Cressida's POV
My letter for the Academy had arrived in the morning mail. I didn't open it until I was alone, but my heart slammed across my ribs like it was trying to beat its way out of my chest. This was it. The life-raft.
Getting into Ashmore Elite was the only way out of the shadows. They only took the apex—the best teen werewolves in the territories. Graduates became Alphas, advisors, legends.
If I got in, my mother would finally have to see me. Not just look through me, but see me.
'We regret to inform you that your application to the Ashmore Elite Academy has not been accepted at this time.'
The letter was printed on heavy, expensive cream paper.
I couldn't stop touching it. I kept thinking about how thick it was. How much it must have cost them to print something so beautiful just to say no. They could have ignored me. They could have sent a postcard. Instead, they gave me high-grade cardstock to hold my failure.
