Chapter One
Millie
At four, my first dream came true. No, not the one about becoming a fairy princess or about waking up on my birthday to see a huge dollhouse decorated with a giant red bow waiting for me. I’d have welcomed either of those. No, the dream that faced me that day was the one where my entire life fell apart, the one where I lost my mom. A nightmare.
An accident, they said. The brakes went out on her car when she was driving to town to buy some groceries. Terribly sad, and not something a little girl could understand, even with a dream to predict it. Nobody tried hard to explain.
In our sleuth, gender and alpha/omega roles were defined, meaning, my father was too busy doing male things to have much time for his only daughter. I was passed around, different women taking me on as they had time and tolerance for someone else’s kid.
Growing up in a sleuth, without a mom, was anything but fun. There was no one to shield me from the cruelties of daily life, to make sure I got my fair share of necessities and especially not any extras. As the little bear without a mother, I got pity but not much else.
The dream never came again, once the event happened.
Somehow, I managed to stumble through childhood.
Growing up, we were homeschooled—very disjointed in my case with all my moving around. We learned the basics to function in the wider world. Reading, writing, a little math, and a lot of natural history and science. But after that, we generally moved into a sort of apprenticeship, where we spent time learning how to do things around the place.
They let me go to college. Sort of. My interests never came into play, only the skills the elders believed would make me more valuable in the mating market. While they did not match my interests, they had a major benefit: time away from the sleuth. And in the years since I began studying, I’d not only absorbed the education classes that would allow me to homeschool my mate’s young when I was given to him but begun to blossom socially. A square peg in the sleuth, I was just another girl at college and finally made some friends. Friends like Isella, whose wedding I would be attending on the weekend.
A wedding. Such a human concept. I tried to pretend I was only going because she’d been kind to me from the first day of my enrollment, when I’d showed up so scared, so out of my element, I’d almost turned around and run out.
But Isella, who happened to sit next to me toward the back of my first class, was not afraid of anything. She met each challenge presented by our instructors and professors with courage and studied hard enough to finish her degree a full year early. And she did it for love.
Her family insisted she graduate before marrying, and Isella accepted the challenge, which was why I was currently standing in a church—a whole new experience—and watching her exchange vows with the love of her life. In the sleuth, there was no marrying for love. An omega would be assigned or perhaps sold to the alpha with whom she would spend her life.
Isella faced her male, their hands linked as they each spoke vows. My vision blurred, tears pouring down my cheeks and for sure smearing the makeup I wore. My friend had hair and makeup done for her whole bridal party.
She’d also been studying education with the intent to become a public school teacher, already had a job offer for the fall. As she told her new husband that she would love him forever, respect him and care for him, she was also stepping intoa future that offered fulfilling work and, of course, children. But not right away. Oh no. She and Mark would enjoy time alone before beginning their family, she’d told me. There was no rush; they were young.
Everything about her life was so different from mine. And I didn’t want her not to have it, but I wanted it too. To choose the person I loved and mate them. To use the education I’d worked too hard to achieve to help children become their best selves and have fulfilling lives as well. I wanted to teach. To meet someone, fall in love, and have my father shake his hand as I’d seen Mark doing with his new father-in-law before going to stand at the front to await Isella.
Vows complete, they kissed, and my knees wobbled, carried away at the passion of it all. Shopping for her trousseau, she’d giggled about the wedding night, holding up one sheer, lovely nightie after another. “Is it too much?” she’d asked. “I don’t want the dear boy to faint.”
I couldn’t imagine her tall, broad-shouldered male fainting, but I agreed that the sight of her in those beautiful gowns could take down just about any male. She glowed at my comments and bought all of the nighties she’d tried on. And why shouldn’t she? For humans, marrying was the epitome of their life. At least, so I’d heard.
They didn’t even know what it meant to be mated. An unbreakable connection that surpassed one lifetime. A bond forged by Fate herself. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t be happy for my friend. She couldn’t miss what she’d never had.
My dreams had continued since that first one about my mother’s death. But recently, they’d dealt with my future. Coming soon. I’d done everything I could to postpone it, and with all the education I’d gained only made myself more valuable. Ruining any chance of having the slightest input in my life going forward.
On my twenty-fifth birthday, when I presented as an omega, I’d be handed off to the highest bidder. And their qualities as a mate would not come into play. I yawned, exhausted. Fearing sleep, I’d taken to drinking coffee and eating sweets late into the evening. Being tired was far preferable to dreams about being stolen in the night and spending my twenty-fifth birthday in chains. If I had my choice, I’d never sleep again.
Chapter Two
Tyrone
After a drawn-out goodbye, I got in the truck and headed for the pack I’d dreamt about. It was strange, following images and commandments from my head, but those night visions hadn’t let me down yet.
I thought helping others was the point of them, but now my dreams were for me.
Following them felt right. It always had.
I drove until I recognized a broken sign on the side of the highway. Wooden. Painted red. Letters faded. The wood split down the middle like a strike of lightning had targeted it. It hung from one rusty nail and readFathom.
Thank goodness my dream included the name of the county they lived in, and it wasn’t something like Lincoln County.
I could’ve searched state by state and never found them.
Plus, the dream made me think they were close. Only a few hours’ drive. And this sign proved it right.
