SERAPHINA
After my mother died, my father replaced the toy sword in my hand with a dollhouse.
My friends were swapped for the daughters of Alphas, my place in the training yard taken from me and replaced with the suffocating “Play Room,” where I was molded into the image of a perfect Luna.
Act according to your mate’s wishes.
Follow his orders without question.
Speak only when spoken to.
Fulfill your duties as a wife in bed, as a Luna to the pack, and—above all—produce a son.
An heir.
And then one day, I asked my father, Why a son for an heir? Why not a daughter?
His reply was as cold as winter steel. “Women are weak.”
Those words tore something inside me wide open. And from that wound was born the Seraphina my father hated to have brought into this world.
And right now, as I
