Tangled

5 Ava: Gala (1)

I stand in front of the full–length mirror, my hands shaking as I fumble with the zipper of my dress. The fabric is soft and silky, just as beautiful as the day I bought it. It’s the nicest thing I’ve ever worn, but I feel like an impostor in it.

I twist and turn just a little, enjoying the feel of my skirt swirling around my legs. As a child, I remember twirling just like this, wishing my dresses would spin like they do for Disney princesses. The little girl in me is satisfied with what she sees in the mirror, while the older me, the current me, thinks I shouldn’t even be

here.

Jessa and Mom look me over, their eyes critical as they

take in my appearance.

“Oh, Ava,” Mom sighs, even her disappointment sounding cultured and elegant. “Couldn’t you have at least tried to do something with your hair?”

I reach up, touching my hair in surprise. I thought it looked nice with the forced makeover Jessa had dragged me to but Mom’s face says otherwise. “I

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thought it was fine,” I mumble, my cheeks burning with

shame.

Jessa rolls her eyes. “Of course you did. Come on, let’s get this over with. I bet you didn’t even bring anything. Let’s just do a quick french twist.”

She grabs my arm and drags me back into the room, pushing me down into a chair in front of the vanity. Mom follows, her lips pursed in a tight line.

“Sit up straight,” Mom snaps, her hands on my shoulders as she forces me to straighten my spine. “And suck in your stomach. Those hips of yours are far too wide for this dress. It isn’t much better than a potato sack. Honestly, Ava. If your dad didn’t need to bring you to show the other packs that you’re alive and well, I wouldn’t dare be seen with you. You look like some hobo from the city. What’s that saying, Jessa? A cow’s ear can never be a purse?”

I bite my lip, fighting back unwanted tears as they continue to criticize every aspect of my appearance. I want to ask why the packs even care if I’m alive and well, but I know Mom will be upset if I push.

That little girl deep inside of me, so satisfied with the

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5 Ava: Gala (1)

swirling skirt of my dress, hides so far in my psyche that I’m not sure she will ever come out again. Every bit of stolen joy I’d felt in the mirror is gone, crushed under my mother’s elegant heels and cruel words.

Jessa yanks a brush through my hair, tugging it into an elegant updo with ruthless efficiency.

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” she hisses, her breath hot against my ear. “You owe me big time, Ava. I should be concentrating on myself, not you. You don’t even have any prospects here.” As if she isn’t perfection walking already.

I nod anyway, not trusting myself to speak. I know I’m a burden, a disappointment to everyone in my family. But tonight, I have to put on a brave face and pretend to be something I’m not. Tonight, I have to take everything they say with a smile, just like before. Just for a little longer.

I’ll be free soon. It’s a mantra I repeat to myself as I cower before the disapproval of the people who are supposed to love me the most.

Mom grabs my chin, forcing me to look left, then right, before giving a slight nod. “At least you no longer look

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5 Ava: Gala (1)

homeless. For Moon’s sake, Ava, you should know how to take care of yourself. How do you think this makes me look, like I’ve taught you nothing? You couldn’t even bring a pair of earrings?”

I refrain from reminding her that she hasn’t taught me anything since the day I turned twelve, and I don’t own a single piece of jewelry. Well, no, there’s one… but somehow, I don’t think the friendship bracelet I made myself when I was thirteen would pass her muster.

to my skin. I try to stay still, but my nerves are getting

look

force myself to relax, letting Jessa work her magic. When she’s finished, I hardly recognize the girl staring back at me in the mirror. My skin is flawless, my eyes smoky and alluring, my lips a

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Ava: Gala

deep, sultry red.

back to admire her handiwork. “At least now you

that been in the past hour? Probably

th

sick. But I know I have to do this. I have to play the part of the perfect daughter, the obedient wolf,

then, I’ll

***

my family. Dad and Mom lead, and Phoenix escorts Jessa, leaving me to follow, feeling like the ugly duckling in a sea of swans. It doesn’t help that

but feel in my bones, the grandeur and opulence of the Lunar Gala take my

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Ava: Gala (1)

warm glow over the room. The floors are polished marble, and the walls are adorned with intricate

heart pounding in my chest. All I want is to find a quiet corner to hide away, to escape

my elbow as he steers me towards a well–dressed, older man. I think he is a beta from one of the packs, but my heartbeat

words.

And another. Their names and faces blur in my mind as my father introduces me to more

panic fills my head as I wonder if I will be given any freedom at all. I can feel the walls closing in on me, the air thick with the

sound of forced laughter.

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a striking face, studying all of us with unfamiliar intent.

with

Grey,” he responds, his

daughter. She’s here in search of a fated connection, as it hasn’t

but I notice that he doesn’t extend his

arm, hard enough to bruise as he shot me a hard look, as if to

Ava, my

name now, as the alpha of the Silvermoon Pack.

and I struggle to find something

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no

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Ava: Gala

is all quite beautiful.

up my neck. He smiles then, holding my gaze with his own. “Thank you. I am quite happy to meet the mysterious youngest daughter of our esteemed Beta Grey. We’ve been waiting for you to step into the sociopolitical

neck flushes as anxiety has me tripping over my tongue. “Oh, no, I’m not… I mean, I never had much interest in this sort of thing,” I say, wanting

year. We are all excited to see the elusive Blackstone Pack here, though. It is quite the coup, as my mate likes to

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Ava: Gala

is shake hands with people

thought jiggles in my brain. He doesn’t seem to like Dad, or Phoenix, or hold the Blackstone Pack in high esteem. Maybe he would be willing to help? But- no, that’s a silly thought. No alpha would shield a defective wolf from another

back to Dad. “What a lovely daughter you have, Beta Grey,” he says, his voice deep and filled with some emotion I can’t quite grasp. “She is

my arm. I can feel the

young man approaches our group, and I can feel my father’s grip tighten

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says, his tone

his earlier respect for

blue gown and wavy platinum blonde hair, a coy smile on her

on Jessa. “Kellan Ashbourne, beta of the

extend my own without thinking. He bows over it, his lips nearly brushing my

our eyes meet. He seems to be scrutinizing me as some sort