“What about family?”
“Parents are gone. No siblings. The pack is my family now.”
Fern goes quiet, seemingly waiting for me to elaborate. When I don’t, she replies, “I’m sorry. About your parents.”
“It was a long time ago.”
She nods, and I can see her filing that information away. Then she surprises me by offering something in return.
“I was engaged once,” she admits. “It didn’t end well.”
“The ex you’re running from?”
“Yeah.” She picks at a thread on her sweater. “Robbie. We were together for three years. Engaged for six months before I realized what he really was.”
I want to reach out and touch her, offer some kind of comfort. But I sense that would be the wrong move right now. Instead, I keep my voice gentle. “You’re safe here, Fern. Whatever it takes, we’ll make sure he can’t hurt you.”
She gives me a small, tired smile. “You keep saying that.”
“Because I mean it.”
We stay by the stream until the afternoon starts fading into evening. When she mentions needing to head back, I walk her to the edge of town before peeling off toward my own cabin. I need to shower and change before the ceremony tonight.
The lottery. My stomach clenches at the thought.
Hours later, I’m standing in the Hollow with the rest of the pack, torchlight flickering against the ancient trunk of the Mother Tree. The air is saturated with the energy of dozens of wolves gathered for one of our oldest traditions. Nic and Luna stand on the raised platform with Elder Amelia beside them, with the ceremonial bowl cradled in her weathered hands.
The eligible females are arranged in the innermost circle, and I’m positioned in the outer ring with the other unmated males, trying to keep my breathing steady.
This is it. In a few minutes, my life will change forever.
I look around at the faces of the eligible females. Some I’ve known since childhood. Others came to us from the Cheslem pack after its fall. A few catch my eye and offer small smiles, hopeful or nervous. I look away, not wanting to encourage anyone when I have no idea who the magic will choose.
My wolf paces restlessly beneath my skin, unusually agitated. He’s been this way all day, ever since my walk with Fern. I tell myself it’s just nerves about the ceremony, nothing more.
Elder Amelia raises her hands for silence, and the crowd goes quiet. The ceremonial bowl rests in her weathered palms, firelight glinting off its polished wooden surface. She closes her eyes and begins the traditional blessing, words so old their original meaning has been lost to time. The pack watches in reverent silence.
“Tonight, we honor the bond between wolf and mate,” Amelia intones. “Tonight, the spirits guide our hands and reveal what has always been destined.”
She reaches into the bowl and stirs through the folded slips of paper with her fingers. Each slip bears the name of an eligible female—unmated women between twenty and thirty who could become my match. Whoever Amelia draws will be bound to me, and I to her. That’s how the lottery works. One name, one chance, one fate sealed by ancient magic that supposedly knows better than we do.
My heart pounds so hard I can feel it in my throat.
Then I hear a twig snap behind me.
I turn, and my heart nearly stops.
Fern is standing at the edge of the clearing, her face pale in the torchlight. She’s clearly been hiking—there are leaves in her hair and dirt on her boots—and she’s staring at the gathered pack with an expression of complete bewilderment.
Before I can move toward her, Elder Amelia’s voice cuts through the night.
“Wait.”
The entire pack turns to look. Amelia is staring at Fern with wide eyes, her hand pressed to her chest.
“This is unprecedented,” she announces with her voice trembling with something that sounds almost like awe. “A human, arriving at this exact moment, at this sacred ceremony. The spirits have sent us a sign.”
My blood runs cold.
