Four Paws

As I gaze at the food Mason is holding, my mouth starts to water, and the gnawing ache in my stomach intensifies. Starving myself has proven to be far more challenging than I initially imagined. Admittedly, I didn't set my expectations very high to begin with.

Mason had warned me that this hunger would be painful, but I didn't fully grasp how distinct it would be from the physical pain I've endured in the past, such as broken bones. With those injuries, I could tough it out without too much trouble, but this hunger has turned me almost wild.

Nevertheless, I remind myself that I'm our best hope to take down the Alpha, and I must present myself convincingly for him to buy into my story.

"Only a few more days," Mason reassures me, repeating the same promise he's been making for weeks. "The wolves have become more active since news of his marriage got out, and your arrival will stir up controversy. Our timing is absolutely crucial."

I nod, absentmindedly stroking the birthmark on the back of my hand. The colour has grown pronounced with age, starting from a fleshy tone when I was a child to its current deep red. I hate it, and I hate even more what it stands for.

My parents refused to tell me for most of my childhood, claiming the information would only get me killed. I only knew I needed to keep it hidden, but when I saw it on the news, I was ecstatic. The way the round mark branches up the backs of my fingers like small vines and cuts off entirely at my wrist is impossible to mistake, and the people on the television had an exact drawing of it.

I am the Alpha's fated mate, and the cursed marking on my hand is the proof.

The wolves were looking for me, searching for the female who had the mark matching their leader's, and reality had yet to overshadow my childhood fantasies. I thought having a fated mate was the most romantic thing in the world and was eager to find him.

Seven-year-olds really are stupid.

Mason hands me a piece of bread, the only thing I'll be allowed to eat for the next forty-eight hours. If I were stronger, I'd push it away, but my fingers are curling around the food and shovelling it into my mouth in the blink of an eye.

It's a miracle Paw Control found me before I made it into the wolves' territory, my childhood delusions of true love urging me to run away in search of my Alpha. They were in the middle of a mission, with the fresh recruits tasked with mapping the borders.

Most government funding is funnelled through them, ensuring our race is safe against the vicious predators that insist on taking over our world. They already have all of Canada and most of the Northwestern United States, and it's Paw Control's job to keep them at bay.

And I'm the key.

"Will you leave my ribs intact?" I ask, gulping down the glass of water Maso offers.

He grimaces; the action is enough.

I know the attack needs to look realistic, but I've broken my ribs too many times to avoid trying to get out of it. I've been training rigorously since being put into the Paw Control programme, but this is serving as the hardest challenge yet.

They've taught me how to fight and defend myself, but now I need to be weak.

The Alpha must think I'm a victim, captured and tortured by the human government because of my mark. He'll be inclined to believe me because I'm his mate, and once I've gathered all the necessary information regarding him and his pack, I'll drive a knife straight into his chest.