Prologue
My heart stammered in my chest violently as my name was yelled loudly across the silent pack meeting, all faces pale and narrowed eyes directly aimed at my shaking form.
"Skyla Lunette. Would you please make your way to the front." The Alpha Samson called again from the front, his hard voice ringing through my ears like a million alarm bells sounding at once, the sound was deafening, almost as deafening as the suffocating silence.
I managed to scuffle my feet awkwardly along the floor, my dull, lifeless eyes directed at the harsh shiny wooden floor as the rest of the hushed pack looked at me like I was already dead, like they were already mourning the loss of their 'precious' pack member.
I stumbled slightly as Alexus, the packs Queen Bee, stuck her long, thin leg out in front of mine, but thankfully being a wolf helped my coordination, slightly. I could feel my fists clench as she giggled innocently under the glare of the Alpha, pretending she was stretching the non-existent cramp in her leg, bitch.
Not that I'd ever call her that, I never had the guts, because I was Skyla Lunette, who puts up with shit because that's all that she's ever had to deal with. I felt my numb legs lead me up the towering high two steps to the small, rounded stage where the pickings were taking place, before reaching the side of the bold Alpha, who glanced briefly at me, before focusing his black eyes back on the second dish of names.
All the eyes that seemed to watch my movements continued to shoot at me like lasers as I watched them. I couldn't stand to meet the disappointed stares any longer, so I shuffled my feet and decided to study my worn out, once red converse, they were much better than disappointment I was receiving from the mass of onlookers.
Why disappointment, or sarcastic mourning, you ask? Well I had been selected for the Alpha Wars, aka The Testaments. The Testaments or Alpha Wars, were basically a battle that was held, where one girl and one boy from each Wolf Capital of America was chosen to fight each other, to the death, to become the Alpha of American Werewolves, all of them.
The winner would become to Alpha, along with their mate, however I didn't have one, as of yet. But still, I bet you're confused on why they were already mourning me and were disappointed even though I hadn't lost/been killed yet. Well, everyone hated me, or were ashamed of my 'weakness', not that they knew what I could do if I wanted to.
But anyway, I guess everyone thought that I'd let the pack down and lose, when really they just didn't know my strength because I never used it, because I never wanted to fight back. I didn't want to fight back against my father, or my brother, or the people who bullied me, because it only made it worse. It gave them a reason to look for a fight, and I tried to avoid them, as best as I could.
A sharp breath from the Alpha drew me back to attention, and I quickly glanced at him to see his breathing falter as he looked at the slip of paper in his outstretched hand, that was now shaking slightly, although I wasn't sure whether it was happiness or sadness that caused its tremble.
"Lucian Samson." He looked across the room expectantly, and I mentally cursed when the Alpha's son, Lucian, stepped up confidently on the stage next to me, a huge cheer erupting across the large gathering of the pack.
Although my heart was thudding at a million miles a second, and my insides felt like goop, I could still feel the sense of fear that built up in me whenever Lucian was about. It was a little like fear and a lot like nervousness, but you know when you get that horrible bubbling sensation in your stomach when you're really nervous, and it makes you fell sick, well when he was around, that feeling always attacked my insides. As well as the little hairs on the back of my neck standing on edge, and my wolf going into prowl mode, as I liked to call it.
