Rose Van Buren.

Perhaps you all think being an Alpha’s only child and daughter would make life charming, as if the title alone could wrap me in silk and shield me from every cruel glance.

Maybe, once upon a time, it did.

But not anymore. Not to them.

To them now, I am nothing but The Alpha’s Plague. The girl with no wolf. The shame of the pack.

I have grown used to the whispers, the way they wrinkle their noses when I walk past, as though I carry some disease they might catch if I so much breathe on them. My name alone once carried weight in this hall. Now it is just the punchline to their bitter little jokes, told over drinks when they know I can hear. I was supposed to be a future leader. Protected. Strong. Untouchable. Which is the opposite.

Tonight feels different.

For the first time in a while, there is an assurance of hope.

Tonight is the mating ball.

The one night every young, unmated werewolf dream of. The night we find our fated mates. My father has always encouraged that when I find mine, it will unlock what has been buried deep inside me all this time. That my wolf is only waiting for him, my mate, to call her out of me.

And gods, I cling to that hope like it is the only thing keeping me alive.

I draw in a breath and step into the hall, heels clicking lightly on the polished floor. My black gown pools around my feet with each step, the silk seething elegance as it moves. My hair is swept into an elegant bun, a few soft curls left loose to frame my face just so. A perfect mask, not to reveal my face, no matter how much my stomach twists inside my dress.

The atmosphere is thick and heavy, almost electric, charged with nervous energy and longing. Every scent in the room tangles together, excitement and trepidation mingling, catching on my skin.

Maybe after, tonight everything changes.

But then I hear them.

“She actually showed up,” someone mutters just loud enough for me to hear, and my shoulders stiffen.

“Who would ever want the Alpha’s plague?” another adds, her soft laugh cruel and cutting.

Each word tears me like claws, but I do not flinch. I have learned not to. I keep my chin high and my smile soft, even though my hands tremble slightly at my sides. Tonight is too important to let them win.

“Rose!”

My father’s voice booms across the crowd, clear and authoritative as always. He stands at the head of the stair, seething an Alpha’s glory, the kind of man the room seems to revolve around without realizing it.

“Father,” I say, my voice even as I walk toward him, letting the crowd part around me like water.

He watches me for a long moment before his stern expression softens into something warmer.

“You look beautiful,” he says, lowly but sincere.

“Thank you,” I murmur, letting the familiar comfort of him steady me. He and my mother have never abandoned me, no matter how long my wolf has stayed silent. No matter how lonely I have felt, they have never let me fall.

We sit at the front of the hall, and my heart pounds harder now as the ceremony edges closer.

“You nervous?” he asks quietly, glancing down at me.

“A little,” I admit, twisting the fabric of my gown between my fingers. “What if…” My voice falters. “What if he doesn’t want me?”

My father’s jaw tightens, his eyes flashing with that fierce protectiveness I have known all my life.

“Then he is a blind and also a fool,” he says. “Any man who cannot see you for who you are does not deserve you.”

I smile faintly at his confidence, though the doubt still lingers, heavy as swamp at my feet.

What if nothing changes tonight? What if I stay wolfless, unwanted, a stain on my family’s name?

No. I cannot let myself think that way. Not now.

The messenger steps forward then, his voice rising over the crowd, clear and formal as he announces the start of the ritual.

The excitement thrums through the air, a collective heart beating fast.

This is it.

I smooth my gown one last time and stand as the drums begin to roll. The tension is thick now, faces bright with anticipation, bodies taut with hope.

“You will know him when you see him,” my father whispers, and the words settle into my chest like a promise.

The witch Ariel steps forward. Her robes shimmer as she raises her arms and begins her ancient chant, her voice lyrical and strange as always.

The lights flicker, then extinguish completely.

Darkness fills the room.

A hush falls over everyone, as though we are all holding one collective breath. Even my own seems too loud in my ears.

Then, at last, a single beam of silver-blue light reflects down from above, painting a brilliant circle on the polished floor. More follow, one by one, casting ethereal pools through the gloom as the chosen step forward, each bathed in the glow of fate while their mates wait uncertainly at the edge of the light.

Then, impossibly, a light finds me.

It sears icy and hot, both at once, wrapping around me like fire. My heart stops and then races as though it might burst. The blue brilliance finds me. I step forward without even realizing it, carried away by the impossible hope thrumming in my chest.

The hall falls utterly silent. Every eye is on me now.

And then, across the room, another shaft of silver-blue surfaces, illuminating a figure cloaked in the shadows.

For a moment no one moves.

Then he steps forward, and the light catches him fully. My breath catches and the world seems to stop turning.

His face becomes unclear even as he moves into the center of his circle of light. Under the counter shadows, his eyes find mine instantly and hold me there.

And just like that, a ripple of gasps sweeps through the crowd.

I can barely breathe. My blood hums in my veins, my legs feel unsteady beneath me.

I stare at him — at my mate.

The man who stands across from me is tall, with broad shoulders that carry weight that his outfit needs, his dark hair catching faint glints of blue under the light. His jaw is set, his posture still and tense, but it is his eyes that pin me in place even without getting a full frame of his face, yet.

They are unearthly, uncertain and vulnerable all at once, and they are looking at me as though no one else exists.

In that moment, nothing inside me stirs.

A soft murmur rises from the crowd, a thousand shocked voices blending into one.

But I barely hear it.

All I can see, all I want to see, is him.

And for the first time in my life, the fear and shame imbedded in my chest begin to fade away, replaced by glints of hope.

Who is he?

And would he be mine?