Ava
Prologue
Ava
“Daughter, I believe you are special. Your wolf is crystal white, like in ancient times,” my father says, reaching out a hand to me. It’s like his mantra. He says it every time.
Ava Hansley is my name. I am a descendant of the renowned and revered Blood Red Pack of werewolves. My parents, Richard and Kerah Hansley, are our pack’s Alpha and Luna.
My wolf is a unique breed from the ancient clan of werewolves. They are thought to be rarer than actual Alphas because of the high price you pay to achieve this status and the responsibilities that come with having a white wolf.
Amanda is my powerful white wolf. She has beautiful, golden eyes. She is one of the first white wolves to be seen since our people’s origins.
“Shifting too early,” Mom mumbles. “I’m not sure why the moon goddess allowed this. It will cause a lot of problems. If our enemies learn about her wolf, they will attack us. I’m worried about what will happen to us and our pack members.”
When I met my wolf at age twelve, Mom panicked and went into a coma for days. That’s how much she dreads my early shift.
Werewolves change at the age of fourteen, but they meet their partner at the age of eighteen. I transformed quickly at the age of twelve, unlike the other werewolves. Shifting early has never happened to anyone. But because of my type of wolf, I shifted early. Since then, Mom has never been the same. She always thinks some kind of misfortune will hit us someday because of my wolf.
“You don’t have to be scared, Kerah,” my father mumbles. “We will protect her as well as our people. You must have faith in me.”
“I’m terrified, Richard. Her wolf is powerful, and rogues will seek her power. I don’t want my little girl to go through hell,” she responds. “I’m scared.”
“You don’t believe I could protect our little girl?” He inquires. “I will protect her, even if it means dying for her.”
“We will both protect her,” she replies with a smile.
He takes her hand in his and softly squeezes it. He laughs. “Yes, that’s exactly what I want to hear.”
It is a blessing to have loving parents. My parents are very special to me. But sometimes they are extreme. I’m sixteen now, but I never leave the house alone. I’m always chaperoned.
“You don’t have to protect me,” I say flatly. “I shall be the one to protect you. Nothing will happen to our pack. And nothing will happen to me either.”
“Sure. Nothing will ever happen to you. Nothing,” my father says, hugging me tightly. I hear the fear in his voice, and I know he’s saying the words to comfort himself.
I grab him tightly, trying to assure him that he has nothing to worry about. Mother joins in the hug, silently sobbing.
“I’ll be fine,” I whisper, holding them both closely.
