start praising me when he always says he hasn't a clue why Mom named me Saffron, that he got cheated, and that he'd take the gold any day?

Chapter 2. Saffron POV. "Sophie's very obedient. That's what we call her," Sophie, Dad tells the pissed-off wolf. "Does what you tell her to. Never disobeys." He ruffles my hair. The action more rough than affectionate. "Her wolf is fully submissive. An omega if ever there was one." He pulls me into his side. Even though I'm no omega, and Dad knows it, I keep my mouth shut. Now is really not the time to stand up for myself. "Sophie can cook, clean, hunt, and she got a good head on her shoulders," Dad continues. "Worth her weight in gold. This one usually earned a useless screw up." So you can't blame me for being shocked that Dad is suddenly singing a different tune. "She's worth much more than 10 grand, so you're actually getting yourself a real bargain," Dad adds, and my eyes widen. $10,000? How in the hell did he manage to get himself into that kind of debt? I look between Dad and Po Dab and some of what's happening starts to make sense. Dad got himself into a mess and now he wants me to clean it up. He mentioned cooking, cleaning, and hunting. And it's not like he ever does any of those himself. 10 grand though. How long would I have to work for Pabu to settle that kind of debt? Months? Years? I'm pretty good at math, so I try to work it all out in my head. I get paid minimum wage at the diner and I doubt P would pay me any more than that. So, I'd have to work around 1,000 hours and if I put in 20 hours a week, that would be crap. I have no idea. I can't count on the spot like this. Not with P growling at me and ready to strike. All I know is that it will take a considerable amount of time. A whole year, maybe longer. I mean, $10,000 plus, what would happen to my job at the diner? I can't do both. Will Dad make me quit school? Is he allowed to do that? "What would you want her for?" P asks, raising an eyebrow. "Housekeeper, slave, she doesn't care," Dad responds, "she'll do whatever you tell her to. She's a hard worker, so she'll earn her keep and then some." P says nothing. And Dad sighs. "Look, I could probably sell her for much more than that if I went looking for a buyer." I gasp as the shock of what Dad is saying begins to sink in. He doesn't want me to work for P. He wants to sell me to P. Sell me like I'm a piece of property. Is that even legal? Maybe this is all just a bad dream. Any second now, I'll snap out of it and realize I fell asleep doing homework. I pinch my hand, desperate to wake up. But the nightmare only keeps getting worse. "Just give me a couple of days and I'll get you your money," Dad laughs. "How hard is it to sell a teenage girl? She's a virgin, too, you know. Or I think she is." Dad gives me a questioning look, but I stand there horrified. This can't be happening. "If I take her," P growls, "you will have no say in what I do with her. You will never see your daughter again. You'll never speak to her, write to her or have any contact with her. Is that understood?" P takes a step toward us and Dad tightens his hold around my shoulder. Of course, he nods, the scent of triumph replacing the hope and worry that I smelled on him earlier. "She's all yours." "Very well," P growls. "I will forgive your debt." "I knew you'd see things my way," Dad smirks and I shudder. I know Dad doesn't like me, but he's still my Dad. I never imagined he would do something so despicable. I thought that if I could stand him until I finished high school, I'd get out of here, away from this run-down house and this awful small town. If I'd known Dad was going to sell me and make me someone's slave, I would have run away years ago. Suddenly, I want to get as far away from this nightmare as possible. I need to shift, to escape, to run and never stop. I try to pull away from Dad, but he's holding on to me with an iron grip. I fight against him and almost break free, but P grabs my other shoulder. His grip isn't painful, but it's strong, and he has no trouble holding me in place. "Saffron," P spits out. And I hate the way he makes the beautiful name my Mom gave me sound. "If you try to run, I will track you down, and it won't be pretty for you or your father." P growls and I freeze, his menacing glare making me tremble. "You will go upstairs and pack your things," A orders and lets go of me. That does, too. And it takes everything I have to force myself not to make a run for it. "If you try to leave, I will hear you. If you try to escape, I will punish you. Do you understand?" I don't respond. It's all too much. Dad just sold me to a violent, scary, pissed-off wolf. I can only hope that I'm going to be a housekeeper and not something disgusting like a sex slave. He may not be bad looking for an old guy, but still gross. I can't handle this. I just can't. I start to shake my head, but then P shouts the order. "Do what you're told. Now!" His voice is laced with authority and instinct propels me up the stairs to my bedroom. I pick up my duffel bag on autopilot and begin to pack up my stuff before I have time to process what's happening. Dads told me that alphas and sometimes betas can have this sort of power over wolves that it can be hard or even impossible to disobey them. I just never believed him because it sounded so far-fetched. I figured he was exaggerating or maybe just making the whole thing up to mess with me. I still practice the techniques he taught me to help resist an alpha's order. But if I'd known this was for real, I would have taken the training a lot more seriously. I take deep breaths and clear my mind the way Dad taught me. And the effect of P's order starts to dissipate. Suddenly, I have an overwhelming urge to climb out the window and run. I'm fast, both in wolf and human form. After all the practice I've had running from Dad, the man may be in horrible shape, but his wolf is lean and strong. It's weird how that works, but we have to exercise in both forms if we want to stay in shape. Still, Dad and I are rogues, so we're much weaker than other wolves. That's why no pack has ever wanted us. Even if I can outrun Dad, I'm probably a snail compared to P. Plus, he's expecting me to run, so he's ready to give chase. Once he catches me, he might kill me on the spot, beat the crap out of me, torture me, or worse, like he warned me, it won't be pretty. If I'm going to escape, I need to bide my time. If I act weak and obedient, P will lower his guard. Then, when the time is right, I will make a run for it. I hope it won't be too late.

Chapter 3. Saffron Povi. I pick up my duffel bag and take one last look around my bedroom. The single bed with its stained but freshly washed sheets. The beatup wooden desk and matching chair that got me through years of homework. The now empty dresser which barely had any clothes in it to begin with. I don't have many good memories of this place, at least not any recent ones, but it's still home and it sure beats whatever hell's waiting for me next. "Saffrim!" P bellows from the living room. My hands clench into fists at his use of the name Mom gave me, and I struggle against the urge to run, or worse yet, fight. If I do either, I know I'll regret it. Peo's footsteps thunder up the stairs, and my heart starts to race. It only took me a couple of minutes to pack, but I've still managed to piss him off. It's a good thing I don't own more stuff. I head to the door and my eyes instinctively drift to the empty spot above my bed. Mom's painting used to hang there for as long as I can remember. It's of a beautiful saffron flower, the one the spice comes from, and I look at it whenever I feel sad or afraid. I know it's silly, but it makes me feel like Mom's with me. I'm glad it's small enough to fit in my duffel bag because I honestly don't think I could leave without it. I step out into the hall and P is already on the second floor landing, leaning against the railing and glaring at me. He sure moves fast, even for a wolf. "Sorry, sir," I say, my voice trembling. I don't even have to pretend to be the submissive, obedient wolf Dad made me out to be. I'm so freaked out over everything that's just happened that I think I'm going to be sick. "Let's go," P gestures toward the stairs. "Toothbrush," I mumble, taking a step toward the bathroom. "Puts a frustrated growl, and I freeze in my tracks." "What am I doing?" The pushover omega that P expects, the one who does anything she's told, the one too scared to ever run away, would never do this. She'd have been too overwhelmed by fear to think of things she forgot to pack, like her toothbrush. I just disobeyed a 7-ft tall wolf because I forgot to pack a freaking toothbrush. What's wrong with me? Good dental hygiene is not worth dying for. I stand halfway between P and the bathroom and begin to tremble. I'm never going to pull this off. P is probably going to put guards on me and chain me up in the dungeon. I'll never escape, never see the light of day, never finish high school or go to college, never fall in love, never get married, never have kids. I'll starve to death in a cold, dank basement or bleed out from beatings and torture. I should just let P kill me now and get it over with. "Go," B orders in a voice that sounds deceptively gentle. "Just make it fast." He doesn't growl or yell, the only ways I thought he knew how to communicate and his words are barely above a whisper. His tone sounds soothing, but it's also laced with authority. And my feet take me inside the bathroom before I even have time to think about it. I grab my toothbrush and the toothpaste, floss, and mouthwash since I doubt Dad ever uses them and shove everything into my bag. Given Dad's rotting teeth, genetics are stacked against me. So, I need to keep up with my brush, floss, disinfect routine if I want to stay cavity-free. "Come," P orders, and I follow him downstairs on autopilot, wondering how I can even think about dental hygiene at a time like this. Po stops abruptly when he reaches the living room, and I jump back to avoid crashing into him. He growls, and I peek around him and gape. Dad is sitting on the couch, a beer in one hand and the remote in the other. He's acting like he doesn't have a care in the world, switching channels until he finally settles on the game. He looks up from the TV when he finally notices us and raises a questioning eyebrow. He and I briefly make eye contact, but there isn't a shred of guilt on his face. I may be his only child. He couldn't care less about me. Po growls and walks over to the couch, towering over Dad. Suddenly, his right arm shoots out and he wraps his hand around Dad's neck, lifting him as if he weighs nothing. Dad's jaw drops, his eyes widen, and he begins to choke. Shouts and cheers echo from the TV, mocking him. He pulls at P's arm with both hands, feet kicking out as he tries to break free. But no matter how hard he tries, P's grip doesn't waver. "If I ever catch you playing poker again or any card game, I will kill you. Are we clear?" P demands holding Dad up at eye level. Poker. I guess that explains how Dad came to owe so much money, although why he'd bet money he'd never be able to pay back escapes me. Dad tries to nod, and when that doesn't work, he manages to get out a strangled yes. He looks so small and helpless, feet dangling high above the ground, arms trying and failing to loosen P's grip. On TV, the announcer drones on as Dad starts to turn blue. I can tell his arms are weakening, and when his eyes begin to close, I let out an involuntary gasp. My Dad is about to die right in front of me, and I'm not doing anything to stop it. What sort of person does that make me? Without warning, P lets go, and Dad comes crashing down onto the brown leather. There are bruises around his neck, but he's still breathing, so he'll live. Because of our superior healing ability, I know the damage will be gone in minutes, and Dad will be as good as new, while I'll still be P's slave. "Come," P orders marching past me. I take one last look at Dad, silently, begging him to change his mind to save me, but he's too busy rubbing his neck to pay me any attention. I look away, hold back tears, and follow P out of the house. There's a dark blue pickup truck parked in the driveway. P opens the passenger side door, lifts me, and tosses me onto the seat as if I were his gym bag. Just another possession bought and paid for. P slams the door shut and I don't move a muscle. I follow him with my eyes as he rounds the truck and climbs in. "Seat belt," P growls and buckles up. I quickly do as he says and he starts the engine. Then he hits the gas and the truck tires screech as we race out of the driveway. I hold onto my seat belt with one hand and cradle my bag with the other. As the truck speeds up, I turn to stare out the window, watching the only home I've ever known disappear from view.

Chapter 4. Saffron POV. I stare out the window and wonder where my life went so wrong. An hour ago, I was happy. Well, maybe not happy exactly, but safe. Okay, not secure either. Content, maybe. I don't know. At least I wasn't someone's slave, unless you count Dad's. But at least I always knew what to expect. I have no clue what P plans to do with me. And honestly, it's better not to think about it. If living with Dad has taught me anything, it's that to survive, you can't dwell on the inevitable. Po races through town, and I only have a few seconds to glance at my school, the library, and the diner for what may be the last time. I wonder what will happen when I don't show up to school tomorrow, or when I miss my shift at the diner, but then push those thoughts aside. Nothing I can do about that now. Instead, I silently say goodbye to my favorite places. And Anna and Jen, my human friends. I have no wolf friends to miss since Dad and I are rogues and others of our kind don't want anything to do with us except to buy me as a slave, I guess. The truck flies out of town and almost topples on its side as P takes a sharp turn and exits onto the highway. I grip my bag and the seat belt digs into my shoulder, keeping me in place until the truck steadies. I'm not too worried about P crashing the car. And given his driving, I'd say he's thinking along the same lines. It'd take much more than a simple accident to kill one of our kind. I also doubt P would care if he totaled the truck or got a ticket. He did buy me for $10,000, so I'm guessing he has money to spare. a fact I try very hard not to dwell on as the car flies down the highway. I steal a glance at the driver's seat and it's a scary sight. He grips the wheel so hard that his knuckles turn white and his eyes narrow as he glares at the road ahead. I quickly turn away and decide it's safer to look out the window at the passing scenery instead. As we get further and further away from town, I start to get more and more nervous. I didn't realize P planned to take me so far away from home. I guess I just assumed that when I escaped, I'd be somewhere familiar. Instead, we've been driving for ages now, and P isn't slowing down any. I hold on to my bag, hugging it tight for comfort. It contains all of my possessions. The toothbrush, floss, and toothpaste that I risked my life for. My health card, a picture of my Mom, and Mom's painting wrapped in some clothes. Torn jeans, gym shorts, a few t-shirts, a sweater, some socks, underwear, and a bra. Except for the sweats and baggy shirt that I'm wearing. Those are all the clothes I own. I also packed a binder, two pens, and my history book. They were already in my bag since I have a history paper due tomorrow, and they did a great job cushioning the painting. I used to carry my school stuff in a backpack like everyone else, but it's worn beyond repair, so I've had to switch to Dad's old duffel based on how often he goes to the gym. Hint, never. It's not like he'd ever miss it. The rest of my school stuff is in my locker, and I realize I probably won't ever see it again. I probably shouldn't have bothered to take my history book, either. And I guess I can forget about finishing the rest of the paper, too. Once I escape, I'll go to a different school somewhere far away where P and Dad can't find me. "Saffron." I startle at the sound of P's voice and turn to look at him. He hasn't spoken a word since we got on the road, which according to the dashboard clock was over an hour ago. I expected him to stay silent for the remainder of the trip. "Guess not, sir?" My voice trembles partially from fear and partially because I need P to believe that I'm weak and helpless. So weak and defenseless that I would never ever try to run away. Palu lets out an irritated growl and I tense up, hold my bag tighter, and wait. I wonder how quickly I can undo my seat belt, open the passenger side door, and jump out of the truck. The fall wouldn't kill me, but I'd probably break something, which is a bad idea since I doubt I can heal fast enough to shift and get away. Plus, my bag would slow me down, and I can't bear to leave Mom's painting behind. I take a deep breath and remind myself that being impulsive would only get me killed. I need to wait for the perfect opportunity before I make a move. One failed attempt, and I may never get another. Dad taught me how not to act on impulse by controlling my emotions, and I now focus on doing that. I push back the urge to run first, then relax my body as I take deep cleansing breaths. I start at my toes and work my way up limb by limb until I slowly feel the tension ebb away. "Your father," P interrupts my meditation. "Plays poker with humans. Humans whose emotions he can smell. He can smell when they're lying, when they're bluffing. He knows when to play and when to fold." P growls. "He doesn't play with rich folk either. No, he convinces poor humans to gamble away everything they own so they can't support their families or feed their children." A loyal daughter would probably accuse P of lying and defend her Dad, but I honestly can't say I'm surprised. Dad can't hold down a job, but he still brings the occasional $10 or $20 bill into the house. There are bills to pay, household supplies to buy, and obviously Dad's cigarettes and booze. He smokes a pack a day and drinks half a dozen beers, which add up, plus Dad's often gone nights or the occasional weekend. I guess this explains where he's been going. "I'm sorry," I whisper, because even though I expected that Dad would be up to no good, I still hate being right. "You were a part of it," P yells, looking away from the road to glare at me.

Chapter 5. Suffer P. "No, no, of course I didn't have anything to do with it. I didn't even know," I cry, shaking my head emphatically. "I would never cheat people or gamble or anything. I'm 16." "I see," P replies, his voice devoid of emotion, and turns back to watch the road. I know there's no point in arguing. Years of experience have taught me that it's best to stay quiet, take the blame, and apologize, no matter how absurd the accusation. If I try to stand up for myself, it'll just make him angrier, more pissed off. He'll lash out with a slap that flings me across the room, if I'm lucky, or beat me until he hears the cracking of bone. He'll expect me to fight back, too. If I don't, it'll just anger him more. And I grimace, realizing that I'm thinking about Dad, not P. The pissed-off wolf is bigger and stronger than Dad, so he's bound to be 10 times worse. Plus, unlike Dad, he has no reason not to kill me. Arguing will show him I'm no Omega and ruin any chance I have of getting away. "Last week, he got cocky," P spits out. Going back to telling me about Dad decided to play against a wolf. He shakes his head at its absurdity. There'd been rumors, talk of a guy from out of town. P continues, making his distaste for Dad clear. "I sent Sam to investigate when he realized it was a wolf." Purses his lips, his grip on the wheel tightening. "Let's just say Sam cleaned him out good. Got an IOU for the 10 grand he stole from our neighbors." I gasp. When P said Dad was playing poker, I'd assumed he won a few tens or 20s. With people as poor as us, that could mean gambling away everything you own. I also pictured Dad getting drunk and betting a bunch of money against P to turn things around. I never once considered that Dad might have won anything substantial because he couldn't have. "Oh, it was him. All right," P insists, his voice harsh. "Use the money to pay off the local pack." "Pay them off?" I ask why. "It costs 20 grand a year for a rogue to live on their land." When P says the word rogue, it's laced with disgust as though to him we're the worst scum on the planet. "I spoke with the alpha and he said, 'Your dad was behind on payments. Had to join the pack or leave town.'" Then he suddenly came into 10 grand a few weeks back. All I've ever wanted was to belong. Dad knew that. There's no way he would have spent 20 grand a year so we could stay poor and alone when we could have had a nice place to live and plenty of food. Dad always complains about how much being a rogue sucks. If he had a chance to change that, why wouldn't he have taken it? Plus, where would he get that kind of money if he's never been able to hold down a job? He'd have had to rob banks, sell drugs, or do something illegal to pay off the pack. If he had, I would have known about it, wouldn't I? I fight back tears and stare at the empty road for what seems like hours. P doesn't say anything either, which is a relief, but it also leaves me with way too much time to think. At first, I kept picturing Dad on the couch watching TV like he didn't just pawn me off to a pissed-off wolf. When I actively try not to think about it, it only makes me worry about P. I guess the Omega Act works because P doesn't hurt me for the remainder of the drive. Eventually, he gets off the highway and enters a small town. I spot a sign that reads Mapleton. I've never heard of it. PayU drives down Main Street past Joe's Pizza and a grocery store and then turns onto a dirt road. The road seems to go on and on, winding slightly here, twisting there until there is nothing around but trees. Soon I start to wonder if P plans to kill me and bury my body where no one will find it. I tense up, ready to bolt if I have to. But then P takes a right and a huge mansion looms up ahead. It's four stories tall and so broad that even if I shift, it would still take several minutes to run the length of it. It's no wonder P could afford to throw away 10 grand on me. He's a gazillionaire. Puluo drives up to the mansion and parks the truck in the empty driveway. Without missing a beat, he pulls the keys out of the ignition, unlocks the doors, and jumps out. I only have enough time to unbuckle my seat belt before he opens my door and lifts me right out of the seat. I clutch my bag as he pulls me out of the truck, my feet dangling in the air for several seconds before he abruptly sets me down. With a pointed look, he turns and heads towards the mansion. I stare after him for several seconds, and before he looks back, I realize he expects me to follow. Pio reaches the front door, which I'm kind of surprised he keeps unlocked, and jerks it open. He gestures for me to enter ahead of him, and after a second of hesitation, I step inside. Ps, slams the door shut behind us, and throws the deadbolt. I gulp. "Stay here," B orders. And before I have a chance to respond, he crosses the foyer and is halfway up the stairs. I stand frozen in place, watching him take them three at a time.

Chapter Saffron P. With P gone, I wonder if I should make a run for it. This could be the only chance I get before he puts guards on me, locks me in a dungeon, or beats the crap out of me. I tried to remember if P left the keys in the truck, but I'm pretty sure he took them with him since I can't hotwire a car. I guess that option's out. Also, I can't drive. Not that I wouldn't try if I got the chance. I mean, how hard can it be? I look back at the door longingly. My only other option is to shift and run, but P is much faster than I am. Plus, this place could have guards or other wolves who would try to stop me. I need to find out what I'm dealing with first before I make my move. The stairs end on the other side of a huge foyer the size of half a football field. The floor is marble, so clean that it glistens almost as much as the huge crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. I hope PW doesn't expect me to keep that clean because it looks like a lot of work. I stand very still and with the entire foyer between us, the couple doesn't seem to notice me. Instead, they turn right and walk into what appears to be the living room. I only have a partial view of it, but I can see several brown leather couches and matching coffee tables. The boy sits down on the nearest couch and pulls the girl onto his lap. She straddles him and he wraps his arms around her waist and leans in for a kiss. When their lips lock, I turn away, blushing. There is another door to my right, and it's partially open. Desperate to look anywhere but at the makeout session, I gently set down my bag, take a few steps toward the half-open door, and peek inside. It's a huge walk-in closet. Waist-high shoe racks line the walls holding heels, dress shoes, sneakers, and boots in a variety of styles and sizes. Some are old and worn, others are brand new, and the rest fall somewhere in between. I don't think I've ever seen this many shoes in one place, not even in a shoe store. In the center of the room, jackets hang from coat racks, and I swear there are thousands. I lean in and take a sniff, thinking this stuff belongs to a few rich wolves, and it's the perfect opportunity for me to memorize their scents. Instead, various smells assail me, and I estimate that dozens of wolves passed through this room in the last couple of hours alone. Who knows how many of them inhabit this place and are here right now, ready to pounce if I run. For all I know, P has an entire army. I can't smell any humans, so my best guess is that I'm at a packed house. I've been to the one back home, the one time I needed the pack doctor to look at my broken leg. Usually, Dad took care of my injuries at home or just left me to do it myself, but it was a nasty break. That pack house was much smaller and less impressive than PS, but the general setup was the same. A bunch of wolves living together under one roof and making out in public if the couple on the couch is anything to go by. Being in a packed house is way better than being alone. Obviously, on the other hand, it will be more difficult to escape. There are too many wolves around. I can smell them. Even if so far I haven't seen anyone but P and that couple. I wonder if I should have tried to escape the moment P left and if there is still time to make a break for it. I glance at the tongue wrestling pair to make sure they haven't noticed me and quietly pick up my duffel bag. The girl is on the guy's lap and their makeout session is getting hot and heavy. I'm pretty sure his hand is under her shirt. I feel my face burn just as I hear footsteps coming down the stairs.

Chapter 7. Saffron POV.

I look up and see a girl around my age. The best way I can describe her is that she looks popular, confident, attractive, and as Jen would put it, totally unapproachable for us mere mortals. Unlike my baggy clothes and torn sneakers, the girl's skinny jeans, black tank top, and high-heeled boots accentuate her slender figure. Her complexion is tanned and flawless. Her features enhanced by long, straight black hair and bangs. Unlike me, she's wearing makeup, and the black eyeliner makes her dark eyes seem huge as they turn in the direction where I am, just staring now.

She probably thinks I'm some pervert who likes watching makeout sessions. I feel my cheeks burn, and I turn beet red until I probably resemble a tomato.

"Get a room, you guys!" The girl yells at the couple, and they break apart. The guy grins sheepishly, his hand still under the girl's shirt, and she giggles. Neither makes a move to get up from their spot on the couch.

"Okay, Saffron." The girl looks back at me, but doesn't wait for an answer. "Come with me." She turns around and starts heading back up the stairs. Still blushing, I keep my face averted from the couple and quickly follow.

Then I remember that P told me to stay put. I have to stay here and wait for— I pause, not sure what they call him.

"Alpha Pattern," the girl supplies.

And I wonder if she's talking about P, or if he just delivered me to an even scarier, more powerful wolf.

"His orders," she adds.

Since the girl knows my name, I figure someone must have talked to P, and that I should probably follow her. I nod and follow her up the stairs, walking single file even though the staircase is wide enough to fit four easily.

On the second floor, the girl takes a right while the stairs continue. I look around, taking in my surroundings and memorizing every detail for when I escape. There's a hallway that goes on and on in both directions, stretching the length of the entire house. Doors line both sides, and we pass a bunch that are closed before reaching one that's open. I glance inside, and it looks kind of like a dorm room, but only bigger.

There are two beds, and a teenage girl is sitting cross-legged on each of them. The two are facing each other and are having an animated conversation without once looking up at each other. Their eyes are glued to their screens, thumbs flying, and every few seconds one of their phones dings. A few other doors are also open, and the girls inside are reading books, typing away on laptops, checking their phones, or simply hanging out. They all have one thing in common: they're all teenagers, and they're all girls.

"Why aren't there any adults here?" I asked suspiciously. "Or boys? What is P doing with a house full of teenage girls? And did each one cost him 10 grand?"

Well, except for that one boy downstairs. Not that I'm suggesting he'd cost more or less, just that he's not a girl.

"It's a pack house," the girl states like it should be obvious. She stops and gives me a weird look. "Boys are on the third floor."

"What about adults?" I ask, since she doesn't mention anything. "Does P kill off anyone over 18? Maybe he doesn't like the competition. Or it's so bad here that the minute they're all enough, they all run away."

"They're on the fourth floor," the girl tells me. "There's Alpha and Luna, Beta, his mate, the doctor and nurses, a few housekeepers, and some dorm supervisors."

"What about parents? And why aren't there any little kids around?" The whole thing is starting to creep me out. "What if P is running some illegal operation and kidnapping teens or buying them as slaves?"

The girl laughs at my horrified expression. "Haven't you ever been in a pack house before?" she asks. "Families live in houses around the property. When a kid shifts for the first time, they move into the pack house."

Her explanation seems to make sense, though I'm no expert on how wolves usually live. Dad and I are rogues, and the one time Dad took me to a pack house, I'd been in too much pain to pay attention. I recall the place being somewhat empty. It was just the doctor. And once he'd set my broken bones, the alpha, I had to lie and tell him I fell out of a tree. And Dad acted concerned, just like a real parent. He even held my hand while the doctor worked. Then I was too pumped on painkillers to notice much of anything else.

"This is my room." The girl stops in front of an open doorway. "Alpha says, 'You'll be staying with me.'"

I look inside, and it both looks like the other rooms and doesn't. It has two beds, one on each side. Across from each bed are the identical desks, bookshelves, and leather chairs I'd seen in other rooms. I even spotted two closets, one on each side. The difference is that this girl's room is a complete mess. I don't mean a usual mess like Anna's room, or Jen's little brother's, or our house after a rogue attack. This room appears to have survived a hurricane or has just been ransacked by a team of ninjas.

The closets are open, and clothes are strewn everywhere. They're all over the floor, on both chairs, and even on the desks, tossed into random, messy piles. One bed is unmade and covered with shirts and jeans, while books are stacked on the other. I see a handful of shoes on the bed, too, and all over the floor, but it's hard to find matching pairs in the mess. The desks are better, though not by much. One is covered with piles of makeup, while the other holds a laptop, a backpack, notebooks, and several lacy bras. I stare at them for a second and blush. I sneak a peek at the girl, and she quickly looks away.

"My stuff goes on that side of the room," she says, pointing to the right. "I'm going for a run. When I get back, I expect this place to be spotless."

With that, she turns around and sprints down the hall. My jaw drops, and I gape after her. Did that happen?

Chapter Saffron POV.

I stand in the doorway for a few seconds and stare at the girl's mess of a room. I can't believe this is happening. It's all Dad's fault that this is way worse than anything he's ever done before. Not this room; this entire day. How could he sell me to a wolfpack and make me their slave? He had no right to do that.

I cross the room, careful not to step on anything, and look out the window. It overlooks the front of the house, and I can still see P's truck right where he left it. Beyond the paved driveway, no matter which direction I look in, all I see are trees. I set down my bag and slide open the window. A slight breeze ruffles my hair, and the sun warms my face as I look down and lean out.

I could squeeze through the opening and make this jump with no problem. I could probably hang off the windowsill and still make it down unharmed if I were human. But as a wolf, I have absolutely nothing to worry about except guards. I have to worry about those, which means that escape will have to wait, at least until I'm sure P's forgotten about me and no one's watching.

I turn back and look around the room. I should toss everything from my side of the room onto the girl's and let her deal with it when she gets back. I mean, come on. That's what any sane person would do. That or make a run for it.

Instead, I move my duffel bag out of the way and try not to grind my teeth as I start putting things away. The girl doesn't scare me, and I'm not all that worried about making her mad. It's the pissed-off wolf that I'm most concerned about. For P to believe I'm an omega, I need to act like a complete pushover. I can't afford to have the girl tell him that I stood up to her and didn't do as I was told. For all I know, she could be P's daughter. Or maybe even this Alpha Pattern's. Unless P is Alpha Pattern, I guess she could be both. She doesn't look much like the pissed-off wolf, but she has his coloring. Plus, the fact that she was sent to get me probably means she's someone important.

If I don't clean the girl's room, the next thing I know, P will be beating the crap out of me or starving me in some dungeon. Neither option seems very appealing. There's also the fact that P just bought me for 10 grand, and cleaning is now part of my new job description. Whether I like it or not, from now on, I'll be three things: housekeeper, omega, and slave, at least until I can run away.

As I arrive at work, I remind myself that this is essentially the same thing as cleaning up after Dad. Better, since the girl doesn't have bad bio, her stuff doesn't smell like an ashtray, and her clothes aren't bloody or stained. The worst is always cleaning clothes covered with my blood, rubbing at a stain while remembering the pain I felt from the blow that caused it. In comparison, cleaning this girl's room is an improvement, even if she does have more stuff than I can ever dream of owning.

I'm piling all the dirty clothes onto my bed when a little girl who looks maybe seven or eight interrupts.

"What are you doing?" she asks from the doorway.

She's wearing jeans and a pink T-shirt that has Justin Bieber's name and photo printed on the front. The girl has long black hair and dark brown eyes, which remind me somewhat of my roommate.

"I'm cleaning," I state the obvious, not rudely, just matter-of-factly. For a second, I'm tempted to ask the little girl if she wants to help. Perhaps I could convince her that cleaning is fun, like in *The Adventures of Tom Sawyer*, which we read in school last year. On the other hand, this girl might be someone important, like the Alpha's daughter, and doing her work could get me in a lot of trouble.

"Do you know where the laundry room is?" I ask instead.

"Sure," the girl tells me, heading out the door and turning right. "Come on, I'll show you."

She runs down the hall and skids to a stop in front of an open door. I catch up and see that the room has four washers and four dryers.

"All the stuff's in here," she tells me, crossing the room and opening a door that leads to a large closet. She points to a shelf where the laundry detergent is, and I spot some other cleaning supplies that I'll need.

"Thanks," I tell her.

"Welcome," she smiles. "I'm Nikki Sophie."

I grab a duster, mop, and some floor wash and head back to my room with Nikki by my side. As we walk, a door down the hall swings open, and two girls my age step out. They're both dressed in tight yoga pants and tank tops, their blonde hair tied back in ponytails. The girls stop and stare at me in surprise.

"What is she wearing?" the one on the left whispers, and her friend giggles.

They're pretty far away, but since I'm a wolf, I have no trouble hearing them.

"It's a Justin Bieber shirt!" Nikki yells, also having heard every word, and storms down the hall toward my room.

I'm pretty sure the girls aren't laughing at Nikki's shirt, but at my faded, ill-fitted clothes. I bought my outfit at a thrift store last year, and I've had to sew it back together dozens of times. Usually, when Dad and I fight, I shift first, saving my clothes from damage. Sometimes though, Dad and I fight in human form or shift mid-fight, and my clothes suffer. My current outfit may suck, but I don't have money to spend on new clothes, especially not when I'm here to pay off a $10,000 debt. Plus, I'm lucky I'm not wearing Dad's hand-me-downs. Dad, who's probably lounging in front of the TV, drinking beer, and not sparing me a single thought. Tears spring to my eyes, and I storm off after Nikki, so upset about Dad's betrayal that I couldn't care less about what some stuck-up girls think.

When I get to my room, Nikki is standing in the doorway, her hands on her skinny little girl's hips.

"I like Justin Bieber," she tells me, stretching out her shirt to show off his photo. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"No?" I phrase it more like a question. *Please don't get upset,* I beg silently. *I have enough problems right now. I don't need some kid crying or throwing a tantrum.* I wish I knew what to say, but I'm not entirely sure how to communicate with kids. The only one I've ever spent time with was Jen's little brother, Noah. He was always glued to an iPad, bragging about his high scores and telling me about games I'd never heard of. All I've ever had to do was nod along and act impressed.

"Okay." Nikki grins and lets go of her shirt.

I sigh in relief, suddenly wishing I were a kid again. If only my problems could be so easily fixed. The only problem I can fix right now is this mess of a room. I set down the cleaning supplies and grab a handful of laundry. Luckily, the mean girls are no longer in the hall. The room they exited is closed. And when Nikki sticks out her tongue at it, I giggle.

"Jess isn't so bad," Nikki says, and it takes me a second to realize she's talking about the two girls. "And the mean one's Caitlyn."

I wonder which one's which. But before I can think about it for too long, Nikki asks, "Are you going to clean my room next?"

"We'll see," I tell her, even though what I want to say is, *In your dreams.*

Nikki watches me as I fill and run the washing machines, and then plops herself on my bed to watch me clean. She never offers to help, but she doesn't get in the way either. As I work, I realize that it's the perfect opportunity to dig for information. I need to plan my escape, which means figuring out how many guards P has and when and where they patrol. I should also get a better idea of P's plans for me, so I know whether to rush my escape or bide my time. Nikki's a kid, so I could probably trick her into talking, unless P sent her to act all innocent and report back everything I say. Should I take the risk and ask her a bunch of questions, or stay quiet and wait to see what happens next?

Chapter N. Saffron POV.

I try to act casual while I clean, even though my heart is racing. If Nikki realizes I'm hatching an escape plan, I could be minutes away from being locked in a dungeon.

"How many wolves live here?" I ask, trying to sound like a curious and very innocent omega. Whatever that's supposed to sound like.

"A lot!" Nikki grins.

Not helpful. Unless she knows I'm planning to run away and she's telling me not to bother.

"Do you like it here?" I try again. Maybe if I can get her to talk about her life, she'll naturally reveal something useful.

Nikki nods. "I shifted this summer, so I had to stay with my sister until school started." She pretends to gag. "Then Nisha, she's my best friend, shifted, too, and we got our own room." Nikki grins.

"So, everyone moves to the pack house after they first shift?" I ask, to confirm what my roommate told me earlier.

"Yep," Nikki replies, popping the P.

"What's the Alpha like?" I ask conversationally.

"He's okay," Nikki shrugs. "I like Luna better. She's really nice."

I wonder if P is Alpha Patton. I try to imagine him being married to someone nice, but the only image that comes to mind is of a female bodybuilder, her muscles rippled and her face contorted into a scowl. So, I quickly pushed that mental image aside. For all I know, there might be a wolf who outranks P, a wolf they call Alpha, and he might be nice. Or maybe that's just wishful thinking.

I attack the floors with the mop and continue to question Nikki while I work. "Does the pack have any slaves?" I ask. It feels weird saying it out loud, but I don't see any other way of getting the information.

"Slaves?" Nikki shakes her head, eyes wide. "Slavery is wrong. Didn't you learn that at school?"

"I guess," I mumble. *Am I the first slave P purchased? Or does he have a different name for us? Employees, housekeepers, Omega.*

"Miss Elmer says slavery was abnolished," Nikki adds.

"You mean abolished?" I correct.

"Aha!" Nikki nods emphatically. "People can't be slaves now. It's not right."

"It's not," I nod.

Nikki just rolls her eyes like she thinks I'm crazy. I consider asking her some more questions, but I don't want to push my luck. There's a fine line between a curious omega and a rogue trying to dig for information, and that's one line I know not to cross.

Sighing, I focus on dusting and putting away all of my roommate's stuff. As I work, Nikki tells me about her best friends, Nisha and Joshy.

"Joshy always wins when we race at recess," she tells me. "But I win when we race after school."

"You do?" I ask absently. I hardly pay attention anymore, not after listening to Nikki describe what she and her friends each had for lunch every day this week.

"Joshy can't shift," Nikki stage whispers. "Nisha can. But I shifted two whole months before she did, so I'm faster."

My smile is all the encouragement she needs. Nikki starts telling me who's better at math. "Nikki's better at division, but Nisha has the entire multiplication table memorized. French, Joshy, hands down. Spelling, Nisha again. Art, Nikki, of course. And Fizz, Joshy, who was the only kid who managed to climb to the top of the rope on Friday."

I zone in and out, picking up bits and pieces of useless information. When I think enough time has passed, I head back to the laundry room with Nikki and Toe, and she continues talking while we wait for the last few minutes of the wash cycle to complete. I try to steer the conversation so I can get something useful out of her, but I don't learn much. Only that Alpha Pattern isn't that scary. The adults are all boring. Well, except for Luna. And Nikki's parents are away visiting cousins, so she hasn't seen them in over a week. None of the information could help me run away.

I load the clothes into the dryers and finish cleaning. I'm covered in sweat, but the floor's no longer a tripping hazard, and the only real problem is my roommate's desk. I clear off the surface, rearranging her belongings so they fit in the drawers, and reveal several photos pinned to the wall. There's one of Nikki with my roommate, another of the blonde in yoga pants from earlier—not the one who made fun of my clothes, but her friend, the one who giggled—and a third photo of my roommate staring lovingly up at a cute guy.

"Is that your sister?" I ask Nikki, pointing at my roommate in one of the photos.

Nikki runs over and climbs onto the chair to take a look. "Yep," she nods. "That's Sara."

"Is the Alpha your dad?" I pry.

"No," Nikki giggles.

"Is the Beta?" I try again.

"Nope." Nikki pops the P again as she says it.

I stifle a groan and go back to cleaning. It's practically impossible to get any helpful information out of the kid. If I want to learn anything, I'm going to have to be obvious about it. I cross my fingers, hoping Nikki keeps our conversation to herself, and take the plunge.

"Nikki," I begin, taking a seat on the other chair and spinning around to face her. "Does the pack house have guards?"

"Of course," she nods. "Haven't you ever been to a pack house before?"

"Not really." I shake my head.

"Did you just shift?" she asks in surprise.

"No," I tell her. "I was around your age. It was back when Mom was still alive, before Dad took up drinking. He looked so different then. He wore nice, clean clothes, had a full head of hair, and didn't have the pot belly or yellowed teeth. He was also sweet and caring. And he never hit me. Not then. When I remember those days, it's almost like it was this whole other person. Like my real dad died the same day Mom did."

I think back to when I first made the shift. Our house backs out into the forest, and the three of us—Mom, Dad, and I—would always go for walks before sunset. Sometimes the two of them would shift, and their wolves would nuzzle me and let me pet them. Other times they'd stay in their human form, and we'd all hold hands as we explored new paths. That day, we barely entered the forest. I spotted the full moon through a canopy of trees, and the next thing I knew, I'd torn my clothes to shreds and shifted. Mom was pregnant then, huge stomach, nine months in, baby due any day, so she couldn't shift. She just kept hugging me and exclaiming that her little girl was all grown up. I can still taste her salty tears as I licked them away, and the feel of her flowing mane of golden-brown hair tickled my ears.

"Then where did you live?" Nikki asks, bringing me back to the present. A present where Mom is gone and Dad just sold me to a wolfpack.

"I stayed with Dad," I mumble, holding back tears.

Nikki doesn't seem to notice that I'm upset. After an awkward pause, she begins talking about all the homework her teacher, Miss Elmer, assigned over the weekend. The non-stop chatter starts to annoy me, especially when all I really want to do is to be left alone so I can wallow in self-pity. But eventually, Nikki's energy and optimism slowly start to rub off on me. By the time I got the clothes from the dryer, I'd stopped thinking about Dad entirely.

Nikki follows me to the laundry room and climbs onto one of the washers. She offered to help me fold, but I decided it was not worth getting in trouble over and doing all the work myself. It takes six trips to get all the clothes back to my room with Nikki skipping after me and singing Bieber songs off-key. When I'm done, I'm exhausted and covered in sweat. But aside from the stacks of folded laundry all over both beds, the room looks spotless.

"What do you think?" I ask Nikki.

"Looks great!" She grins and climbs onto my roommate's chair. She sits down cross-legged and watches me put piles of clothes away. I make my bed next, and I'm about to make my roommate's when a loud shriek makes me jump.

"What are you doing, my roommate?" Zara demands from the doorway.

I'm about to point out that I'm cleaning when I realize she's not talking to me. She's facing her little sister, hands on hips, looking so much like Nikki that I have to stifle a grin.

"You can't be in here!" she shouts, pointing at the door. "Go to your room!"

Nikki looks hurt for a brief second and then quickly turns angry. She jumps off the chair and glares up at her sister, her small hands bunching into fists.

"I'm telling Luna!" she yells and marches past her sister. She stops in the doorway. All her anger magically disappears, and she smiles and waves at me. "Bye, Sophie," she says. She gives her sister a final glare, sticks out her tongue, and runs off.

"Sophie." Zara turns to me. "I thought you were Saffron."

"I am. It's a nickname," I tell her, and relief washes over her. It is as if I just said to her that the paper she forgot to write is not due until next week. Zara's face is expressive, as if she never learned to hide her emotions. I feel sorry for her. The poor girl wouldn't survive a week living with Dad. That's for sure. Dad gets angry when I smile, when I cry, when I'm angry. You get the picture. So, I've learned to school my emotions. No matter how I feel on the inside, my face is only allowed to say one of two things: I'm scared or I don't care.

My roommate's face, like a rainbow, moves through relieved to annoyed, and then finally settles on embarrassed. I wonder what she's thinking about and keep an eye on her as I go back to making her bed, curious to see what emotion will come next.

"Leave it," Zara instructs, gesturing at the bed. "Alpha wants to see you," followed by worry.

It's not exactly what I was hoping for.

Chapter 10. Saffron POV.

I take a deep breath, steel myself for my meeting with Alpha Pattern, and follow Zara down the hall. I wonder if I'll be meeting with P, as pissed off as ever, or an even scarier wolf that outranks him. The idea makes my heart race. Even though I've done it a million times, I mentally rehearse every detail of my omega act: the trembling, hunched shoulders, bared throat. My instinct keeps screaming at me to fight, to run, to do something. But that would be stupid. I have to convince the Alpha that I'm harmless, or I might as well kiss my future goodbye.

Zara and I head down the hall and then up the marble staircase. We pass the third-floor landing and continue until we reach the fourth floor where the adults live. At the landing, we turn right and head down the empty hall. Zara leads me past half a dozen closed doors and stops in front of a room with a golden plaque that reads "Alpha." She knocks loudly, and I hold my breath. A few seconds pass. Then P's gruff voice tells us to enter, and I follow my roommate inside.

P is seated behind a large desk, and Zara stops directly in front of it and bows her head in respect. I do the same and conclude that P must be Alpha Pattern after all.

"Has Saffron been behaving herself?" P asks.

"Yes, Alpha," Zara responds, blushing, while I fight to suppress a growl. I don't like P talking about me like that, like I'm some little kid that Zara has to babysit instead of the girl who just slaved for hours cleaning her hurricane of a room.

"Good. Good." P nods. "Zara, you'll drive Saffron to school tomorrow."

"School?" My anger instantly dissolves, and my heart leaps. P wants me to go to school! I don't think I've ever been that excited about the thought of classes, books, and homework in my entire life. I'm not going to be trapped in some dungeon. I'm not going to be surrounded by guards. I'm not going to be stuck cooking, cleaning, and spending time with P all day. I'll be in a public place surrounded by people who would mask my scent. I'll have dozens of opportunities to escape.

I sneak a quick peek at my roommate and wonder if I could outrun her. What if it's that easy? What if I could walk out the front door, shift, and run? By the time P finds out about it, I'd be miles and miles away. It couldn't be that easy. Sara must be faster and stronger than I, or P wouldn't have assigned me to her. That, and she grew up with a pack while I was just a rogue. Even the weakest pack. Woof. A genuine Omega is probably faster and stronger than I am. Otherwise, a pack would have taken Dad and me in instead of tossing us out on our tails. What I need is a plan.

I know my school and the surrounding area way better than Zara does. I see every hallway, every classroom, and every hiding spot. I could climb out of the second-floor bathroom window, use the emergency exit in the girls' locker room, or— I stop mid-thought. The school is miles away. It took us hours to get here, and it would take just as long to get back. I guess P hasn't thought this through.

"But, um, Alpha," I hesitate. "OPS is two hours away." OPS is short for Oakberg Public School, where I've been going since fourth grade.

There is a moment of silence, and then P jumps up from his chair and slams his hands on the table. "Are you questioning me?" he shouts.

Zara jumps, and I glance at her in time to see her jaw drop. It's like she's never seen the pissed-off wolf. Well, pissed off. She is so weird. P growls, and my eyes snap back to him. Crap. He's going to kill me. My heart starts to pound in my chest fast, and it takes all the control I have not to shift. I swallow nervously a few times before I can get the words out.

"No. No, sir." My voice trembles. All the times Dad and I fought flashed before my eyes. The times he demanded that I stand up to him and fight, even though we both knew I'd lose. All the pain, cuts, the bruises, the broken bones—all things that Dad, who is so much smaller and weaker than P, did. How painful will P's blows be? Will he break every bone in my body? Will I survive? Scary images flash before my eyes, one after the other: P bounding my face with his massive fists, P laughing as I spit out bloody teeth, P breaking my fingers one by one, P throwing my broken body out of the fourth-floor window.

I start to shake and have to fight to snap out of it. I remind myself that I'm still in P's office, still unharmed. P is sitting behind his desk, more calm now, and I glance at Zara. She opens her mouth to say something, only to close it. A few seconds pass in silence, and my heart rate begins to slow down to a more normal pace.

"You'll go to Mapleton," P finally tells me. "Same school as the others. I already sent out an email to have you registered."

"But all my school stuff is in my locker," I argue, and then ask myself why I can't just keep my big mouth shut. First, I risked my life for a toothbrush. And now I risk it for school supplies. It's like I'm stupid or have a profound death wish. Maybe both. I've just been given a chance to go to school, to escape. And I am about to screw it all up. I might as well get the word "rebel" tattooed on my forehead and chain myself up in the dungeon to save P the trouble.

I wait for him to shout again, but he raises an eyebrow. I'm pretty sure he can see right through my obedient little wolf-girl act, and I cower, back hunched, throat bared. I even emit a whimper for effect. I'm proud of myself. P frowns, and Zara stares at me, wide-eyed. Dad's always fallen for my omega act. But I can tell these two aren't buying it. They should look sympathetic, but instead they both stare at me like I'm crazy. I'm so screwed.

"Zara will get you everything you need." By his tone, I can tell P's annoyed at me, but at least he's still letting me go to school.

"Yes, Alpha," I reply, mimicking Zara's posture from earlier, right down to the head bow.

"Go get my son, will you, Zara?" P orders, and Zara rushes off to do his bidding. I start edging towards the door, not liking the fact that I'd been left alone with P. Maybe if I walk backwards really slowly, he won't notice.

Chapter Saffron POV.

"Saffron!" P snaps, and I stop halfway between his desk and the door. "Why don't you have a seat?"

I hate that he makes it sound like a question, as if I have some choice. I have the urge to point that out, but I managed to stay quiet and head for the brown leather couch like a good little omega. I pick the corner that's closest to the door and furthest from P, and perch on the edge of my seat, ready to jump up at a moment's notice.

P ignores me. He flips open his laptop and begins to type like he's already forgotten I exist. After several seconds, I start to relax. When I first walked into P's office, I was too nervous to pay attention to my surroundings. But now that he's busy, I have all the time in the world. His office is quite beautiful. The mahogany desk and brown leather chair stand in stark contrast with the dark green walls, as does the brown leather couch I'm perched on and the one along the wall directly across from me. There are also two matching brown leather chairs to my left, one on either side of a massive fireplace.

My eyes drift up to look at the giant painting hanging above it, and I jerk my head away in horror. "Oh, goddess. How can anyone frame that thing and hang it in public?"

"That used to belong to my father." P looks up from his laptop. For a split second, he looks embarrassed, but then the look is gone, and I wonder if I imagined it. "I know it's a little..." He gestures at the painting a few times, seeming at a loss for words.

*Gross, repulsive. Shouldn't it be allowed in public?* I sneak another peek at it, and it's even more awful the second time around. The two grey wolves are staring at me out of the framed monstrosity while they—while they—Oh, I can't. I snap my head away and pay all my attention to the bookcases along the opposite wall. How can P work in an office with those wolves staring at him all day? They're not just animals, they're wolves like us. The difference is subtle, but anyone of my kind can tell by the slight differences in shape and size and the spark of intelligence in their eyes. I don't even have to look to remember the rest. The image engraved in my mind. There are two wolves, and the larger of the two, the male, stands on his haunches behind the female, his front paws wrapped around her hips. It's like having a painting of two people doing it in the doggy style, or in this case, the wolfie style.

"I've been meaning to get rid of it for years, but my father loved this painting." P slams his laptop shut and stands, pushing back his chair and rounding the desk to join me. Suddenly, I forgot all about the painting and wish I'd chosen to sit on one of the chairs instead of on the couch. If I had, I'd be closer to the door, and there'd be no chance of P sitting next to me. It's just my luck, too, because P heads straight for the couch I'm on. He made a move to join me far enough that another person could fit between us. But I still tried to shift away. I think he notices my discomfort or decides he doesn't want to sit next to me either, because he suddenly switches direction and heads for the fireplace. He grabs one of the chairs and places it directly in front of me, cutting off any chance of escape. Then he takes a seat facing me and raises an eyebrow.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Saffron," he tells me.

Now it's my turn to raise an eyebrow. Except that would be a sign of rebellion. So I stop myself at the last second.

"Tell me, how do you like the pack house?"

"It's okay," I mumble, wondering what he expects me to say and why he even cares.

P nods. "And your room?"

"It's fine."

"Not too much of a mess, I hope." P asks. "I know Zara can be." He pauses.

I shake my head, looking down at my lap. P sits silently for a few minutes, as if waiting for me to continue.

"I cleaned it," I finally blurt out. I want him to see that I'm not lazy like Dad, that I'm a good, hard worker, and that he has no reason to hate me.

"This is your home now, Saffron." P sighs. "And your prison," I add silently. *At least for today, tomorrow I hope to be long gone.* "If you ever need to talk, you can come to me." P continues. "My door is always open."

I glance at the closed door, and I can't help myself. I think it's a mix of nerves and exhaustion, but a giggle escapes before I can stifle it. P glances at the closed door as well, and does something I never thought possible. He smiles.

Chapter 12. Logan POV.

"Come in," I tell whoever's banging on my bedroom door. I take off my headphones, pause the *True Blood* episode I'm watching, and switch to an essay that I keep running in the background. Jess, my ex, got me hooked on the show over the summer, and I still have a few seasons to catch up on. I'd rather not let the rest of the pack know, though. Jasper, my Beta, would never let me live it down, nor would the guys on the basketball team. I know many of them have secretly watched it, too. But admitting it is almost as bad as being caught reading *Twilight*, which I have never, ever done, ever, except the first book. And, oh, never mind.

I scroll through the essay on my laptop, not looking up when the door opens. Whomever it can state their business, and then I will determine whether it's worthy of Alpha's future attention. When I catch Zara's scent, I look up. As always, her eyes move to Jasper's side of the room and only return to mine when she realizes he's not here.

"Hey, Logan." Zara greets me. "Alpha sent me to come get you."

"Thanks, Zara," I say, closing my laptop and heading for the door. It isn't nice to keep the Alpha, my father, waiting. I need to set a good example for my pack. After all, how they treat him now is how they'll treat me when I take over this pack. The other reason I don't waste any time is that I'm pissed at Father, and I can't wait to confront him.

He stopped by earlier this morning to let me know that he was going out of town on business and would be leaving me in charge, as he should have. Then he returned a few hours later and didn't even bother telling me he was home. I had to find out from my packmates that he brought back a girl with him. Not only did he keep me out of the loop, but now the entire pack knows it, too. Ever since I turned 17, Father has been informing me of all pack business, not once making me wait and summoning me hours later. How will my pack respect me when their Alpha still treats me like a kid?

We reach Father's office, and Zara steps back so I can enter first. I lift my hand to knock, but Father calls for me to enter before my knuckles make contact. Father crosses the office toward me, carrying one of the chairs. He sets it next to the fireplace, and my gaze naturally drifts up to that awful painting. I keep hoping it'll disappear one day, but not today.

A movement behind Father catches my eye, and I look over to see what has to be the most gorgeous girl ever to live. She's standing in front of the couch, frozen in place as she stares back at me. She's a few inches shorter than I am. And although her clothes fit poorly and hide her body, I somehow know that they are perfect. That she's perfect. She has waist-length, silky brown hair, and smooth, tanned skin. When I look into her beautiful brown eyes, I know she's the one.

"Mate," my wolf cries, and I take a step toward her. I can't believe I finally found her. My mate's eyes widened, and her full lips parted as she looked up at me. Seeing those lips, I can only think about crushing them with mine. I take another step forward, intent on sliding one hand through her thick, silky hair and another around her waist. I want to pull her in for a kiss and never stop.

"Saffron, leave us now!" Father yells, his voice laced with an authority that ensures obedience. "You too, Zara."

Zara rushes out of the office, and my mate hesitates for a second before following.

"Mate!" my wolf cries again, and I start after her.

"Logan, stay!" Father orders, as if I'm an errant pup and not the future Alpha. My body can't help but obey his order, and I stay rooted in place, breathing in traces of my mate's fading scent. I fight the Alpha's order, willing to resist it when Father speaks over the link.

"Wait, Logan. This is important," he says, his words echoing in my head.

Zara gives us a curious look, probably wondering what's so important, but she knows it's not her place to ask, and leads my mate out. I want to follow, but I figure I can bear a few seconds away from my mate. I relax. Father remains silent until the door closes and the girl's footsteps fade.

"She's your mate?" he finally asks.

"Yes," I reply. All my anger at my father for not summoning me sooner has dissipated. I am so grateful that he found her for me. My mate, I think of her name, Saffron, and how beautiful it is. I've never met a girl with that name. It's so unique, entirely hers. I can't wait to see her again and spend every minute of every day with her. I'm going to start by learning everything I can about her. Then I will kiss those full, sweet lips of hers and never let go. Or maybe I'll start by kissing her. I can always get to know her after I get her naked.

I want this meeting with Father to end quickly and open my mouth to say so. But he doesn't give me the chance.

"Logan, she's not ready," he says, walking around his desk and sitting. He gestures for me to do the same.

"What?" I ask in shock and drop into the chair across from him.

"Sometimes when a wolf finds his mate, she isn't old enough to protect the girl from a confusing relationship she's not mature enough to understand. The mates are separated. The girl stays with her family until she's old enough, or the boy is sent to live with another pack."

Perhaps Father only brought my suffering here to make sure she was my mate before sending her away. Even though I want her now, right now, I know I must obey pack law. I'll have to wait for her 15th birthday, which can't be that far away since she looks about my age. Even if it's just a month, or a week, or even a day, every second away from her will kill me.

"How old is she?" I demand to know just how long a wait I'm in for.

"Around your age, I suppose. Same grade," Father replies.

And I am hit with a wave of relief. Everyone in my class is either 16 or 17 like me. Even if Saffron skipped a braid, she has to be at least 15, right?

"Logan, that's not the problem."

"Then what is?" I demand. "As far as I know, no wolf has ever had two mates, so she can't be with someone else, can she?" My wolf whines.

"She's weak, broken," Father tells me, and I snarl at him in outrage. How dare he insult my mate? Even if he's the Alpha, he has no right. My wolf growls over the link, and all the anger I felt toward Father earlier returns tenfold.

"Wait, Logan," Father demands. "Let me explain."

"This better be good," my wolf snaps.

Father looks pretty taken aback. But then, I can't remember the last time my wolf's spoken to anyone but me.

"Her father's a piece of scum, a rogue," Father starts to explain. "Tried to sell her to me to settle a gambling debt. I only brought her here because living with him was no place for a young wolf. If I thought she was your mate," he trails off.

"What? You'd have just left her there?"

Chapter 30. Logan POV.

"Of course, I wouldn't have just left her there." Father looks at me in disgust.

"Then what? Kept us apart?" Each thought makes me angrier, and my wolf's outrage fills me until I have to struggle to breathe. I get why Father hates rogues, but this is my mate we're talking about. I haven't even spoken to her yet, but I already know she's not like the others. She's a good person and my perfect other half. Why else would the Moon Goddess choose her for me?

"Logan, please listen." Father shakes his head. "She was abused and her spirits broken. She's terrified of me. I growl or look displeased. And her wolf comes to the surface, whimpering and bearing her neck in submission. Even when I spoke gently and showed the girl kindness, I frightened her."

"My mate! What did her father do to her?" I demand. My hands clench into fists at the thought of the rogue. How dare he abuse my mate? If I ever see him, I will kill him.

"I will tear him limb from limb," my wolf adds, no longer speaking over the link. And I agree.

"You'll have to ask her, son." Father pauses, lost in thought. "That's not even the biggest problem. The girl is obedient. Unreasonably so. I ordered her not to run when I brought her here. I could see that she thought I would harm her, yet she didn't try to escape. I even left her alone for a time to allow her to prove herself. But the girl was too frightened even to try. I understand that my orders may carry some extra weight because I'm Alpha. So I tested her. Had Zara give her an order, too." Father sighs. "Logan, your mate cleaned Zara's room because she was afraid of a girl her own age."

The thought of anyone tackling Zara's room, which has "danger zone" written all over it, makes me cringe.

"Never in my time as Alpha have I seen a wolf so without backbone," Father continues. "Even our omegas show bits of rebellion here and there. I don't know what her father did to"

break her, but she's not ready to be your mate. She's no Luna.

I growl at the insult, but I'm mostly just worried about my mate. "I can help her," I tell father. "I will help her."

"You will," Father agrees. "But she is too frightened and too submissive to be our Luna right now. The rest of the pack won't accept her. They'll challenge her and she just doesn't have the strength to stand up to them or bear such treatment."

"You think I can't protect my mate?" I demand. "No one will dare upset her. If they do, they will have to deal with me." I cannot believe a father would ever question that.

"She will bear her throat in submission if any pack member so much as speaks to her. It is unacceptable. If you claim your mate, our pack will see her weakness and you will have to step down as Alpha. Our Luna cannot be cowardly and weak. You know that."

I stare at father. For as long as I can remember, I've known that I would one day follow in his footsteps. It's something I've always wanted, always dreamed of, to be the next alpha. I'm a strong, dominant wolf, and I cannot submit to another. Even allowing father to give me orders is torture. Sometimes it takes everything I have to push my wolf down enough to show father the respect that an alpha deserves. If I'm forced to step down, I'd have to become a rogue and live without a pack. My parents would never forgive me, and they'd hate me like they hate all rogues. I'll never see them or any of my friends again. I wouldn't have anyone other than my mate to talk to, except any children we might have. It would hurt, but it could never match the pain of staying away from my mate. I can't lose Saffron. I want her like I've never wanted anything before.

"It doesn't matter," I tell father, even though it does. It matters. But my mate's issues are more pressing.

"Listen to me, son. If we can teach Saffron how to be a Luna, you can have both pack and mate. Living with her father made her this way, but time away from him should help her heal. I've had a couple of hours to think this through and put together a plan. That was before I realized she was your mate, but it should still work."

"What's the plan?" I demand, latching on to that sliver of hope. I'm also pissed that father had hours to think this through before consulting me. But I'm just glad he knows of a way to fix this.

"We're going to put forth small challenges for Saffron to overcome. Give her unfair orders or ask younger, weaker pack members to do so. In her frustration, she will eventually refuse. When she realizes that no harm has come to her, she'll slowly become braver, stronger. Once she learns to stand up for herself, she will earn the respect of the pack, and you can claim her as your mate."

I sigh in relief. My father's plan makes sense. I know I need to set aside my emotions and follow example. Sometimes he pisses me off, but when it comes to packing business, he knows what he's doing. I nod. "I'll ask her to keep our relationship a secret. When she's ready, we can tell the others." I am not entirely pleased with the decision. I want to show off my mate, not hide her. I also don't want my mate to think I'm ashamed of her. I hope I can explain things without hurting her feelings.

"Aren't you paying attention, Logan?" Father growls. "To prove that she can be our Luna, she has to do it on her own. If you accept her as your mate, she'll have your protection. She'll act brave, sure, but only because she'll know you won't let anyone hurt her." He pauses. "What happens if the pack is in danger and you aren't around? They will need a Luna who can lead them, but without you by her side, she will cower behind them and let them down."

"She knows she's my mate," I let out a frustrated growl and leaned forward on father's desk, glaring at him. "If I don't act on it, she'll think I rejected her. If I hurt her, it'll only make things worse. We can't stay away from our mate." My wolf begs over the link. "She's ours."

"It's for the best. You know that," Father shakes his head. "In time, she'll understand and forgive you."

"No," I shake my head in denial. "I can't let her go through this alone."

"You don't have to stop seeing her entirely," father tells me, his tone placating. "You can take her on daily runs, which will allow the two of you to spend time together and appease your wolf. Perhaps you can even come up with other ways to help her when you get to know her better. Just be sure to act reluctant to spend time with her. Tell her you're just following orders."

I glare at him in response. "We have to make sure no one suspects anything until Saffron is ready," Father rationalizes. "I knew Saffron was your mate the moment you looked at her. I don't think Zara suspects anything yet, but if you don't put on a good act, she will. The pack will, too. They are very perceptive. And if word gets out, we'll have a full-blown rebellion on our hands."

"You're right," I growl. No matter how much I hate father's plan, he knows what he's talking about. He's pack alpha for a reason. "You may see her and speak with her, but no one, including the girl herself, should be able to tell that you like her."

"You know I'm right, Logan."

"What if she confronts me?" I demand.

"Ignore her," he shrugs. "Tell her you don't want a mate." He shakes his head. "You'll think of something."

"No." My wolf howls at me. "We can't do that to her."

I know that. I think back. Not being with my mate is going to be torture. But we're doing this for Saffron to help her get better. She deserves more than life as a rogue. We can give her a pack, make her Luna. Don't you want that for her? My wolf nods. and I sigh with relief. I hope Saffron gets better fast.

Chapter Saffron POV.

I follow Zara down the hall on autopilot, too distracted to try to fight the effect of P's order. For some reason, I can't stop thinking about his son. Logan, the gorgeous, tanned, muscular Logan is hands down the hottest guy I've ever seen. The Logan who made my heart melt the second our eyes met. I want to feel his arms around me and his lips on mine. I want to push him down on my bed. And what the hell is wrong with me? I haven't even kissed a boy before. And now I want to get in bed with a guy I just met. I need to control my wolf.

From the moment I looked into Logan's eyes, she began howling for him, wanting him. She hadn't come to the surface in years. But for a few moments there, I almost lost control. Even now, she keeps trying to get my attention. Howling her desire for Paw's son, I shove her back down into the recesses of my mind where she belongs. But for some reason, she keeps fighting back. I take a deep breath and fight against her, burying her deep within my psyche where she belongs.

Just like dad taught me to do the summer before fourth grade. "Saffron, if you don't want to be homeschooled, you'll need to learn to control your wolf." I remember him frowning at me with disgust. "What's to prevent you from shifting at school? What's to stop your wolf from taking control and doing unspeakable things? Murdering the other kids, mating with every boy you see?" I didn't want those terrible things to happen, but I didn't want to stay home either. When my mom homeschooled me, I loved having her as my teacher. But after she passed away, things changed. Dad started leaving me on my own day after day with homework he didn't even bother to check. I was so bored, so lonely that I studied just so I would have something to do even when I hated every minute. That day I began to practice self-control, terrified of what my wolf might do at school. until I no longer heard her. Until she stopped begging for others of our kind, a pack. Until I stopped feeling her joy when we went for runs. Until she was no longer there after I'd shifted. Until finally I was just saffron again and not some half crazed wild animal.

It's so weird that she's suddenly acting up now. Why is she trying to take over? Is everything that's happened finally catching up to me? Getting sold by my dad to a pissed-off wolf. Then having to clean Zara's room and being in a packed house, not knowing when or if I'll escape. This nightmare of a day must be shattering my self-control. I tell myself to snap out of it. Who cares if my wolf's fixated on Logan? I don't even know the guy. I bet he's like the biggest jerk on the planet. He's P's son, so he's probably cruel, violent, and always pissed off, too. Now that I'm no longer thinking about his lips and his hot body, I'm starting to remember more details, like the fact that he's also big and muscular. I picture P's scowl and shudder on Logan's face. Hig boy almost managed to convince me he wasn't so bad with his "you can always come to me" speech. We even shared a smile for about half a second and then he turned angry and started shouting just like dad smiling one minute then pummeling me with his fists the next. No warning, no explanation. Why should I expect anything different from P.

I realize that instead of heading to our room, Zara leads me down the opposite hall. I wonder where we're going until she opens a door and I realize I'm in heaven. It's the most enormous closet I've ever seen. And it's filled to the brim with school supplies. That's right. There are brand new backpacks, binders, notebooks, pens, pencils, you name it, in a rainbow of colors and a variety of shapes and sizes.

"Take whatever you need," Zara tells me. I stare at all the stuff and suppress a moan. My backpack, which I haven't had the heart to throw out, is still in my locker at OPS. It's light pink and has seen better days. I've ripped it and had to sew it back together at least a dozen times before finally giving up and switching to dad's duffel bag. My binders are also the same ones I've been using since fourth grade, and they're worn and tore. They once had pictures of Disney characters on them, but I covered those up with silver duct tape. I know I'll only be here for a day or two before I run away, but the new backpacks call to me. I pick out a green one, the color of a canopy of trees in the middle of a forest, and then stare longingly at the binders. I should take a few, if only to convince Zara. I'm not planning to run away.

"How many classes do we have?" I ask.

"Five," Zara tells me, and I eagerly pick a different colored binder for each class. I grab a few packs of paper, a green pencil case to match my new backpack, and some essentials: pens, pencils, an eraser, correction fluid, scissors, and a calculator. I do go a bit overboard, actually, but Zara did say to take whatever I needed. If I look like I'm stocking up for the rest of high school, I bet no one will expect me to run away. When I'm done, I clutch my bag to my chest, floating in school supply heaven. Would it be horrible if I ran away with my new bag? It isn't right, but I'd pay Paw back for it as soon as I get a job. I could send anonymous checks or stuff bills into an envelope or something. I've already cost him 10 grand, so what's a few more dollars? I'll probably be in debt for half my life anyway, unless I can sell the house to someone and break even.

Zara leads the way back to our room and looks around. Aside from her unmade bed, the room is spotless, its floor washed, clothes folded and put away, shoes paired up in the closet, and all surfaces free of clutter. All that remains is making Zara's bed. She goes over and grabs one of the bed sheets, and I immediately rush to help.

"No, I got it," Zara pulls the sheets out of my grasp.

"You sure?" I hesitate.

"Alpha made me do it," she blurts out.

"Do what?" I ask, even though I'm pretty sure I know.

"Make you clean my room," she blushes.

"I'm sorry, Saffron."

"It's okay. It's not your fault. It just proves that P is on to me. He must have suspected that the whole frightened little wolf girl thing was an act from the start. Why else would he make Zara give the order instead of just telling me to clean everyone's rooms? It's a good thing I didn't try to rebel. If I had, I would have been in trouble with a capital T." I sigh. "I'm going to have to step it up a notch if I want to escape. From now on, I'm going to have to act like I'm afraid of my own shadow and do anything anyone tells me to. I can't afford to slip up. Not with P letting me go to school. If I'm lucky, I'll be on the run before the final bell. I could try to escape at lunch or ask to go to the bathroom during one of my classes and disappear. If neither works, maybe I could get detention and sneak out. Although that might mess up my good little wolf girl act. Acting like an omega for a day or two will be annoying, sure, but there are worse things than cleaning rooms and following orders. Like the time I had to cook while recovering from seven broken bones, or the time dad made me clean my blood off the floor before my wounds had even closed. Compared to that, being the pack slave is a piece of cake."

Chapter 5. Saffron POV.

"I still feel bad, Saffron," Sara tells me as she finishes making her bed.

"It's fine, really," I tell her. "And just call me Sophie, okay?"

"Sure, Sophie," Zara smiles. "I want to make this up to you."

"It's okay." I roll my eyes. It's not like any of this is her fault.

"No, seriously." Zara takes a few seconds to think. "Look, do you have anything else to wear?"

"Sure. Why?" Zara walks over to my duffel bag and opens it. She rummages through my clothes and shakes her head. "We're about the same size. Why don't you take some of my clothes?"

"No, it's..." I begin. But Zar interrupts. "It's not like I'll need... I mean, well, I just have so many." She shakes her head, walks over to her closet, and gestures at the packed shelves. "I really don't need all of this. You can totally take whatever you want." I try to argue, but Zara doesn't listen and starts pulling items from her closet. She tosses pants and shirts onto her bedclo. I just spent hours washing and folding them, but I kept my mouth shut. She's trying to do something nice for me. So, what if she's a little messy? Well, a lot dirty. When she's done piling all her clothes on the bed, she starts handing me different outfits. I model them one by one, and Zara insists that I keep everything that looks good. I'd feel terrible about it if I were planning to stay, but I'm only borrowing the clothes for a day or two, I guess, except for the outfit I happen to be wearing when I escape. But based on the amount of stuff Zara has and how eager she is for me to take it off her hands, I doubt she'll really miss it. When I'm done trying on everything Zara hands me, half her wardrobe is in my closet. No matter how many times I protest and tell her it's too much, she doesn't budge.

"I want you to have it," she argues. "If I need anything I gave you, I can just borrow it, right?"

"It's your stuff," I mumble. I can't believe Zara is just giving me half her clothes. I mean, I just met her. She can't possibly feel that bad just because I cleaned her room, can she? Maybe she's just a really nice person. Whatever the reason, it's not worth worrying over. She can take all her stuff back when I'm gone.

I plop down on my bed. Trying on clothes could be so exhausting.

"We're not done," Zara tells me.

"We're not," I groan. What more could there be? I've tried on every pair of pants, every shirt, and every sweater Zara owns. I've even tried on a bunch of skirts, dresses, jumpers, and some glittery tube tops that look super weird on me. Zara better not ask me to try on any of her lacy bras or panties. I look at her underwear drawer and feel my cheeks heat up with embarrassment. It's bad enough that I had to wash and fold the stuff. Zara turns to see where I'm looking and stifles a giggle.

"Shoes. You need shoes," she tells me, grinning. "What's your size?"

"Nine," I tell her, still blushing.

"Perfect." Zara smiles and runs out of the room. 5 minutes later, she's back with a massive pile of shoes. "Here, try these on," she tells me, and rushes out again. I gape at the boots, heels, and sneakers, and my eyes widen when she comes back a minute later with another equally large pile.

"Where did you get all those?" I demand. Zara's shoes are tiny, so I can't say these don't belong to her. For a second, I wondered if she had stolen them and then pushed the thought aside as absurd.

"From my friend," she pauses. "Has way too many shoes. You're lucky you have the same shoe size. Mine are a six. They'd be way too small." Sara keeps up a steady stream of chatter about shoe size as she hands me pair after pair, reminding me of her little sister. When I'm done modeling footwear, I've managed to argue my way down to five pairs. Sara tried to insist I keep all of them, that her friend plans on donating them anyway, while I kept arguing I only really needed one pair.

"Fine, I'll take back the rest," Zara sigh, grabbing a handful of shoes. "Let me help." I run over, wobbling in the high heeled booties I'm wearing.

"No, I got it," Zara giggles when I have to grip the bed for balance, then heads out. I take off the booties and admire my relatively new looking flats, sneakers, pink flip-flops, and cowboy boots, already regretting that I'll have to leave them behind when I run away and then arrange them neatly in the middle of my closet. Maybe once I get a job, I'll save up for some nice shoes of my own.

When Zara returns, she sits down on her bed cross-legged and turns to face me. I try to sit cross-legged, too, but I'm wearing a pair of low-rise skinny jeans, and I can feel my butt crack showing. I lie down instead and stare up at the ceiling. As soon as I start to relax and let my mind wander, I think of Logan. All this shopping, or whatever you call trying on all your roommate stuff and getting to keep half of it, was a great distraction. I've almost managed to forget Logan exists, but now I'm back to thinking about his lips. I wonder if his kisses would feel hard or soft. I imagine Logan climbing onto the bed next to me, throwing one of his thighs over mine, and leaning down to kiss me.

"Are you going to miss your old school?" Zara asks.

Crap. I completely forgot she was here. This is so embarrassing. Why can't I stop thinking about Logan?

Chapter Saffron POV.

I try to clear my head and repeat Zara's question over and over until it sinks in. "Will I miss my old school a little?" I admit it's definitely weird thinking I'm never going back to OPS. I'll miss being on the debate team. It was the one extracurricular that Anna, Jen, and I had together. I suppose Jen will likely be elected as the new class president as it was a close call between the two of us. The school will likely need to find someone else to assist the two 9th graders I tutor in math. I sigh more than anything. I'll miss my friends. They'll probably freak out when I don't show up to school. As soon as I can get online, I'll email them some excuses. Would they believe I was staying with cousins? I bet that if I tell them child protective services got involved, they'd buy it. I've never said anything about the physical fights with dad, but they know we're dirt poor and dad's never around. Honestly, if I were a regular human, I would have called Children's Aid years ago.

"You're like Mapleton High," Zara sigh, her sad tone contradicting her words. Her school can't be that bad, can it? Zara doesn't elaborate, and before I realize what I'm doing, I go back to imagining Logan in my bed. Now he's leaning over me and trailing kisses down my body. My breathing speeds up, and I can feel my pulse racing.

"Was it lonely?" Zara interrupts my train of thought before I can embarrass myself.

What's happening to me? Suddenly, I think of another possibility. I mean, it's unlikely since I'm a rogue, but what if Logan's my mate? I can't stop thinking about him, and I want to do things with him that I would never do with any other guy. Is that what finding your mate feels like?

"What?" I ask, my mind still processing the possibility.

"Living without a pack?" Zara asks.

"It was fine," I shrug. "Hey, can I ask you a question?" I roll over onto my side to face her.

"Sure," Zara leans forward and looks at me expectantly.

"How do you know when you find your mate?" I ask. All dad's ever told me was that it rarely happens to rogues. He met mom before he was kicked out of his pack. And I remember mom telling me that when she first saw dad, the old dad who didn't drink, smoke, yell, or hit anyone, they looked at each other and just knew. with Logan. I'm not sure what I know. When our eyes met, I was attracted to him. But I didn't just know. No. Or did I?

"You just know," Zara echoes Mom's words.

"But how? You look into each other's eyes. Your wolf tells you that you found your mate. His wolf tells him the same. And then you fall in love at first sight," Sara sigh wistfully.

"Oh," I reply. My wolf didn't tell me I found my mate when I looked at Logan, but she did want him. What if that's what she meant? And I was too busy gawking at him to pay attention. I'm tempted to ask my wolf if it's true, but I can't risk letting her out long enough to find out. If I lose control and she takes over, she might blow my whole Omega cover. Plus, what if she attacks Zara or Nikki or throws herself at Logan? I don't want to sleep with someone I've just met. I barely know him and I'm pretty sure I'm not in love with him. Meeting him just turned me into a total [ __ ] for some reason.

"You didn't know?" Zara asks curiously. "About mates?" she adds to my blank look. "I've um never talked to any other wolves before. Well, except my dad."

"Yeah, I wouldn't want to talk to my dad about mates either," Zara giggles, but then inexplicably turns sad. I want to ask her if she's okay, but we've just met and I don't want to push her. We sit silently for several minutes. Both of us lost in thought. I alternate between feeling depressed because dad sold me like a piece of property and confused over my feelings for Logan. Zara, meanwhile, looks wistful like a kid looking through the candy store window. I debate with myself about whether to ask her about it when someone knocks on the door.

"Come in," Zara calls. I sit up just as Logan walks into our room. The moment our eyes meet, I want to run to him. I need to be in his arms, to feel his kisses, to touch his sexy, muscular body. Could he be the one?

"What are you wearing?" Logan growls, giving me the once over. I take in his glare, which is so identical to Ps, and it takes a second for what he's saying to register.

"Is there something wrong with my clothes?" I look down at myself and then at Zara for help, but she's gaping at Logan.

"I liked what you were wearing before," Logan tells me.

"Oh," I whisper, fighting back tears. He's not attracted to me. Whatever I feel for him is one-sided, and even though we just met, it hurts.

"Alfa sent me to take you on a run," Logan adds, staring down at his feet. Now he won't even look at me. Do Zara's clothes look that bad? I know I'm a lot more muscular than she is and have a bit of extra weight, but it's not like I have chunks of fat sticking out or anything. Zara would have said something if the outfit looked awful, wouldn't she? I glance at my roommate again, but she still looks mesmerized by Logan. Is she attracted to him, too? I feel tears well up at the thought, but I force myself not to cry. The sooner I can get this run over with, the better. I think climbing off the bed. I start toward Logan, but he shakes his head, stopping me in my tracks.

"Change into to what you were wearing before. I'll wait in the hall." He slams the door, and I feel my heart shatter into a million pieces.

Chapter 7. Logan Piov.

I lean against the wall and wait for Saffron to change. I know I upset her by criticizing her clothes, and I feel awful about it. If any guy had said what I did, it would have hurt her feelings. But because I'm her mate, it's so much worse. I didn't do it because father told me to act disinterested. Well, in a way, I guess I did. Her tight clothes were making it nearly impossible for me to keep my hands off her. When I looked at Saffron, all I could think about was touching her. Her tank top was perfect, cut low enough for me to see some cleavage and short enough to show off a hint of skin below her navl. Plus, she was wearing the sexiest jeans I've ever seen on a girl. They stuck to her like a second skin, outlining the shape of her legs and the curve of her hips. I try taking deep breaths and think about unsexy things like spiders and bath, but I'm still semih hard when Saffron exits her bedroom. She's back to wearing sweats and a baggy shirt, and I realize that I've made a colossal mistake. Her tight clothes outline her sexy body, but the baggy ones hide it, leaving everything up to my imagination. Dressed like this, Saffron is irresistible. I want to slip my hand under her shirt and slide it up her belly. In my fantasy, she's not wearing a bra, and I palm one of her breasts while I kiss her. [ __ ] I grimace, realizing I just pitched a tent. I glance at Saffron to see if she's noticed, then think, double [ __ ] My mate is standing there looking dejected. She's staring at the floor, biting her lower lip. And for a second, I think she might start crying. My wolf, unable to stand, seeing my mate in pain, whimpers.

"Saffron?" I ask softly. She looks up but refuses to make eye contact. "I'm sorry. This is entirely my fault. I hurt my mate's feelings by saying something so stupid and pointless. What was I thinking?" Suffren stares past my left shoulder and doesn't respond.

"You weren't thinking," my wolf growls. "Now fix this."

"You looked really um nice, you know, before," I tell Saffron with a tentative smile. But the smile my mate returns is wobbly. "Maybe you could change back again?" I ask. All I want is to undo what I said, hit the back button, and get a doover of the last 5 minutes.

"I..." Saffron starts to say something, then changes her mind and looks down at the floor instead.

I can't stand to see my mate unhappy, and I have no control over what I do next. Even though I know I'm supposed to act distant, I step toward my mate and put my arms around her, pulling her close. She emits a soft gasp, then another when I kiss the top of her head and cradle her against my body. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings," I tell her.

"It's okay," Saffron whispers against my chest. Slowly, I feel her tension drain away, and she relaxes into me. We stand like that for a few minutes until I feel myself growing hard again. She's driving me crazy with her body pressed against mine, her soft lips blowing hot air against my neck, and her arms wrapped around my waist. I wonder how quickly I can take her clothes off so we can do this naked. Baggy sweats have their advantages. I realize my hands have started to slide under her shirt, and I quickly take a step back. I'm supposed to stay away from saffron, but at the rate we're going, we'll be fully mated before the sun sets.

"Look," I turn away and quickly walk down the hall. I throw a glance over my shoulder to make sure Saffron is following, but I find her rooted in the place where I left her. "Let's go," I ordered, and then practically ran downstairs and out of the house. I would never try to hook up with a girl when I'm in wolf form, so the sooner I shift, the better. I wait long enough to make sure saffrons exited the house before I start jogging into the trees. The minute I'm out of sight, I throw off my clothes and transform into a wolf.

Shifting doesn't happen the way you read about in books or see in movies. We can become wolves anytime, not just during a full moon. We don't scream in excruciating pain as our human bodies break apart and we become wolves. We definitely don't become wild animals that go on some killing rampage. And our clothes don't magically disappear and then reappear when we shift back. We can shift whenever we want, as often as we want. When the transformation starts, heat spreads through our bodies. And for a split second, we feel so close to our wolves that two become one. Then we separate again and we become the wolf, not the human. At least on the outside. On the inside, we're still the same person with a few added wolf instincts that we can override anytime we like. Shifting isn't magic either, which is why our clothes don't shift when we do, but there's also no scientific explanation for why we exist. We do.

Saffron runs up to me and stares down at my wolf. She hesitates for a second and starts looking around for a place where she can shift. She takes a step towards a tree on my left, then changes her mind and goes behind some bushes on my right. I hear shuffling and then a small dark gray wolf with a white belly scrambles out. My wolf is much lighter in color than saffrons and also much bigger. The significant difference in size makes me feel protective. My wolf approves and I wag my tail happily. I approach my mate cautiously, sniffing her, and Saffron returns the greeting. When our wolves are done getting to know each other, I turn towards the forest and begin to run. Saffron follows. She runs behind me, never trying to outpace me. I slow down and she does too. I speed up and she does the same. I'm so focused on my mate that it takes a while for me to realize that someone's following us.

Chapter 8. Logan POV.

I can feel their eyes on me boring into my right, but when I turn my head and try to spot the other wolf, all I see are trees. I glance back at Saffron, wondering if she senses that we have company, but she's looking straight ahead as she follows me. I sneak a few more glances to the right. Still nothing. I almost convince myself I'm hallucinating when I see a flash of gray fur in the distance. Proof that our pursuer is keeping pace. If we weren't on pack land, I'd be worried. But there's no danger here. No rogue would dare venture this close to the pack house, so it has to be someone I know. Probably a wolf I don't hang out with. Curious about Saffron, but respectful enough to stay away.

"Hello," I greet the other wolf over the link, but don't get a response. I'm about to try again, but the feeling of being watched goes away. I guess the wolf didn't hear me and took a different path.

For the next half hour, Saffron and I continue to run. We don't come across any other wolves, but something doesn't feel quite right. When I run with other wolves, they never stay behind me the way my mate is doing. Since I'm the fastest wolf in the pack, they yell for me to slow down, only to run past me the first chance they get. Or they change direction and try to take the lead until I catch up. Only in a hunt do the other wolves follow without question. I suppose this is what father meant when he said my mate is frightened and obedient. It will take time for her to relax, but maybe I can help by encouraging her.

When we reach a large clearing, I begin to run as fast as I can. "Race you to the other side," I yell. As I run through the field, I realize that Saffron is keeping pace quite well. My little mate is really fast, almost as fast as me. Grinning, I slow down enough to let her take the lead, but she slows down as well. When we reach the trees, I stop and we both stand there panting.

"Why didn't you race?" I ask. "I would have let you win." Saffron doesn't reply. She's breathing heavily, but she can easily talk to me over the link and catch her breath at the same time. Maybe she's still mad from earlier and is purposely ignoring me. I sigh and lie down at the edge of the clearing. Saffron lies down a short distance away, not too close, but not with her back turned, as if to show me that she's upset. Could it be that she's just shy and doesn't talk much? Come to think of it, I've only heard her say maybe two words since I met her.

I decided to tell her a little bit about our packs land. "The kids love playing here," I tell her. "The property is fenced off, so there aren't any humans around. Sometimes you can run for miles without seeing anyone." I described the area, the best paths to take through the forest, and all the roads that lead to nearby towns. I even told her about the small gap in the fence that we used to sneak out after curfew or go into town on school nights. Saffron acts completely indifferent the whole time. She watches some birds fly by, licks her paw to get rid of a bit of dirt that's stuck to her fur, and then puts her head down and closes her eyes. My wolf, unable to take the silent treatment from our mate, begs for me to do something. I get up, walk over to Saffron, and nudge her with my nose. She opens her eyes to look at me, and I lick her face, but she doesn't reciprocate. She stares at me.

"Something's not right," my wolf tells me. I feel it, too. But what can I expect? Not claiming my mate and then criticizing the way she looks. "Please don't be mad at me," I beg, wishing she'd yell or cry or do whatever it is girls do. Jess would have probably slapped me by now or started shouting at me and telling me exactly what she thinks of me. So why isn't Saffron? She should confront me about being her mate. Tell me I hurt her feelings. Say that she hates me. anything but this silent treatment.

"Saffron," I practically yell her name when she doesn't respond. "Please say something." She watches another bird fly by instead and my wolf howls with dejection. Finally, I sigh in resignation and start walking toward the pack house. "Come on, let's head back. I guess I've learned my lesson. My mate is master of the silent treatment, and I should never do anything to upset her. I wish I knew how to make things right."

I break into a run. Saffron follows, staying a few paces behind me until a rabbit crosses my path. Instinctively, I veer to the left in pursuit. Saffron follows. She stays behind me, but manages to keep up with me. I start losing sight of the prey and suddenly Saffron's running beside me and then actually taking the lead. Her smaller size means she's quick, but I've never seen another wolf run this fast. I follow my mate around boulders and jump over fallen trees. But no matter how hard I run or how much I push myself, I still fall behind. Soon, my mate is just a blur of gray up ahead. And eventually, I'm forced to follow her scent to track her. When I finally find her, Saffron is holding the dead rabbit between her teeth. She walks up to me and places it at my feet like an offering. She doesn't say anything, my shy little mate, but her meaning is clear. She's forgiven me.

Grinning, I nudge the rabbit towards her with my nose. After that impressive display, she deserves the first bite. We share the rabbit, nudging it playfully back and forth between bites. As we eat, I come to a realization. Saffron, my future Luna, is the fastest wolf in the pack. She's not weak, she's strong, impressive, unbelievable. When the others find out, they'll idolize her. I have to tell father. The minute I get home, I'm heading straight for his office. Once he learns how fast she is, he'll forget all about the rest of this stupid plan. I can already picture him looking at my mate with pride and then marching downstairs so he can present her to the rest of the pack. I yip with happiness, grin at Saffron, and then lead her home. She still keeps pace behind me even now that I know how fast she can really move. Maybe she doesn't bother racing because she knows she can easily win. I stop and turn around to face her. She may be fast, but I can think of some games where we'd be more evenly matched. Like wrestling. I'd love to test my size against my mate's speed.

"Play with me?" I ask, wagging my tail. I dance around her for a few seconds and then bow my lower body, my rear high in the air. "Please," I grin, my tongue lolling out of my mouth.

Saffron's reaction is bizarre. She instantly flattens her ears and tucks her tail between her legs. Before I have time to react, she whimpers and rolls onto her back, bearing her throat. What the hell, Saffron? "Please stop," I beg, but she continues to cower. I just wanted to play. I swear I wasn't going to hurt you. This is what the father was talking about. Our Luna can't be seen like this. It's embarrassing and disgraceful. I don't know what the [ __ ] her father did to her, but when I find the wolf, I'm going to murder him. I will tear him apart. I will rip his throat out filled with rage. I emit one long growl and immediately get a whiff of fear from my mate. "Saffron, it's okay. I swear I won't hurt you." I edge away from her, giving her space. "Let's go home, okay?" I turn towards the pack house and wait until I hear Saffron getting up to follow. Instantly, I break into a run trying to burn off my rage at her father. I race toward the pack house, filled with anger and disappointment, yet constantly aware of how easily my mate keeps up.

Thank you so much for listening to the rejected alphas mate part one. I truly appreciate your support and I'm so glad you enjoyed the story. If you haven't already, make sure to hit that like button, leave a comment with your thoughts, and subscribe to the channel. By subscribing, you'll be the first to know when part two of the series drops. Your feedback and support mean the world, and I can't wait to continue this journey with you all. Stay tuned for more exciting twists and turns in the next chapter of The Rejected Alpha's Mate.