Bound by Words

They forced me to the M@ting Ball to be cl@imed as some Alpha's obedient little wife, not knowing they just locked a hidden, pure-blooded Alpha female in a room full of prey. ******************** Bl0od ran warm over my mouth, and my brother was still smirking. Sebastian Scott. Future Beta. Golden son. Professional pain in my a$$. He drove his elbow into my face hard enough to break my nose, then had the nerve to tell me to watch my language. So I h!t him back. Not once. Not clean. Not pretty. I drove my fist into his ribs, grabbed his shirt, and used his own weight against him until his back slammed into the basement wall and he slid down onto the mat, breath punched out of him. He laughed. Actually laughed. That was the worst part. Because in my family, v!olence is affection if you do it with a grin. Behind my eyes, Nova stirred, stretching awake inside me like a bl@de sliding free. Proud. Hungry. D0minant. My wolf. My secret. My problem. Then my father stepped into the doorway, took one look at the Bl0od on my face and Seb on the floor, and ordered us outside to shift and heal before my mother got home. Cold air. Pine. Dirt under my boots. The treeline watching like it knew something I didn’t. The second I shifted, relief tore through me. Bones cracked. Skin burned. Nova rose. And every time she takes over, I feel it harder—that ugly truth I keep trying to outrun. I’m not built to bow. Not to a male. Not to a pack. Not to fate. Which is exactly why my mother became my real enemy the moment I walked downstairs after my shower. She had magazines spread across the table like she was preparing for war. My war. The Glacier pack in Wyoming was hosting a M@ting ball on the next full moon, and apparently my future had already been decided without me. Dress. Hair. Makeup. Smile. Stand there while strangers $cent the air around me and wonder if they can cl@imed me. I said no. I told her I wanted college. Travel. A life that didn’t end with a b0nd carved into my ribs by a goddess who never asked permission. She looked me in the eye and threatened the one thing she knew would hurt me most. My training. One more refusal, and she’d have my father shut it down. That landed harder than Seb’s elbow ever could. Training is where I breathe. Training is where the noise stops. Training is the only place no one asks me to be softer, prettier, quieter, easier to control. She knew that. She used it anyway. That’s what betrayal looks like when it comes from family. It doesn’t scream. It smiles across a coffee table and flips to another dress. My little sister bounced beside her, thrilled at the idea of lipstick and lace while I sat there feeling the walls close in. They called it tradition. I called it a cage. And the sickest part? I know exactly what happens at those balls. Unmated wolves from every direction show up dressed in silk and power, pretending it’s romance when it’s really territory, bloodlines, alliances, and instinct. If your wolf recognizes your fated mate, that’s it. No slow burn. No choice. No “let me think about it.” Just fate tightening around your throat. Rejecting a fated mate is almost unheard of. Not because we’re forbidden. Because the b0nd punishes you for trying to leave. So I smiled with my teeth clenched, let them pick fabric I’d never choose, and went to sleep tasting rebellion. The next morning I dressed like myself on purpose. Boots. Jeans. Leather jacket. No apology. If they wanted a polished little Luna, they were going to be disappointed. Branson High looked normal from the outside. Lockers. Cliques. Cafeteria noise. Human teachers pretending teenagers were the biggest problem in the building. But under that? Wolves from rival packs. Vampires with de@d eyes and perfect teeth. Witches pretending geometry was the only thing they knew how to draw. And waiting near the entrance, polished like a threat in lip gloss, was Vanessa. She was wrapped around Damien like she was making a public cl@im. That one almost made me laugh. Damien and I were never serious. A little flirting. A little sparring. Nothing worth bleeding over. But Vanessa didn’t do things because they mattered. She did them because she wanted an audience. And when her eyes met mine, I smelled it instantly beneath her expensive perfume. Fear. Resentment. Obsession. She still remembered the day she pushed too far. One day. That’s all it took. She tried bullying me years ago, so I shoved her into a locker, broke her nose, and quietly explained what would happen if she ever touched me again. Now she keeps her hands clean and sends other people instead. Especially after Elena. Sweet, quiet Elena, with witch blood in her veins and just enough wolf in her $cent for people like Vanessa to think she’s an easy target. She isn’t. Not anymore. Not while I’m watching. By the time I found Brianna and Elena in the hall, Nova was already prowling under my skin. Brianna clocked Vanessa’s little circle instantly. Elena pretended not to notice, which told me everything. Vanessa had been at it again. Whispers. Looks. Small humiliations that pile up until they crush your lungs. That kind of cruelty makes me mean. I warned Vanessa once. If she touched my friends again, I’d stop being polite. She believed me. But belief doesn’t always stop people like her. Sometimes it just makes them sneakier. By lunch, my nerves were scraped raw. Then a pair of strong arms locked around my waist from behind and hauled me off the floor. I reacted before I thought. Elbow back. Twist. $narl. Lucas laughed and set me down like I weighed nothing. My cousin. My chaos twin. One of the only males in my life who never tried to measure me, tame me, or turn me into some fantasy version of femininity. With Luc, I’m just Cass. Not daughter. Not future bargaining chip. Not d0minant she-wolf hiding Alpha $cent under her skin. Just me. And for one stupid second, standing there with Brianna grinning and Luc teasing and Elena finally smiling, I remembered what easy felt like. Then Brianna ruined it. Friday, she said. She and Elena had already made plans. A night in the city. A bar. No excuses. She winked and told me maybe I’d finally meet someone tempting enough to wreck my self-control. I told her to shut up before a wolf overheard. She laughed harder. I should have said no. I wanted to say no. Because every “fun” plan lately feels like a setup. Every dress feels like bait. Every full moon feels like a countdown. But something inside me—maybe anger, maybe curiosity, maybe the wild stupid part of me that still believes I can outrun whatever’s coming—said yes. And that should have been the harmless part. A broken nose heals. A family fight fades. A bitch at school can be handled. But a forced M@ting ball? A mother willing to trade my freedom for obedience? A wolf inside me that refuses to $ubmit? That’s the kind of storm that doesn’t pass. It builds. And with the full moon getting closer, Nova has started pacing harder in my head, like she can smell something coming. Something dangerous. Something male. Something inevitable. I’ve spent my whole life swearing no one would ever force me to kneel. So tell me why, with one dance, one b0nd, and one night out still ahead of me… it suddenly feels like fate is already hunting me.