“You can’t go with them,” my mom cried. Her face crumpled as if she was in pain, and she probably was. She had raised me for a choosing ceremony I didn’t get chosen for.

I held her against me, patting her hair down, my bag open on my bed, half-packed. I had been given fifteen minutes before I was leaving with the alphas.

My stomach stirred in excitement; I was looking forward to seeing something other than the scorn of the village.

My mother didn’t understand though, she thought I was normal, she had always treated me the same, but it was her own denial.

I wasn’t.

I pulled her...