Chapter 1 A Hostile Welcome

• Olivia's POV
• The initial blow was never struck by a stranger. It was always by those who were supposed to care.
• When my mother packed my bags a year ago and told me that I would be staying with my father, I thought it was temporary. A couple of weeks, perhaps. A month at the most. Weeks became months, and months became a whole year of silence on her part, as though she had forgotten me by sending me away.
• I was sixteen. I did not want to leave my pack, my school, or the only friends who made me feel like I belonged. Our Alpha had passed away unexpectedly, and his haughty nineteen-year-old son had replaced him with the sort of pride that made every decision worse. My mother told me that things were not stable. Her remedy was to send me to my father in another pack.
• By this time he was remarried. My stepmother, Annabelle, was the kind of woman who wore diamonds to breakfast and despised the sound of laughter that was not her own. As soon as I entered their door, she gazed at me as though I were a spot she could not get out.
• "You will get a job," she said, crossing her arms. We are not paying for your food, your phone, or your clothes. You want something, you work for it.”
• My father did not dispute. He simply put an arm around her waist and nodded, as though I was not present. After that, I never expected anything of either of them.
• “Seriously? Just once, skip. We are going to the swimming hole.”
• I worked A greasy little diner on the outskirts of town became my second home. The uniform was itchy, the hours were long, but the tips were good—mostly because everybody in town felt sorry for me. I did not mind. Pity still paid the bills.
• The secret was to keep busy enough not to think. School, work, training. Anything that kept me out of that house.
• “Hey, Olivia!” Harvey phoned me one afternoon when I was leaving school with my backpack on my shoulder.
• I turned to see him jogging up, all dishevelled blond hair and easy smiles. He was well-meaning, but he always meant too much.
• "What are you doing now?" he asked.
• “Work.”
• I smirked. The swimming hole was just a muddy creek where half the teenagers in the pack went to make out. I knew what Harvey was hoping.
• “Can’t. I have to use the money.”
• His smile faded away. "Your stepmother is still not paying anything?”
• "She is not changing. She would probably assist me in the packing when I finally move out.”
• He laughed, but there was pity in his eyes. "I will see you tomorrow, then."
• “Yeah. Tomorrow.”
• ***
• I walked the three blocks to the diner, tied on my apron, and stepped into the clatter of plates and chatter of voices. Work was pretending. Smiling to get tips but not so much as to attract trouble.
• "Want me to kick those guys out?" "Zeke," my manager whispered as I slipped an order into the kitchen.
• "They are all right," I said, "but one of the men had just whistled at me."
• "Olivia," Zeke cautioned, in a low tone. "One of them touched your ass.”
• I managed a smirk. "It is a good ass, I suppose."
• He groaned, but I could see the worry in his eyes. "Just say the word.”
• I didn’t. I had learned to take care of myself. When one of the men put his leg in my way and leered as he tried to get his hands on my waist, I pushed his hands away and smiled sweetly.
• "This is not the time or place," I said to him.
• "Then tell me where," he said, bending nearer.
• "Ever tried hell? They are saving you a seat, I hear.”
• His friends laughed until Zeke cast his shadow across the table. If you don't want to eat your food through any other place other than your mouth, you will release her. Now.
• The man moved his leg, and I passed by, head up, feigning that my heart was not beating fast. Pretending that I was not weary of being the prey of a world of wolves.
• ***
• By the end of the day, I was exhausted. I put my bag over my shoulder and walked out into the night, my sneakers making a whispering sound against the pavement. A block later, the neon lights of the gym came into view, and my chest loosened.
• Ralph was laying out mats inside. Six-foot-five, muscles of stone, a warrior tattoo curling across his back. He glanced up, smiled, and the world tilted a heartbeat.
• "You made it," he said.
• “Just barely. The restaurant made me late.”
• He looked at me, as he always did, seeing things that no one else bothered to notice. "Do you even have time to do your homework?”
• "I find time.”
• "You never want to go home, do you?"
• "Would you?"
• He winced. "Is she still pretending like you don't exist?
• I stooped to unroll another mat, disregarding the pain in my chest. Training, training.
• We did. Two hours of sparring until I was covered in sweat and my body was sore. The others drifted away, and I was left alone with him.
• "I thought they would never go away," he said, and locked the door.
• I leaped into his arms before I could think, and his mouth was on mine, hungry and sure. The world was lost to him. Here, I was important to him. Here, there was a person who needed me.
• We fell on the mats, laughing and kissing breathlessly. I forgot all the rest of my problems.
• When we finished, I dressed, my heart still pounding. Ralph insisted on driving me, but I made him drop me at the corner. I did not want anybody to see.
• It was cool in the night air as I walked the last block to the small cabin I was forced to call home. The porch light was out. The house was quiet. I opened the door--
• and a fist burst against my face.
• Pain burned white, my body slamming into the wall with a crack. The world turned. I gasped as darkness fell.