Rejected by the Pack, Chosen by the True Alpha

For three years, a rogue witch named Tanya wore my skin. She drank wolfsbane like fine wine—her dark magic smothering the allergy that should have killed my body within hours. When a lunar eclipse finally frayed her grip, I clawed my way back into my own bones and rushed downstairs, desperate for my family to see the daughter they had lost.

My mother slid a cup of wolfsbane tea toward me without lifting her eyes.

"Mom, you know I'm allergic. I nearly died from it as a child."

She slammed the table and called my suffering a pathetic bid for attention.