ISLA'S POV
The glass shatters before I can catch it.
I watch it explode across the kitchen floor in slow motion—tiny pieces spreading everywhere like a crystal spiderweb. My heart drops into my stomach. Not because of the broken glass. But because of what comes next.
"Seriously, Isla?" My sister Celeste's voice cuts through the air like a knife. "Can't you do anything right?"
I drop to my knees immediately, grabbing the bigger pieces with my bare hands. Don't make excuses. Don't argue. Just clean it up and disappear. That's the only rule that keeps me safe in this house.
"She's completely useless," my mother says from the dining room. She doesn't even look up from her phone. "Seventeen years old and still can't wash dishes without breaking things."
My father grunts in agreement. Beta Thomas Grey—that's what everyone in the Blackwood Pack calls him. Important. Respected. Powerful. To me? He's just the man who walks past me like I'm furniture. Like I don't exist.
I focus on picking up glass pieces, ignoring the small cut on my thumb. It doesn't matter. Nothing about me matters to them.
"Rowan's coming over in five minutes," Celeste announces, dumping a stack of dirty plates into the sink right where I'm working. Soapy water splashes onto my already-wet shirt. "Make sure you're done before he gets here. He doesn't need to see... this."
This. That's me. The family embarrassment. The daughter without a wolf.
Most werewolves shift for the first time between ages thirteen and sixteen. It's the biggest moment in a young wolf's life—when you finally meet your wolf, your other half, the part of you that makes you complete.
I'm seventeen. Almost eighteen. Still nothing.
The pack has a word for wolves like me: defective.
I finish cleaning the glass and start scrubbing dishes faster. My hands are red from the hot water, but I don't slow down. If I can just finish before Rowan arrives, maybe I can escape to my room. Maybe I can avoid tonight's humiliation.
But I'm never that lucky.
The front door opens. I hear his voice before I see him—deep and confident, the kind of voice that makes people listen.
"Good evening, Beta Thomas. Mrs. Grey." Rowan Blackwood walks into the house like he owns it. Because in a way, he does. His father is our Alpha. In two months, Rowan will officially become Alpha too. Everyone in the pack already treats him like royalty.
Especially my sister.
"Rowan!" Celeste practically runs to him, her long blonde hair bouncing perfectly. Of course it is. Everything about Celeste is perfect. Beautiful. Popular. Engaged to the future Alpha. And she has a wolf—a gorgeous golden-brown one that emerged right on schedule when she turned fourteen.
I keep washing dishes, hoping I can stay invisible. It's my special talent.
"Celeste, you look beautiful," Rowan says. I hear them kiss—that gross smacking sound that makes my stomach turn.
"Isla, come say hello to your future Alpha," my father commands.
No. Please, no.
I dry my hands on a towel and turn around slowly. Rowan Blackwood stands in our living room, one arm around my sister's waist. He's tall—over six feet. Dark hair. Silver eyes that seem to see everything. Handsome in that annoying way that makes girls stupid.
Those same silver eyes land on me. There's no warmth in them. Just cold amusement.
"Isla." He says my name like it's a joke. "Still hiding in the kitchen?"
"She's cleaning up her mess," Celeste says, wrinkling her nose. "She broke another glass."
Rowan's smirk makes something inside me curl up and die. "Still useless, I see."
Just three more days, I tell myself. Three more days and you're free.
Because here's what they don't know: I turn eighteen at midnight tonight. And in exactly three days, I have a bus ticket to the city. I've saved $3,000 from doing odd jobs around the pack territory—cleaning houses, running errands, basically anything people will pay the "wolfless Grey girl" to do.
I have fake IDs with a new name. A cheap apartment already rented. A plan.
All I have to do is survive three more days.
"I should get back to cleaning," I mumble, turning back to the sink.
"Actually," my mother says, "you should go to your room. We're having an adult conversation."
Translation: You're embarrassing us in front of important people. Disappear.
I don't argue. I never do. I just dry my hands and walk toward the stairs, keeping my head down.
As I pass Rowan, he doesn't move. I have to squeeze between him and the wall. For just a second, his arm brushes mine.
A weird tingle runs down my spine. I ignore it.
"Good night, Isla," Rowan says behind me. His voice sounds strange. Almost... confused?
I don't look back. I just climb the stairs to my attic bedroom—the smallest room in the house, the one they gave me because "the wolfless girl doesn't need much space."
Inside, I lock the door and lean against it, breathing hard. My hands are shaking.
Three more days. You can do this.
I look at my phone: 11:47 PM. Thirteen minutes until I'm officially eighteen. Thirteen minutes until I'm legally an adult and can leave this pack without needing my father's permission.
I lie down on my bed—just a mattress on the floor—and stare at the ceiling, counting down.
Eleven fifty-five.
Eleven fifty-eight.
Eleven fifty-nine.
Midnight.
The pain hits me like lightning.
I bite down on my pillow to keep from screaming. My bones feel like they're breaking. My skin feels like it's tearing. Fire races through every nerve in my body.
What's happening?
And then I understand.
I'm shifting.
After years of being called defective, after years of being told I'd never have a wolf, it's finally happening.
The transformation feels like it takes hours, but it's probably only minutes. When the pain finally stops, I'm lying on my floor, panting.
Except I'm not human anymore.
I lift my paw—my paw—and stare at it. Silver fur. Sleek and shining even in the dim light of my room.
I have a wolf. I actually have a wolf.
Joy floods through me so intense I want to howl. I'm not defective. I'm not broken. I'm—
Another feeling hits me. Stronger than the joy. Stronger than anything I've ever felt.
A pull. A need. A burning certainty that someone I'm meant to find is nearby.
My wolf knows what this is even if I don't want to believe it.
Mate.
The mate bond. The mystical connection that links two wolves together forever. The most important bond a werewolf can have.
No. No, this can't be happening. Not now. Not when I'm three days away from freedom.
But my wolf doesn't care about my plans. She's already moving, padding toward my bedroom door. I try to fight it, but the pull is too strong.
I shift back to human form—painful but necessary. I throw on clothes with shaking hands. The pull gets stronger with every second.
Downstairs. He's downstairs.
My mate is in this house right now.
Part of me wants to lock my door and hide. But the mate bond doesn't give me a choice. It's like a rope around my heart, dragging me forward.
I open my door quietly. Voices float up from the living room. My family. And Rowan.
No, my brain whispers. Please, not him. Anyone but him.
But my wolf knows the truth. My heart knows the truth.
I walk down the stairs like I'm in a dream. Or a nightmare. Each step feels heavy.
The living room comes into view. My parents are sitting on the couch. Celeste is curled up next to Rowan, his arm around her shoulders.
They all turn to look at me.
"Isla?" my mother says, confused. "What are you doing up?"
I can't speak. My eyes are locked on Rowan.
His silver eyes meet mine, and the mate bond snaps into place like a rubber band pulled too tight.
I feel it. The connection. The recognition. The absolute certainty that this person is mine and I am his.
Rowan's face goes completely white. He stands up so fast that Celeste almost falls over.
"What's wrong?" Celeste asks.
Rowan doesn't answer. He's staring at me like he's seen a ghost. "You... you shifted."
My father stands up too. "What? Isla shifted?"
"I can feel her wolf," Rowan says, his voice strange and tight. "She's..."
He doesn't finish the sentence. He doesn't have to.
Everyone in the room suddenly understands what's happening.
"No," Celeste whispers. "No, that's impossible."
My mother gasps. My father looks furious.
Rowan takes a step toward me. The mate bond pulls tighter. My wolf is screaming at me to run to him, to accept this, to complete the bond.
But I'm not just a wolf. I'm also Isla Grey. The girl he's tortured for years. The girl he called useless just an hour ago. The girl whose life he helped destroy.
And I'm done being a victim.
I meet Rowan's eyes and say the words I never thought I'd be brave enough to say.
"I, Isla Grey, reject you, Rowan Blackwood, as my mate."
The room explodes.
My father shouts. My mother gasps. Celeste screams.
But I only see Rowan.
His face twists in pain. He grabs his chest like I've stabbed him. The mate bond tears between us—an agonizing ripping sensation that makes my knees weak.
"Isla, wait—" he starts.
I don't wait. I turn and run back upstairs, my heart pounding.
Behind me, I hear chaos. Shouting. Crying. Someone following me.
I slam my bedroom door and lock it. Grab my pre-packed bag from under my bed. Three days early doesn't matter anymore.
I'm leaving. Tonight.
I yank open my window and look down at the two-story drop. My wolf can handle it.
"ISLA!" Rowan's voice roars from outside my door. He pounds on it. "ISLA, OPEN THIS DOOR!"
I don't answer. I throw my bag out the window and climb onto the ledge.
"Please," Rowan says, and his voice cracks. "Please, just let me explain. Let me—"
I jump.