Chapter 1

Charlotte pov

"Nineteen and still no wolf. Somebody check if she's even a shifter!"

Laughter exploded across the mess hall, the kind that bounced off the log rafters and made every head at the long tables turn to see who was getting torn apart this morning. I already knew. It was always me.

I kept my eyes on my plate and kept eating, cutting my eggs into smaller and smaller pieces I wasn't actually going to finish.

"Ignore them," Mom whispered, sliding closer on the bench.

"I am."

"You're holding that fork like a weapon."

I set it down. My knuckles had gone white around the handle without me noticing.

Every wolf in Silver Falls got theirs at sixteen. That was three years past for everyone at these tables. Nothing had ever come for me. No pull, no ache, no presence waiting under my skin, just me, human all the way through, forced to sit here every single morning while people who used to be my friends turned my life into a punchline over powdered eggs and burnt coffee.

"Maybe it skipped her," a girl at the next table offered, not bothering to lower her voice.

"Or maybe the Goddess took one look and passed," someone else added, and the laughter came again, sharper this time.

I told myself, the way I told myself every morning, that it didn't matter.

The door slammed open.

Beta Kessler's mate stood in the frame, holding an envelope out in front of her like it might bite her hand off.

"For the Hale girl," she announced. "Hand-delivered. Some man in black, gone before I could ask his name."

The whole hall went silent.

Black envelope. Wax seal. A crest I'd only ever seen in history books.

Mooncrest Academy.

"That's not for her," a voice scoffed. "Mooncrest doesn't take wolfless girls."

I stood up and crossed the room anyway.

"Charlotte." Mom's chair screeched against the floor.

I took the envelope and broke the seal before anyone could stop me.

Charlotte Hale. You have been selected to attend Mooncrest Academy. Transport arrives at sundown. This invitation is non-negotiable.

I read it twice. It didn't change.

"They don't take nobodies," someone muttered behind me.

"Mom." I turned to show her. "Look at this."

She didn't take it. She didn't even look at the letter. She was staring at the crest like she recognized it, like it had teeth, and every ounce of color had drained straight out of her face.

"You already knew about this," I breathed.

"Give it to me." Her voice cracked down the middle.

"Mom."

"Give it to me. Now."

I pulled it back instead. "Why do you look like you're about to be sick?"

"Because I am." Her hands shook so hard the silverware rattled against the table. "You are not getting in that car."

"It's Mooncrest."

"I don't care what it is. You are not going."

Nineteen years of being told I was nothing finally cracked something loose in my chest.

"Everyone in this pack has spent my whole life telling me I'm worthless," I snapped. "And the one time something actually wants me, you want me to say no?"

"I want to keep you alive."

The room went dead silent. Even the wolves who'd been laughing a minute ago had gone still, forks halfway to their mouths.

"What does that mean?" My voice came out smaller than I wanted it to.

"It means there are things about you I have never explained, and I promised myself I never would, and I am not ready to break that promise standing in the middle of this dining hall."

She grabbed my wrist, hard, right over the spot that had always run a little colder than the rest of me. For one second, her eyes weren't scared anymore. They were furious.

Then she let go like it burned her.

"Go pack," she whispered. "Please. We'll talk at home."

I went. I kept the letter.

Sundown came fast.

I sat on my bed with the envelope in my lap, thumb tracing the crest, and my wrist started to burn. Not sore, not itchy. Burning, like something under my skin had been asleep for three years and had just remembered how to move.

I shoved my sleeve back. Nothing there. No mark. No proof of anything.

Headlights swept across the window. A black car sat idling in the driveway, engine humming low, patient, like it already knew I'd come.

Mom appeared in my doorway. She'd stopped arguing. That scared me more than the arguing ever had.

"You're really doing this."

"I have to know why they want me." I zipped my bag shut. "Nobody's ever wanted me before. Not like this."

She crossed the room and pressed something cold into my palm, a silver locket, tarnished at the edges, the chain worn soft from years of handling.

"Never take this off," she instructed. "Whatever they tell you there. Whatever you find out about yourself. Keep it on."

"You're scaring me."

"Good. Stay scared. Scared keeps you careful."

She pulled me into a hug so tight it hurt, and when she finally let go, her eyes were wet and wrecked.

"I love you," she breathed. "I have loved you since the very first day I found you."

Found me. Not had me.

I didn't have time to ask what that meant. The horn sounded from the driveway, and I was already out of time.

I climbed in without looking back.

If I'd looked back, I might not have gone at all.

The car pulled onto the highway, and Silver Falls disappeared behind us.

I held the locket in my fist and told myself I wasn't scared. That was a lie.

Then a voice arrived, not from the driver, not from outside the car at all, but curling through the inside of my skull like it had always lived there.

Wake up, little Luna.

I sat bolt upright, seatbelt catching hard against my chest. "Did you say that?"

The driver didn't even glance in the mirror. "No, miss."

My wrist flared white hot for one heartbeat, then went cold again, like it had never happened at all.

I looked down at the locket clenched in my fist, then out at the dark road ahead, and understood, for the first time in three years, that something inside me had just opened one eye.

And it was waiting to see what I'd do next.