Kelsi bit into a cookie, crumbs dropping from her lips and onto the table. "An invitation to what?"

Toria sighed, rolled her eyes, and ripped the envelope open. "To Alpha Lee's Luna Ball," she replied, yanking three sheets of paper out.

Kelsi eyed the papers dubiously. "How do you know that's what it is?"

"Well," Toria said, pulling out a chair and sitting down. "For one, it's got Clan Bloodmoon's sigil and return address." She turned the envelope around and pushed it toward her sister.

So it was, Kelsi noted. The upper lefthand corner was stamped with a red full moon and the clan leader's address.

"And for another, the announcement was all over social media." Toria cleared her throat and in her best fifth-grade teacher voice read out, "Clan Bloodmoon cordially invites you to the Luna Ball on July 16th at the Stillwater Casino Ballroom, 413 Victory St, Hecate City, OR. Cocktail hour begins at 6:00 PM with dinner to follow at 7:30 PM. Attire is semi-formal. Please RSVP no later than July 9th."

Kelsi's brow furrowed. Why did that sound familiar? Had she heard it on the news, perhaps? "A 'Luna Ball'? Isn't that—?"

"Where Alpha Lee is supposed to choose his luna?" Toria finished, laying down the black and gold cardstock invitation and picking up two folded papers. "Yup."

Mom reached out and fingered the cardstock. "That poor boy," she murmured sympathetically. "I wouldn't want to be in his position."

" 'Poor boy'?" Kelsi repeated, surprised. "Mom, he's a beta. There's nothing poor about him." Betas never had to struggle for anything in life. They went to the best schools, had the pick of the best jobs. You would be hard-pressed to find Kelsi Kohl feeling pity for a beta.

"Alpha," Toria corrected with a lift of her eyebrows.

"Whatever," Kelsi grunted, shoving the rest of the cookie into her mouth.

Toria stared at her across the table. "What?" Kelsi asked, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"You're not getting it, kid."

Kelsi's eyes flickered between mother and sister. "What am I not getting? That I should be sad the new alpha has to marry a complete stranger and leave the city? Well, I'm not."

Toria's eyes widened. "We're omegas."

"No shit." The only people lower on the societal food chain in Hecate City were faeries, merfolk, and humans.

Toria groaned in frustration and slapped the invitation with the papers still in her hand. "We got an invitation to the ball, dumbass! Us! Omegas!" She pounded her chest with an empathic thump.

Oh—shit. "There's gotta be a mistake." Reaching out, Kelsi snatched the papers from Toria's hand and unfolded them, eyes scanning the black type. There in the upper lefthand corner was their family name and address.

They were omegas ...

"Dear Kohl Family," she read in a voice that rapidly approached a whisper. "In accordance with Alpha Lee Bloodmoon's wishes, your family has been randomly selected from a pool of eligible households to receive this invitation. Please note the following requirements: 1) Women attending the Ball must be between the ages of 21 and 30. 2) Women must be single. Those who are in committed relationships may not attend. 3) You are allowed to bring one relative to act as chaperone."

Slowly, Kelsi lowered the papers to the table and stared at her mother and sister. This was ... unprecedented. At least in Hecate City.

"We're going," Toria declared with a grin.

Kelsi's head snapped up. "Going?" she repeated, breaking out of her stupor. "Hell no."

Toria glanced at Mom, who shrugged. "And why not?" her sister asked, folding her arms and leaning on the table.

"You can go. I'm staying home." There was no way in hell she'd subject herself to such scrutiny and abuse from the press and beta girls. Especially beta girls. And besides, the new alpha wouldn't even look at her twice—plain as she was and a single mother to boot.

Toria sighed exasperatedly and popped a cookie into her mouth. "I'm not going because I want to marry him. I just want to have a good time and eat really expensive food. C'mon, Kels," she cajoled. "When will we ever get a chance like this again?"

"Your sister has a point," Mom chimed in, smiling softly. "Just go and enjoy yourselves."

Kelsi's mouth pursed and she started to argue with them when she heard Riley's bedroom door open. Her daughter padded down the hallway and went into the bathroom. That reminded her—she had a phone call to make.

"Excuse me," she said and got up from the table, dropping the papers in Toria's lap.

Walking outside, Kelsi went around the back and stood next to the small tool shed in the backyard. Leaning up against the siding, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed Don's number.

"What, Kels?" her ex asked on the third ring.

"You didn't show up for Riley's pinewood derby," she growled, annoyance flaring into anger.

Donovan sighed. "Something else came up."

Kelsi's left hand curled into a fist and she banged it on the shed wall. Metal cried out and reverberated with the strike. What she really wanted to do was punch the asshole in the face. "That's always your excuse isn't it?"

"I got shit to do, Kelsi. I can't drop everything and go to some stupid science camp."

Stupid science camp? Of all the ... "You promised Riley you'd be there."

"So? I'll do something else with the kid."

Kelsi ground her teeth until her jaw started hurting. "You keep promising and promising, but you never follow through."

Don started to speak, but Kelsi just ran right over him, years of anger powering her words like a train. "Why don't you just come out and say it, Don?"

"Say what?"

"That you don't give a shit about our daughter because she's an omega."

"I never said that!" he retorted, voice rising. "Don't you put fuckin' words in my mouth, Kelsi Kohl!"

"What was so important that you had to miss your daughter's event?" she replied, temper rising. "C'mon, tell me, Don. What the fuck was so goddamn important?"

"I don't have to tell you shit, Kels."

"You do when it's our daughter we're talking about. I bet you wouldn't do that to your little gamma girl."

"Do not bring Lacey into this argument—do you hear me, Kelsi?" Don shouted.

Threaten me, will you? Kelsi shifted, fingers tightening around her phone. Her mouth opened, but she paused to swallow. She didn't want to say it—she'd held off for so long—but this was the last straw. "You know what, Don?"

"What?" he snarled, huffing and puffing like the Big Bad Wolf of faerie tales.

"Then you tell Riley that you don't want to see her anymore. You tell her that she's not important and you don't love her. You, not me."

"What?" he repeated, spluttering. "I never said that!"

"Yes, you have. Not with words, but with your actions. You might not give a shit about her, but I do. Every time you break her heart, I'm there to pick up the pieces. You have never seen her tears or heard her crying in the night because her father couldn't keep his promises."

There was a pause, then, "You're a fuckin' lunatic, Kelsi."

Maybe she was. But she was also a mother. "It's the truth, Don."

"Fuck off."

"No, fuck you." She ended the call with Don spluttering on the other end and slumped against the shed. Her hands began shaking and she put the phone down on Riley's slide before she dropped it. Almost immediately, the phone started buzzing and the display showed Don's name.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Kelsi raked a hand through her blonde curls. She glanced over at the house and prayed that her daughter was back in her room, plugged into her tablet with her headphones on.

Mom stood on the back porch, hands gripping the rail. Swallowing her tears, Kelsi reached for the phone and sent Don's call straight to voicemail. "Why doesn't he love her, Mom?" she whispered, lips trembling.

"I don't know, sweetheart," Mom replied, expression drawn.

The phone immediately started ringing again. In a fit of pique, Kelsi snatched it up, answered the call, and growled, "Fuck you, Don!" before ending it. Before her ex could call again, she went to her contacts and blocked his number.

A sense of relief washed over her, but it was short-lived. Kelsi knew that she couldn't keep Riley's father blocked forever, no matter how justified she felt. At the end of the day, Don was still her father and they simply didn't have the money to fight him in court.

As Mom watched from the back porch, Kelsi took a deep, shuddering breath, pocketed her phone, and walked back into the house.