PROLOGUE
“We’re here.” My mom’s voice grates through the darkness of the car interior. She stamps on the brake and the car stops with an awful jolt that goes right through me.
The seatbelt crushes my boobs and adrenaline booms in my chest. “Where’s here?” I squint through the windshield, but all I can see is midnight sky and dark, dark road.
“I’ve taken you as far as I can. Get out of the car, Vani.”
“Please, mom—” I falter. The woman sitting beside me looks nothing like my mom. She’s wearing a baseball cap, tugged down over her pale face. Her waist-length hair, which she usually wears loose like all the women on the territory, is twisted into a braid and tucked down the back of her jacket. She’s also wearing pants for the first time in my life.
“Please, what?” Her jaw is set, lips drawn into a grim line.
Stay with me? Pull out a secret wad of cash you’ve been squirrelling away for years and take us both someplace safe?
I lean over, try to hug her, but she winces and pulls away. Nothing new there. She’s never given me a scrap of affection.
“Just go. Get out of here.”
My throat feels like it’s closing up. “C-can you give me our address?” I choke out. Twenty-two years old and I don’t know my own address. I don’t know a lot about the outside world, but I understand that’s damn weird.
“You won’t need it. Just go.”
I stare into the darkness and a pathetic whimper breaks from my throat.
“Vani, I need to get back, goddamnit!” Her eyes are wild, teeth bared.
My heart lurches. She’s right. Every second I delay, I put her in more danger. I’m lucky she brought me this far. “Okay, I’m going.” My hand goes to my belt and I unfasten it with trembling fingers.
Inside the car, I cling to the vestiges of my own world—my mom. That familiar, slightly bitter smell of hers. The smell of sadness and disappointment, I used to think. Outside is the raw unknown. If I open the car door, I’ll slash that world right open. And the thought of what might lie within it paralyzes me with terror.
“You’ll be fine, Vani. You’re tougher than me.” Her voice is a shade softer, but then it hardens again.
“Just don’t give your heart away to a man.”
A wave of nausea washes through me. This was what brought me here. My failed mating.
The humiliation.
The ugly consequences spilling out from it. This manic night-time drive through miles upon miles of deserted roads, to some place my mom claimed had been passed on to her by the angels.
“Mom—” My throat closes convulsively. I want to tell her I’ll miss her. I’ll think of her. But she’s banned me from uttering words of affection. Pretty words don’t belong in pack law, she’s told me, ever since I was a tiny pup.
“I’m not your mother.”
“W-what do you mean?” I choke out, and another whimper breaks loose. I know it will disgust her, but I can’t hold it back.
“I just raised you. That’s all.” Her voice is savage now. Vengeful.
I gasp, a shard of pure agony stabbing me in the heart. If a tree crashed through the windscreen right now and a branch pierced my chest, I don’t think it could’ve hurt any more than this.
She leans across and I think she’s going to hug me after all, but she yanks the lever and shoves the door open. The rusted, warped door creaks loudly. Cold air blows in, bringing a night full of unfamiliar smells.
Violent shivering takes hold of me, but I haul myself out in a daze, those brutal words hijacking every rational thought. I pull my backpack onto my shoulders, and fumble with the door until I succeed at closing it.
Immediately, my mom hits the gas and hauls the car into a U-turn. Her face is tight and pallid against the darkened interior, and she doesn’t acknowledge me as she squeals off.
Out of my life for good.
I watch the car’s red taillights until the night swallows them up, along with everything I know.