I burst into our quaint two-story house, the familiar scent of cedar, sage, and my family greeting me as I make my way through the house searching. A creak and a round of giggles draws my attention upstairs.  

I make my way up the creaking wooden stairs to the master bedroom, the door ajar and voices floating from it. Inside, the room is a flurry of activity.  

My mother, a woman of impeccable taste yet firm manners, is helping my younger sisters, Bonnie and Angie, choose their dresses for the festival tonight. Fabric and ribbons litter the floor, a cascade of colors that reflects the chaos of their giggling gossip. 

“Finally, the birthday girl returns,” Bonnie teases as I step into the room, her eyes twinkling mischievously. 

“And she looks like she outran a bear,” Angie adds, holding up a dress against herself, checking her reflection in the mirror. “What’s the rush, Sin?” 

I roll my eyes, shoving a pile of dresses to flop down onto the bed. “Went on the hunt, but…” I wiggle my eyebrows at them, the conspiratorial tone drawing their attentions, “I had to run home to escape the madness of Dad dealing with Landon and Bryson,” I say, the words growing heavier with implied drama. 

“The Alpha ‘contenders’?” Angie gasps, her interest piqued as she turns away from the mirror. “What did they do this time?” 

“Bet they came asking for her hand in marriage, like some old-fashioned knights,” Mom chimes in without missing a beat, her tone laced with excitement as she expertly ties a ribbon in Ava’s hair. “Oh, I bet that was so romantic, Sin. So, which one did you choose?” 

“Come on, Mom, it’s not the Dark Ages!” I retort, throwing my hands up in exasperation. “They offended Dad anyway, hence the ‘dealing with’ I spoke of.” 

“Oh, I bet your father just wanted to talk to them man to man. Can’t have that talk with you around, can he, Sin?” She tosses a knowing yet indignant look over her shoulder at me. 

“Oh, no, Mom, you didn’t see Da–” 

“Mom! When I turn eighteen, will I be able to get married?” Angie interrupts, bouncing on the balls of her feet.  

Mom grabs her by the shoulder, stilling her movements firmly. “Keep jumping and I’ll tug your hair out. Stop that.” She chastises gently. “You’re only fourteen, there’s still time to talk about that.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Angie grumbles, her dark eyes meeting mine in the mirror, accompanied by a quick eye roll. 

“I saw that!” Mom scolds, though the laughter in her voice is unmistakable. 

“Anyway, Sin!” Bonnie exclaims as she leaps onto the bed, her head narrowly missing mine. She hovers over me, locking eyes with an eager grin that’s all too reminiscent of Dad’s. “So, which one did you choose?” she probes eagerly. 

“I didn’t. Dad sent me away before that could happen,” I wink at her. 

“Well,” Bonnie pouts at my evasion, “which one do you want to choose?” 

I hum but stay silent. Angie, now free from Mom’s firm hand, playfully tosses a barrette at Bonnie. 

“Your turn!” she declares, grabbing a dress from the pile I had earlier pushed aside. She begins shimmying her slim frame into it. 

Angie and Bonnie both take after Mom more, their eyes reflecting our oriental heritage in their almond shape and dark hue. Their straight, dark brown hair, naturally a bit wavy but is routinely straightened at the salon, cascades over their shoulders like a curtain. They’re both thin and tall, like her, but they have Dad’s lips and his natural bronze tan.  

 “You’ll need to choose one tonight,” Mom states matter-of-factly, a tone that irks me as if she’s ready to decide for me if I don’t hurry up. 

“I don’t want to though, I’m not ready to get married yet. Plus, the legal age is eighteen, Mom, and I’m only turning seventeen,” I counter quickly. 

“You’ll get married, Sinsoel,” she replies firmly. My sisters lock eyes with each other in the mirror, a burst of giggles escaping them, a silent joke shared. “I prefer Landon of the two; I’d pick him if I were you, he has a better pedigree and he’ll give you strong pups. Plus, you’ll only be engaged until you turn eighteen, then you’ll get married,” she concludes, as if laying down the law. A proverbial gavel seems to fall, and I’m astounded she’s made up her mind on my behalf. I mean, I shouldn’t be surprised, she often does this, but something this significant is usually left for us to decide. 

“Landon only looks pretty; there’s nothing between his ears.” Angie chimes in, her voice dripping with dismissive amusement. 

“Bryson isn’t too bad to look at either, sis. I’ve heard the older girls talk about him. Kahri said he’s a ‘nice piece of meat’ to sink her canines into,” Bonnie giggles again, her imagination clearly painting a different picture than mine when she mimes biting her arm.  

Mom, her hands deftly woven through Bonnie’s hair, gives a rough tug. Bonnie winces at the sharp pull but it doesn’t deter her from her relentless gossiping. 

“If you aren’t getting married, Sin, what are you planning to do instead?” Bonnie asks, her voice dripping with curiosity tinged with a hint of condescension. At fifteen, Bonnie’s own aspirations are firmly set on her future marriage; no other future matters to her. She’s set on marrying the man I don’t choose, making the alpha contestant the pack’s Beta of the pack. 

“I have other plans,” I assert, testing the waters. 

“Plans that should include marriage,” Mom insists, her gaze capturing mine in the mirror with an intensity that suggests this is not just a casual suggestion. “You’re not getting any younger, Sinsoel.” 

“Mom, I’m seventeen,” I retort, my laughter masking the building frustration bubbling beneath. “And, I was thinking more along the lines of getting a job in the city, maybe going to college. There’s a community campus between here and Oakfort. Plus, the state school is there. I could still live here.” The plea in my voice is palpable, even to my own ears. 

“College?” Bonnie’s voice spikes an octave higher, incredulous. “But who will marry you if you’re buried in books all day?” 

“I’d rather be buried in books than married before I can even vote!” I snap back, the playfulness in my tone edged with irritation. 

Angie claps her hands, her eyes alight with mischief. “Oh, isn’t this better than any soap opera? Tell us more, Sin! What’s this about a job? Who in their right mind would hire you?” she teases, her grin wide as she eagerly leans in for my response. 

I sit up, leaning forward with enthusiasm, brushing off her dig. “I met someone from the city last week when I went with Dad. They told me about all these opportunities, internships, places where I can use my brain, not just running. I spoke with my counselor, and they believe I can get a scholarship for Track and get a free ride.” 

Mom sighs, her hands dropping from Bonnie’s freshly braided hair to rest on her hips. “Sinsoel, being an Alpha’s daughter comes with responsibilities. You can’t just abandon your pack for city dreams.” 

“But what if those dreams aren’t mine, Mom? I’m wolf-less, I’m useless here without one! Shouldn’t I abdicate my position to Bonnie? Isn’t it my right to choose my own path? I want to study business anyway. That will benefit the pack. We can grow our rural city, maybe bring in more people and revenue to the pack?” I please, my voice softening as I search for some sign of understanding in her eyes. 

Mom looks at me, shock being taken over by conflict as she thinks over my words. Torn between the traditional values and rights of the Alpha lineage she cherishes and the fierce independence she’s nurtured in me.  

The dream of holding my business degree, dressed in my track and field gear, fades as the disappointment in her eyes deepens. She doesn’t have to say it aloud. College was never an option for her, so it’s never truly been an option for us either. 

“We’ll discuss this later, Sin. Right now, we need to finish getting ready for the festival. I still have to go help Zach with his twins. And you, young lady, need to think about what’s best for the pack, not just for you. Now, shoo, go shower. You smell.” She waves me from the room. 

As I nod, resigning myself to the end of our conversation, I can’t help but feel the heavy weight of the decision looking over me.  

Do I follow the path laid out for me, or do I carve my own, even if it means stepping away from everything familiar?  

The question lingers, unresolved, as I lazily climb off the bed and head down the hall to my room.  

The bathroom mirror greets me as I step inside. I peel off my sweat-drenched shirt, the fabric clinging stubbornly to my skin, and stare at my reflection as two futures take shape in my mind. 

In one, I see myself married to the next Alpha, a child balanced on my hip, the weight of tradition etched into the lines forming around my eyes. 

In the other, I stand tall with a business degree in hand, my smile bright and unburdened, a glimmer of something entirely mine lighting my face.  

Both visions pull at me, two halves of who I am, locked in quiet, bitter conflict. And I have less than twelve hours to decide which future will be mine, or if the choice will be made for me.