Chapter 1: The Omega Nobody Wants
Josie
The mirror hated me almost as much as I hated it.
I yanked my hair back for the third time, trying to tame the wild white curls that refused to lie flat. My hands were shaking. It wasn’t nerves—it was dread, heavy and clawing like a stone in my chest.
"Ugh, this is pointless," I muttered, tossing the brush onto the cluttered vanity. "Why even try?"
From my bed, Marcy propped herself up on one elbow and smirked. "Because it’s your mate ceremony, Jo. You can’t show up looking like you just crawled out of a grave."
"Maybe I did," I said darkly, picking at the hem of my worn black dress. It was the only thing in my closet that didn’t scream ’pity donation.’
Marcy rolled her eyes. "You’re being dramatic."
"I’m being realistic."
Tonight wasn’t for me. It never was. Every year, the Crescent Fang Pack held a grand celebration for the newest batch of eighteen-year-olds—because at eighteen, the mate bond could snap into place. It was supposed to be the most magical night of a werewolf’s life. But not for me.
Not for the omega everyone pretended didn’t exist.
Marcy stood, adjusted her sleek silver dress in the mirror, and came to sit beside me. She smelled like confidence and lilacs. Her aura was warm. Alpha blood. Respected blood.