Chapter One

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(don't forget to check out the Alpha's Daughter too !)

Layla's POV

"Do you seriously have to go to the training camp?" My best friend, Tyler, asks, rolling over on the bed. He shoves fashion magazines off the bed with a huff. I glower at him in the mirror for making a mess.

"Yeah, sadly I do," I answer for the millionth time. I'm not actually upset about going. I'm ecstatic. Beyond ecstatic, in fact. Now that I am of drinking age, it'll be a whole lot more fun than when I was just a teenager.

"I don't know why you have to always train in the summer," he says, pouting. His phone dings with a new message. He ignores it.

"Ty, we've been over this, like, a thousand times!" I exclaim, rolling my eyes at him. He sits up. He spots another magazine and shoves it off my bed, falling with a flutter on top of the rest of the pile. I don't bother to yell or glare at him this time, it never helps.

"What's a thousand and one gonna hurt?" He smirks at me.

"This is what I get for having a human for a best friend," I mutter sarcastically, loud enough for him to hear.

"This is what I get for having a werewolf for a best friend," Tyler mimics me. I give him a glance in my vanity, trying to look intimidating, but failing, as I put on some powder.

"What do you even do at these camps?" He asks, curiously.

"We just train," I say, trying to be vague. I'm not really allowed to tell him about these types of things. He wasn't even supposed to know I was a werewolf. There's a long story behind how he found out.

Let's just say, it was extremely embarrassing. I don't care as much as I did back then, but I'm glad I can look back on that time of my life with fondness and dozens of laughs and smiles.

"Girl, that doesn't answer my question," he says, threatening me with a pillow.

"Ty, you know I can't tell you," I say impatiently. "Plus, you wouldn't really understand."

"I know, but I still want to know," he pouts a little.

"Ty," I warn him, glaring.

"Layla," he says in a high pitch voice, mimicking me.

"Can't you just drop it?" I beg him, touching up my mascara.

"No," he says shrugging.

"Wrong answer, buddy," I say, lunging at him. He jumps onto the bed, pillow in front of him, smiling widely.

"OK, OK, I'm sorry, geez!" He drops his pillow, and raises his hands in surrender. Clearly, he isn't actually scared. He knows I would never do anything to hurt him. He falls back onto my bed. A blush pink comforter covers the whole queen-sized bed, complimenting my white walls. Pictures crowd my plain walls, us at the beach, at a concert, and just simply hanging out. He is really my only friend.

"Good choice," I say, my canines retracting.

"I hate when you do that," Tyler says, fake gagging.

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