Page 1 of Pack Fever

Prologue

DANICA

They say storms can rip your life apart, but I like to think they’re clearing the path, sweeping away the old to pave the way for new beginnings.

That’s the moment a boom of thunder shakes the air. A deep growl from the belly of the sky has me flinching in the passenger seat of my dad’s old rusty sedan. Forked lightning tears through the darkening afternoon skies.

I love the rain and staring at the enormous droplets hitting my window, but not on a day we’re rushing through traffic and are on a deadline.

Dad’s knuckles are white from how tightly he grips the steering wheel, which is tugging left and right, pulling us all over the drenched road from the storm pounding onto us. Rain beats down, a drumroll on the roof of our car, and every vehicle zooming past us sends a cascade of water splashing against the window.

“What’s their rush?” he hisses, shaking his head.

I smirk at my dad, who follows every road rule, but on days like today, I’m kind of hoping he’d hurry up a bit more.

“Are you excited, princess?” he asks, glancing over at me quickly, his brows raised from his concentrated expression, the edges of his mouth lifting. “You’re going to blow them away at the audition.”

Just hearing the words has my knees bouncing with excitement. It’s been my dream to appear in The Song, a television show that can elevate someone’s career to stardom. Every winner signs a contract with a music producer. At sixteen, I’m still years away from hitting my Omega heat, when I’ll be forced to match with an Alpha pack.

Yep, this is my moment to shine. To win the auditions and the show! If I get a recording contract, the Alphas I get matched up with by Nexus will have to accept that part of my life will be consumed by my music and career.

“I guess all that begging to convince you finally worked,” I tease. I’d been hounding him for the past three months to take me after discovering my video submission was selected.

A great splash of water crashes into our windshield, and we swerve. I’m slightly freaking out as my heart thunders in my throat.

“It sure did,” he answers with a shaky voice, not looking at me but staring intently at the blur of rain, brake lights, and splashing water on the freeway in front of us.

I sit back in my seat, holding onto my seatbelt, strapping myself in as security. I wish the rain would just stop so we could be there already, and hopefully not be late.

“You know your great-grandmother had an unbelievable voice,” he finally says, breaking the repetitive thump of the thrashing windshield wipers.

“Yeah, I’ve heard about her,” I say, with mirth behind my voice.

“Well, she was exceptional, sought after by many. But sweetie, what I haven’t told you is that when I hear you sing, it’s like she’s come back to life, only you’ve got a fire she never had.”

I laugh, my chest close to bursting at hearing his compliment. Despite the storm raging, us running late, and knowing our world isn’t always fair to Omegas by keeping us controlled and locked up, today I feel different. Like, somehow, I am powerful, and anything is possible.

Holding on to that feeling, I remember my parents once telling me that my first word came out more of a hum, as though I came into this world with a song in my heart. Today feels right, as if this is my calling.

I keep glancing at the clock on the dashboard, chewing on a hangnail as the numbers are ticking away, getting closer to four o’clock. We’re going to be super late.

Dad catches me staring and grins that reassuring smile he always gives me.

“We’ll make it, Danica. Just hold on.”

He switches lanes, the car swaying a bit too sharply. My stomach lurches with an awful feeling when we hit a water puddle that has us skidding faster to get out of our lane. Pulse on fire, I glance into my side mirror at the headlights appearing out of nowhere behind us, barreling toward us with an unimaginable speed. Missing a breath, I grip the door handle, expecting an impact.

“Dad, watch out!”

It all happens too fast, too savage.

“Fuck!” Dad splutters, his hands working to swerve us back into our lane.

But the impact from the back slams into us so hard, so abrupt, I scream. We’re shoved across the freeway diagonally at a ridiculous speed. My throat is raw from my cries while my hands grab hold of anything to steady myself.

Dad’s fighting the wheel, muscles taut, face set in a grim determination, but our sedan has a will of its own.

Somehow, we dodge other cars in the moving traffic but end up careening right for a concrete divider, the corner of our car colliding into it like a sledgehammer blow.

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