Turns out fate has a sense of humor: it matched me to four alphas, then gave every one of them to my best friend.

Weller. Owen. Tristan. Freddie. My brother's best friends, my scent matches, the four guys I was stupid enough to think were mine. I had it all planned. The perfect night to come clean and finally tell them the truth.

Then graduation night blew up in my face. By the time my mom's "celebratory" cabin trip ended and I clawed my way back into signal, it was done. They were bonded. To her. My best friend of ten years. And she didn't even look sorry.

So I did the mature thing: chucked my phone off a mountain and vanished. Spent five years building a life sharp enough to live without them, telling myself I'd buried it deep enough that it couldn't touch me.

Yeah, well. Should've buried it deeper.

Now my brother's in a coma, and I'm back in Emerald Hills. Back to the alphas who wrecked me. Back to the best friend who's about to find out exactly what I learned to do in those woods.

I came home with a bow and a list.

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. And deadlier. And a whole lot more effed up.

I thought I knew what happened the night of my graduation. I was wrong. The truth is uglier, and the people who pulled the strings are still pulling them.

Five years in the woods didn't break me. It made me. The girl who tucked tail and ran is gone, and what came back doesn't flinch when the knife meets bone.

You didn't want me to be an omega? Fine. You got your wish.

Everyone wants a piece of me. Whitney wants her hands around my throat. Dr. Montgomery wants his perfect pet, collared and compliant. My alphas want to lock me somewhere soft and safe. Their fathers just want me gone.

What do I want? I'm still deciding. But I'd rather die than let anyone own me.

Leashes fail. Collars slip. And monsters? We bite.