Every forty years, fifty women are chosen to compete in the Choosing Festival for the love of our soon to be alpha.
Ridiculously, I was one of them.
Only when four planned weeks turn to one, the fault lands on me with a stupid little spark.
A bond...
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The Invitation Song: bad idea- Ariana Grande Luciella's POV
Fuck this.
I scoff again at the note in front of me, the delicately designed paper resting on my messy bed. I read it again, and again, and again to try and fathom the truth of what's about to come.
Dear Luciella Kline,
I am proud to announce you will be competing in the Choosing Festival!
You will be picked up Friday, July 7th, around noon by one of our highest ranked guards. Please do not bring anything along since everything will be provided.
See you soon,
Felix Tyro
Who decided to pick me out of all the women in the world? Just because my mother is the pack doctor doesn't mean I have the same educational mind as her.
"Luciella!"
Rolling off the bed, I make my way to the doorway and lean half of my body on the frame, crossing my arms over my chest. "What?!" I yell back as I start to hear my mother walk up the stairs to meet me.
Her auburn hair is up in a tight ponytail with diamond earrings gracing her ears. "You're late for work." She explains, frowning in confusion when noticing my casual attire.
"I'm not feeling the best." I lie, hiding the invite behind my back to avoid an outburst of excitement. "I already called Cal and told him I'm not coming in."
Totally getting fired.
She hums and takes a step toward me, evaluating my body to see what the cause is. "You seem alright..." I hear her mumble, pursing her lips after.
"Bad headache." I clarify, rubbing my temples for more effect. "I didn't get much sleep last night..."
Sighing, she starts backing away. "Get some rest. I'm leaving for work in an hour and won't be home until ten." Mom turns around and starts making her way down the stairs. "Leftovers are in the fridge!"
Rolling my eyes, I carefully remove the note from behind my back and inspect it for a few seconds, mentally crying in frustration as I read it over. The whole idea of me going causes shivers to crawl up my back and down my arms while sweat trickles down the nape of my neck.
I haven't even realized I'm not in a dream. It laps around my mind constantly, mocking my wellbeing on the matter. I much rather crawl in a hole and hide until the Festival is over, only coming out for food and water. Maybe they'll forget about me and move on, believing I was a newly turned rouge or better, dead.
A girl only hopes to be forgotten during an unforgettable time.
4 Weeks Till Pickup
Lilah hasn't returned my calls or texts, my phone silently resting in my hand while I stare at it with a foreign look. Usually I hear right back with a smart-ass comment or a very dirty one, I guess it depends on her mood. Only I need her honest opinion and she isn't exactly here to report.
