Chapter 1 - Wynter
The universe officially hates me. I am one hundred percent certain of that fact. Traveling across the country in a car held together by duct tape and G with a four-year-old and two large collie dogs is not my idea of the universe coming together to envelope me in a loving embrace. My bank balance was inching closer to zero at an alarming rate and was one breakdown from being completely obliterated, and my stomach hadn’t stopped growling since we left Phoenix.
When my publicist, Estelle, called me, I should have just hung up the phone, cut my losses, and searched for another publicist. But I didn’t, and now I was heading to parts unknown to work with another author who didn’t seem all that pleased that I was being foisted on her – a four-year-old and two dogs in tow. I edited Asha Gold’s last three books, and Estelle – who was the one who should have been editing – claims that since I know her work, I’m the perfect choice.
Asha Gold – AKA Sasha Silver or rather Luna Sasha Warrior – was a little put out that Estelle was sending me. She seemed nice enough on the phone, but she kept asking if we could work on the collaboration through online meetings and conference calls. God, I wish we could!
I dreaded moving into the Blood Warrior Pack for any amount of time. My father, Alpha Dylan Cross of the Cross Claw Pack, hated Alpha Vince Warrior and his son, Alpha Sebastian Warrior. I never met either of those alphas. Being the bastard daughter of Alpha Dylan, I was kept hidden. The dirty little secret that everyone in the pack knew existed but never talked about, unless it was to torment me.
When I was turned out of the Cross Claw Pack at fifteen years old with one small duffel bag and no shoes on my feet, I swore I would never look back, and I would never enter another pack. Living in the Cross Claw Pack since my mother abandoned me at three years old until I was fifteen was more than enough. My father despised me, my mother abandoned me, and my father’s mate tortured me. Not to mention the hell my half-siblings put me through.
I might have been able to work through the Daddy and Mommy issues if I wasn’t handed over to my father’s beta, Beta Jones, when I was fifteen. Beta Jones was a sadistic wolf with a dark side. My father literally gave me to the sick bastard as a birthday present. At first, I didn’t understand what was happening, but when my clothes were ripped from my body and Beta beat me before taking my virginity, I realized the entire pack turned its back on me. I was a nobody.
I was locked in the basement of Beta Jones’ house for four months. Four months of torture, four months of him using my body, four months of his mate spitting on me, whipping me, and calling me a whore. After the four months were over, I was thrown onto my father’s doorstep, naked and broken. My father’s mate kicked me and pulled me into the foyer by my hair.
My father found out I was pregnant not long after I was dumped back on his doorstep. He stormed into my room and slapped me across my face, calling me a whore. I was given five minutes to gather my things and get out. He disowned me and had his warriors haul me through the gates without shoes on my feet. The only things I managed to grab were my stash of money – not nearly enough to survive for long – and a change of clothes.
Out on my own, I quickly realized that a pregnant fifteen-year-old really was treated like garbage. I hitched a ride into the nearest human city, bought a pair of cheap shoes at a second-hand store, and desperately searched for a job. Thankfully, a sweet lady named Beth Martin took a chance on me, and I began working in her bakery. She let me stay in the storage room at night.
The thing about werewolves and wolf hybrids and our pregnancies is that they are shorter than a human’s, so I had exactly four months from the time I was kicked out of my pack – two months pregnant – before my little bundle of joy made her appearance into the world. I couldn’t afford medical care, so I delivered my pup by myself, terrified that I would do something wrong and she would suffer from it.
My daughter, born from hate and lust, became my sole focus – my everything, which sounds cliché, I know – but she became my reason for getting up at four in the morning for work at the bakery and working my fingers to the bone spinning dark tales that would make even the strongest warrior tremble during my off hours.
When Estelle contacted me about my writings, I didn’t expect much. But she surprised me, and Wynter Cross – Cross Claw reject – became a published author. Granted, the book advances weren’t great, but they did put food on the table and kept creditors at bay. I was able to move us into a tiny one-room apartment. My fifth book was just released to rave reviews. The Beta’s Secret was an overnight success, and Estelle was giddy.
While Estelle is human, she knows about my kind and is always fascinated by our stories. I think she is a little afraid of me, though, because of the dark things I write about. I’m not a fan of sappy romances and happily ever afters; those don’t exist, and I couldn’t lie to people. Having to edit Sasha Warrior’s books was pure hell. Even her last book, which was released one week after mine, was a sappy love story. Granted, there were darker parts to it, but in the end, the heroine found her happily ever after. I was so disappointed.
Apparently, Luna Sasha was currently writing a book that is basically her autobiography, and Estelle felt that I needed to act as a sounding board for the perfect Luna. When I told Estelle I didn’t want to do it, she threatened me! Told me she would terminate my contract with her publishing company and have me blacklisted as a difficult-to-work-with author.
So, being blackmailed and bullied into helping with a project I had no interest in, I was driving across the country to spend time helping a she-wolf who made it clear I really wasn’t needed or wanted in her home or her pack. If only she knew that the feeling was mutual.
An ear-splitting scream pulled me back to the present and the long stretch of highway in front of me. Sighing deeply, I glance in the rearview mirror and look at my pup who is throwing Cheerios into the floorboard with a sour look on her face. Ethan and Aiden, my two big collies, are happily diving down to grab the treats.
“Willow, why are you screaming?” I tried to sound not so tired, but tears were pricking the back of my eyes, and my heart was heavier than it’s ever been.
Willow's birthday was yesterday. She turned four years old and I could only manage to buy her a Happy Meal and a stale cupcake. The saddest part was that she didn't complain and happily licked the icing off the cupcake.
“I’m hungry!” She wailed at the top of her lungs.
Cringing, I tried to soothe her, “If you’re hungry, why are you throwing your food on the floor?”
“I want a hamburger!” Willow screamed and kicked the seat in front of her.
There was no place to get a hamburger, and I wasn’t entirely sure I had enough change in the ashtray to pay for one. The cash sitting in my wallet had to pay for gas. Sighing heavily again, I looked out the windshield and wondered what I did to make the universe hate me.
