Prologue

There was one thing that separated White Fang from the rest of his pack. His defiance. While the others were tame sheep, mindlessly eating from the hand that feeds them, he looked past the hand to the person giving it, to their shadowed gaze hidden with intentions that left him agitated, restless—a predator circling the rabbit's hole, unable to see what the rabbit was plotting. The others tucked their tails between their legs and showed soft bellies whenever their alpha passed. White Fang faced his so-called alpha with his lips curled back in a snarl, refusing to be bossed around by someone just because they were the same size as their ego.

Still, White Fang believed when his alpha finally forced him out, his pack would stand up for him. No one had ever been cast out; it was against the ancient traditions of their people. But there he stood in the middle of camp as the alpha stood on the highest rock, looking down at him like a nuisance—something to be slapped away like a mosquito. Snow buffeted his thick coat and exposed face, biting at his skin like undisciplined pups. His fingers curled into fists, nails digging into his palm until fat red droplets fell, staining the snow crimson.

"White Fang," Moose, the alpha, declared with feigned sadness. "You are hereby banished from the Pack until your attitude fixes—"

"My attitude or your cowardliness?" White Fang snapped, pale bitten lips curling back as his ears pinned to his skull. His gaze swept to his pack mates, but none met his eyes. They weren't on his side. He cursed and looked back at Moose as he raised his hand. "You are just afraid that a bigger alpha—"

"Silence!" The alpha's howl made White Fang's tail traitorously sneak between his legs, though he kept his chin raised, a quiet snarl emanating from his throat as Moose gestured to a woman with silver hair like his own. His mother. "Your mother has requested that we not banish you forever. Be grateful, Pup. Most of us wish you left forever. But your mother is highly respected, and she has provided you with a clear path to make amends.

His mother stepped forward, and White Fang's tail began to wag involuntarily as she took his hands into her warm ones. He remembered when he was a young pup, sleeping on her lap while her warm hands combed through his hair and braided it. But her warmth didn't comfort him now.

"White Fang... I know you aren't intentionally rude," she said, gently stroking his hand. "When I was young, I was fierce like you. Full of energy and discontent for the way of the world. Meeting your father helped me see the good in life."

She pulled out a letter and pressed it into his hands, her own resting over it. "You will leave and return with a mate. This show says they will help you find your match—"

White Fang felt his tail lash and his legs grow unsteady. A mate? Before he could retort, her eyes narrowed—the look he got after too much trouble with no way out of punishment. The words faded on his lips as the letter crumpled in his fist. He watched her go, hoping she could see the betrayal in his eyes, hoping her heart burned with sadness as he burned with rage. Out of everyone, he had hoped she would fight for him. Instead... she left with her tail tucked between her legs.

He opened the letter, the words COMPATIBILITY CALCULATIONS typed in cursive font. So this was his only ticket back in. The only way his pack would ever let him return home. He had to win, and the only way to win was to find love. The thought fanned his irritation. White Fang didn't need love—it was distracting. What he loved was hunting, the feeling of icy wind biting his skin as he tracked prey, bringing home a good hunt. Not some random person.

Without his pack, he wouldn't last a day in the tundra. He had to return by any means necessary. Even... lying about being in love.

Well, if they wanted a mate, he would get them one.