Mated by Amnesia

“You aren’t going.” “Like hell I’m not.” “Damnit, Jo, I mean it. You are not going.” My father rises from his chair to his full and, yeah yeah I’ll admit, very intimidating height. He plants both palms flat on his desk, nostrils flaring in that way they do whenever he’s pissed. Which is often. Usually at me. Sometimes it’s something I did. Sometimes it’s something I didn’t do. Sometimes it’s what I said, or what I didn’t say. Really, the list is endless. But most of the time, it’s just…me. I lean back, my boot thudding onto his desk, the other crossed casually over it, eye contact locked while I keep my composure nonchalant. Like I’m lounging instead of challenging the Alpha of the Rushing Waves Pack. (Not even for the first time this week) “Try and stop me, then.” That does it. Red floods his face. I already know his next words. “Sa-nna! SANNA!” Called it. The adjoining office door bursts open. Mom rushes in, worried and exasperated. She stops just far enough away to avoid the blast radius. “Jolena,” she sighs, her voice dripping with condescension. “Why do you always have to be so difficult? We are trying to look out for you, for the entire pack. Must you resist all the time?” Translation: Why can’t you just do as you’re told and stop making things harder for us? Heaven forbid she ever take my side. “Yeah, Mom,” I say evenly, “I am looking out for the pack. That’s why I’m going. They need me.” They exchange a glance. Silent, judgmental, rolling-eyes-leveling glance. Ridiculous. I drop my feet from the desk with a sigh, rub my temples, and meet my father’s eyes again. “Dad, let’s be real. You want the most skilled fighters out there. I am the best. So why wouldn’t you want me to go?” “You’re the Alpha’s daughter. You’re too valuable, honey.” It’s my mother who answers, in that sugar-coated tone that makes my skin crawl. “So… what you’re saying,” I shoot back, “is that my life is worth more than the others’.” “You know that’s not what your mother means!” my father bellows, his eyes bulging so far I half expect them to pop out like in a cartoon. I tilt my head, deadpan. “Then please, enlighten me.” His palms slam the desk hard enough to rattle the pens. Mom pats his arm, as if she can keep him from combusting. Steam practically pours from his ears. “You have a responsibility, Jo! If something happened to me-” “Then Beta Ian would take over,” I cut in, bored. “Beta Ian? My family has been Alphas of this pack for ten generations, ever since it was founded! And you’d have me hand it to Ian?” I press my palms against my forehead and roll my eyes toward the ceiling beams. Same speech, different day. Truth? I’m bored. All I do is train, then sit through Luna lessons, waiting around for some future mate to show up so he can take the Alpha role while I play house for him. That’s supposed to be my grand contribution to our 'family legacy' after ten generations…floral arrangements, babies, and a recycled bloodline. Screw that. I don’t want a mate to be Alpha. I want to be Alpha. To fight. To lead. To prove I’m not just another ornamental luna in the packhouse. Mom tries again, her voice lilting with false cheer. “Honey, Beta Ian’s son will handle things just fine. And you need to prepare for your birthday—” I snort. “Dylan? You’re joking. I’m twice the fighter he is.” They share another one of those looks, and that’s it. I’m on my feet, chair toppling backward. “You think he’s better than me? You trained me, Dad! You know I’m stronger than that i***t!” “No one said—” “You’re implying it!” My palms slam the desk, echoing his earlier gesture. “If Dylan can go, then so can I. And if you’re really worried, let’s settle this. I’ll fight Dylan right now. Winner leads the pack into battle.” “Jo—” “No,” I snap, cutting him off. “You taught me yourself to be better than any man here. Don’t treat me as less just because I wasn’t born with a Y chromosome.” “You aren’t even eighteen yet,” my father growls. I straighten, unflinching. “Then trust me. Let me prove myself. You raised me differently, so let me be different.” The silence stretches, sharp as a blade. Then, barely noticeable, his shoulders drop, and I know what that means. A crack in the armor. A victory. A grin spreads across my face. He knows I’m right. His lip twitches, betraying the faintest hint of pride. “Alpha Aaron, you are not letting my daughter fight!” Mom rounds on him instantly, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. I don’t stay to hear the argument. Slipping out, I grin at my triumph. Dad’s convinced. Mom will follow. Eventually. Finally...I'm given my chance to show what I can do. Because I don’t want to be Luna. I want to be the first female Alpha this pack has ever seen. Nothing- not tradition, not Dylan, not anyone, will stop me.