My mate stole my throne, locked me in a cell, and left me to starve for a year—all because I was a mute, wolfless princess. When he finally let me out, it wasn't to set me free, but to hand me over to Alpha Ronan for an alliance. I should've been terrified of the man everyone called the Alpha of Death, but now, his arms felt safer than the home I'd spent my whole life trapped in. "Six brides have been k!lled before you, Roselle. But you're the first one my wolf refuses to let go." The creaking sound of the iron cell door makes my senses snap awake. My nose twitches as I try to catch any possible scent of food, my stomach already grumbling in protest. It's been three long days since I've had a proper meal, nothing but water and scraps barely enough to keep me going. My body feels weak, numb, even. The cell door finally opens, and I scramble toward it, even though every inch of me aches. It takes everything I have just to move. I'm more than surprised. This is unusual. Normally, they don't bother opening the door, they just slide the food in through the slot. So… what's going on? Are they finally going to k!ll me? My pulse picks up at the thought. It's still dark inside, and I can barely see anything… as a matter of fact, I haven't seen the sun in almost a year. "Well, look at you, dummy…" that familiar voice drawls from the darkness, dripping with mockery. I drag myself backward, already bracing for what comes next—a slap, or fingers tangling painfully in my hair. The light suddenly flicks on, blinding me instantly. I squeeze my eyes shut, my vision struggling to adjust after so long without it. Then I feel a sharp tug at my hair, yanking my limp body to my feet. Hell, I'm too weak to even stand on my own. The slap comes immediately after. My cheek burns, heat spreading across my skin as it reddens. "This is where you belong, you've always belonged here, you weakling. Open your eyes. Now." Another slap lands across my face, stinging so badly it forces a gasp from my lips. I squeeze my eyes open, knowing she won't stop until I do. Nova, my mate's fiancée… or maybe his wife now. I don't even know anymore. With trembling, weak hands, I try to sign, to explain that I can't, that I'm too weak.. Another slap cuts me off instantly. "Open your fvking eyes, or speak… oh, wait," she sneers, her lips curling in cruel amusement. "I forgot, you can't talk. You're wolfless. You can't even speak. How are you even a princess?" I keep my hands to myself. I don't know why I even bother trying to explain when years of experience have taught me that trying to communicate only brings more punishment. I force my eyes open, the light piercing through my vision. It burns, by the goddess, it burns. I blink rapidly, fighting to adjust, struggling just to keep them open. And it's suddenly dawning on me that all this time… there's been a bulb in here, and they chose not to turn it on. Not until now. I stare right at the woman my mate chose over me. Long auburn hair. Flawless skin, everything mine isn't. She's two years older, confident, able to speak without hesitation. Her wolf is strong, her bloodline powerful. Everything I'm not. Just a useless princess, mute, wolfless, hidden away my entire life like some shameful secret. I don't even remember my past. But I do remember Warren, my mate. He promised to rule in my place, said it was for the good of the people. That it would be a disaster if they ever found out the truth… that their only heir to the throne is a silent, broken princess. Another smack lands straight across my face. "You should be lucky you're breathing the same air as I am, weakling." With a snap of her fingers, two guards come out and seize me away from her. Oh hell yeah, they're finally here to k!ll me. "I think I need to wash my hands before you fvking infect me with your dumbness," she adds. The two guards are still holding me captive, even though my weak legs struggle to stand. It's all just wobble and weakness, since I've been used to crawling. Standing only drains more energy from me. "Who knows? You'll finally be of good use to us. Alpha Ronan is making his appearance here today, and these guards will see to your meal and dress. Be on your finest behavior. Is that clear?" Alpha Ronan? I haven't met him in person, but I have heard of him—the last fearless Alpha across every pack. The same Alpha that rumors say every wife he takes ends up dying. Rumor has it his wolf is a beast and ends up feasting on every wife he gets. Why is he coming? What does he need with Warren? And above all, why does Nova want me on my best behavior? I nod, knowing if I don't, it's clearly going to earn me another punishment. She barks orders at the guards, then hisses, spits on the floor, and walks away. I weakly stare after her, catching the familiar gown she's putting on. That gown is mine. It used to be my favorite. As a matter of fact, it's the gown I wore during Warren and my mating ceremony. One of the guards slings me over his shoulder, carrying me straight to one of the pack quarters. The maids who once worked for me are nowhere to be found, and instead, I meet strange faces. "Hang around, Josie. We'll need your help carrying her. We need to bathe her first, then give her food so she can rest and recover. And Cassie, go get the herbs that'll strengthen her bones," the eldest maid orders, and everyone begins acknowledging her instructions. Josie, the guard carrying me, leads me to the bathtub and carefully lowers me into the warm bath. My entire body of sores stings upon coming in contact with the water and whatever it's been mixed with. I can't scream. I'm too weak to even sign. Hours later, I'm already dressed and heading down the stairs, even though my body hasn't entirely recovered. But for what it's worth, I eat a good amount of food, drink water to my fill, and the herbs the maid gives me are quite effective. I descend the stairs all alone, the gown I wear flowing as I walk. My body is weak, but I try my best. I still don't know what the Alpha wants with our pack. I should be more concerned about someone coming to help me away from all this, and maybe someone who will listen to me instead of shunning me away when I try to sign something. Relief floods through me when I reach the last step to the ground floor, but just then, I step on my gown, stumbling forward and expecting to hit the floor. But suddenly, I find myself caught, staring into a strong pair of eyes, the most bedazzling eyes I've ever seen. My heart rate spikes. Chapter 2 ~ ROSELLE ~ You know that moment where Cinderella gets to dance with her prince? Yeah, it feels that way. His cologne of vanilla and chocolate fills my nose… But oh well, I shouldn't be dreaming, because he's only going to look at me the same when he finds out I'm nothing but a mute. "You smell different…" he mutters, eyes never leaving mine. If anything, they seem to stare straight into my soul as though they can see through every layer… "You should be careful…" he says finally, before letting me down… I've never felt so short until this very moment. With a height that towers over me, broad shoulders, thick black hair, well-defined jaw. He's dressed ever so casually… And I know he's not one of the guards, because they'll be in uniform, and he's definitely not. He bows gently, and then suddenly leaves me standing alone to think and try to solve the mystery of who he is… He bows, which actually means he must have known that I'm the princess. My gaze trails after him as he leaves. I steady my stance, grabbing my gown as I keep walking, my destination to meet Warren. He's in his office when I get inside. He stands right in front of me, those cold looks filled with hatred staring back at me, when I was younger, I kept thinking I was misreading it, that maybe I just didn't understand what love looked like yet. I understand now. That look has a name, and it's called disgust. "What's going on?" I sign, even though I know I'm not supposed to talk to him. I'm more concerned about the pack and why Alpha Ronan is at the pack. "Close the door," he says flatly. I walk back to the door, closing it properly even though my hands are still trembling slightly from meeting that strange guy on the stairs. I press my palms together and sign again carefully. "What's happening? Why is Alpha Ronan here?" Warren watches my hands move with the same expression someone wears when a fly won't stop buzzing near their ear. "Stop that." He doesn't even look at what I'm signing. "I told you about doing that in front of me." I lower my hands. That's it… he doesn't want to hear me talk, even with the little effort I try to make with the signals from my hands, it's irritating, he doesn't want to hear it. Warren moves to his desk, straightening papers that don't need straightening. It's something he does when he's about to say something he knows is going to land badly. I've learned his tells the same way prey learns a predator's habits. "You look terrible," he says, glancing up briefly. "They should have done better with your hair." I stare at him. He straightens his cuffs, but doesn't meet my eyes. "Alpha Ronan is here on pack business." A pause. " Which is specifically... you." My stomach drops. I sign again, even though I know he doesn't want me to. "Me? What does he want with me?" "What do you think he wants?" Warren finally looks at me then, and I wish he hadn't. Because that look is the one I know best. The one that says I am a problem he has finally found a solution for. "You're going to be his bride." The words land in the room like something dropped from a great height. His bride. Alpha Ronan? The one whose wives end up dead. I shake my head. Both hands come up, frantic now, signing fast, too fast, probably illegible and I don't care. No. Warren, no. You can't, I'm your mate, I'm still your... The slap comes out of nowhere. My head snaps sideways, cheek blazing, and I grab the edge of his desk to keep from going down, my vision whites out briefly. "Don't." His voice is low. "Don't you dare stand there and remind me of that. You are not my mate. You are nothing but a fvking mistake. A broken, useless, embarrassing mistake that I have carried the burden of for long enough." He grabs my wrist when I try to straighten, yanking me close enough that I can smell the whiskey beneath the expensive cologne. "You can't speak, you can't shift, and you are already eighteen years old and still wolfless. Do you know what they say about me? What they whisper? That the Alpha of Westbrook is shackled to a mute princess who can't even howl at the moon." His grip tightens. "I am done being your keeper. Alpha Ronan wants a bride. You should be grateful someone wants you at all." He releases me hard enough that I stumble backward. I catch myself on the wall. Press my back against it. My cheek is burning, my wrist aching. He smooths his jacket. Rolls his neck like the conversation has been mildly inconvenient for him. "You'll be presented to him within the hour, and don't you try to embarrass me or else you'll go back to that magnificent cell if yours. Don't try sign anything either, you will not make that ridiculous face you make, and you will stand there and look..." The door suddenly opens, interrupting Warren. I turn, and the air leaves my lungs completely. It's him. The man from the stairs, with the Vanilla and chocolate cologne. His eyes find Warren first. Then they move slowly to mine as though he's taking in everything about me that was not there when he first saw me descending the stairs. A muscle in his jaw ticks, and I dont miss the crease of frown forming in his face. "Alpha Ronan." Warren's voice has changed entirely. The cruelty evaporates so fast it's almost impressive. He steps forward, hand extended, smile materializing from nothing. "I wasn't expecting you quite so soon, we were just..." "Is that how you reward females in your pack?" He questions. Warren's hand drops, his mouth opens, and then closes. "I... it's nothing, she was just..." He laughs, and it comes out wrong, too high, too fast. "She's spirited. I was simply trying to speak with my... with your bride. Just a conversation that got slightly..." "Your bride." Alpha Ronan says it slowly. Like he's picking the words up and examining them. Warren nods, too eagerly. "Yes. Yes, exactly. Yours. Which is why I wanted to make sure she understood what was expected of her. She's my sister that I promised to give you as my bride for the alliance," It's almost as if my brain stops working. Sister? Alliance? Not only did Warren take my pack from me, but he fvking lies that I'm his sister and suddenly wants to give me off for an alliance? That's why he fvking released me… so I can finally leave my pack? One minute Alpha Ronan is standing inches away from us, the next, he crosses the distance, hands suddenly grabbing Warren by his shirt and pinning him to the wall… "And what gives you the fvking right to touch my bride?" "I didn't touch her… Alpha…" Chapter 3 ~ RONAN ~ "The council's demands are just stupid." I snort, not even bothering to look at Nikolai as I say it. He knows, because he was there, he had sat right beside me through three hours of the councils debating the terms of an alliance that should have taken twenty minutes to settle. "A seventh bride might just be the charm," Nik says, with a tinge of smirk in his voice without looking at me. "Shut the fvk up, Nik." "I'm just saying..." "We both know she's going to end up dead like every other bride, so drop it." I say, even though It fvking hurt to say because I want to put a end to all of these fvking madness. Nikolai goes quiet. 'He's not wrong though,' Kael my wolf, mutters from the back of my skull. "Seven's perfection, idiot. Try to remember that." You too? 'Just saying what you won't.' I shut him out. Something I've gotten very good at over the years. The territory of Westbrook comes into view, and whatever I think about the council and their demands and the whole cursed arrangement, I file it away. I don't walk into another Alpha's territory distracted, because that's how you end up dead. Nikolai splits off at the gates, saying he needs to confirm the meeting time with Warren's Beta, and I walk the grounds alone. It's a decent territory. Well-kept, well-guarded. Warren runs a tight pack, I'll give him that. Whatever else he is. 'Something's off,' Kael says suddenly. I slow without meaning to. My scan around, every hair in my skin prickling, and alert. 'There.' I don't know what I'm expecting; A threat, maybe, or a scout who got too close. Instead I round the corner near the main staircase and stop. There's a girl on the stairs. She's descending slowly, carefully, like each step costs her something. The gown she wears is too fine for someone who moves like she's still learning how to hold herself upright. She's so ethereal, even thouhh she's looking pale with dark circles rounding her eyes. A fading mark across her cheek that my wolf catalogs before my brain even catches up. She hasn't seen me yet. "You should go meet her," Kael urges, purring loudly in my ear. This is the first time he's acting all giddy and excited just by seeing a female. I don't move. I'm trying to place the scent, and that's the strange thing. She has a scent, but it's a faint one, as though it's barely there, like something that was almost extinguished—like a candle someone tried very hard to put out that refused to go completely dark. One minute I'm still trying to decipher it, the next, she trips on her gown and is already falling. My adrenaline surges, and I close the distance between us immediately. She lands in my arms instead of the floor, and for a second we're just… still. Fvking still. My brain is calm, the raging storm in my chest pauses to ease. Her eyes find mine, and they're extraordinary. Wide, dark-circled, frightened. But beneath the fear, there's something else, there's something there, the passion, the fire, the spark in her that tells me she's feeling whatever this is too. Hell, can someone be this pretty? "Mate," Kael chuffs. I ignore him, because I know he can be crazy at times… I can't feel any bond with her… the only thing I can sense is her different smell, nothing like a girl that has her wolf or… I can't smell her wolf, and she doesn't smell purely human either. "You smell different," I say, somewhat out of the blue. Shit… hell, that came out wrong… and why the hell am I suddenly chickening out? She stares at me without saying a word. Why isn't she saying a word? I do want to hear her talk, but then again, why is it driving me crazy to know more about her? There's something about the way she holds herself even now, half-caught in a stranger's arms, exhausted and clearly unwell, there's a dignity to it. I set her down carefully. "She's royalty," Kael says. My thoughts exactly. I bow. Because my mother raised me with one non-negotiable rule: you honor women. All of them. Regardless of rank, regardless of circumstance. "You should be careful," I tell her, and then finally leave. "We're going back for her," Kael says. "We're going to a meeting." "Same thing." Snorting, I roll my eyes, knowing it's going to be stupid arguing with a wolf that's inside my head just to make a point. --- Warren's office is easy to find, from the description his Beta had sent. I'm about to open the door when a sudden voice in the room halts me. I stop—I don't want to enter and interrupt whatever drama… that's not what I came for… I hear a muffled sound, and Kael almost goes crazy when the scent suddenly hits me. I storm in, throwing the door open, and my eyes go directly to where the scent is coming from. Same girl, same gown. And Warren's hand comes off her face, her head still turned sideways from the impact. Everything in me goes very, very quiet. I cross the distance in three steps. My hands find Warren's shirt before he even registers I've moved, and then he's off the ground, back hitting the wall with enough force to rattle the frame. My hand connects with his face before he can dodge. I slam him onto his desk, watching as the dark wood cracks from the impact… I don't care if he's going to break his spine or bones or whatever the fvk he ends up breaking. I'm not done… Kael lets out a fvking growl, threatening to rip free and fully finish him, but I suppress the urge. Turning to her, I find her visibly petrified… I don't know if she's surprised I stood up for her or if she's scared of me. I can tell she's frightened… and the fact that she has to see me like this makes me want to break more of Warren's bones. Her hazel eyes narrow into mine, and like ice, they chill every burning fire raging in me. I don't register all the fvking words and threats I throw at him, but one thing is fvking clear. I'm going to make Warren pay for ever laying his hand on my bride. I want to ask questions—when he says she's my bride, that she's his sister, that arrangements have been made, why would he hit his own sister? But Kael isn't having it. I'm taking her to my pack. I immediately mindlink Nikolai. "Get our lawyer. There needs to be a modification made to our contractual terms…" "What kind of modification?" he answers immediately. I whisper the terms, earning a gasp from his side… sometimes, when you want to play chess, you don't move a single piece, you flip the entire fvking board. "I'll have it drafted in ten," Nikolai says, voice tight with disbelief. Chapter 4 Nik is currently with her in a quarter Warren provides for us. In as much as it fvking aches me to have left her side, it's fvking pissing me off that I need to spend more time in this bloody pack. The contract is already drawn up. Since it was already printed, all my lawyer had to do was add a clause and send over the soft copy for printing. I glance through it the second time, checking for the clause that I demanded to be added, with a satisfied smirk. I slam it right on his desk… There's a cut bleeding from his nose. Even though it's been up to thirty minutes, I can tell that his wolf has not fully healed him. "You're only alive because I choose to, Warren… Now, sign this… But don't think I'm going to let you walk away scot-free… I'm not, and you know I don't bluff… Sign the fvking papers, I need to leave this pathetic hellhole." I curse. His eyes dart towards the paper. The broken table has already been replaced with a new one. "Are the terms still beneficial? If not, I'm afraid I'll have to—" he protests, but I don't let him finish, I stand to my feet, slamming my hand on his desk as hard as I can. "You should know better than to fvk with me, Warren. Fvking sign it… You should be lucky that I don't go back on my word. So hence, the alliance still benefits you. Westbrook gets Black Shadow protection, trade access, and council favor…" The look in his eyes brightens as he grabs the pen, scribbling his signature. I pick up the contract, fold it once, and tuck it inside my jacket. "My lawyer will file the original with the council by morning. You'll receive your copy within the week. And also, Warren, the contract states you leave her alone. You don't contact her, or send anyone to contact her either… And if anything happens to her that traces back to you or this pack, Westbrook's Southern territory transfers to my name within seventy-two hours." The excitement on his face drains on hearing my statement, and I smirk. If only he knew half of his assets are going to his sister too, then he wouldn't just be frowning. He parts his mouth to say whatever filth he has… I wonder where he's hiding his shameful face. I move towards the door. "Have her things ready, we're leaving right away…" "She doesn't have things," he remarks, a tinge of bitterness biting back. Something is fishy. Why would he treat his sister as scum? And I'm d@mn sure that today's treatment wouldn't be as bad as the others I don't get to witness. "And why is that? Isn't she your sister, as you say? And she's eighteen, and you mean to tell me she doesn't have a fvking cloth aside from the one she's putting on?" I'm already losing my temper at how unbearable and wicked he can be. The people must be suffering if his own sister is suffering this much. The door suddenly opens, and a petite lady with auburn hair fills the entrance. Her face immediately drops into a scare, which she quickly masks with a smile. "Alpha Ronan… I hear you've already taken a liking to your new bride. Hope you do like her… and her manners don't upset you… because she's a slave…" "You should shut her up for insulting our mate…" Kael quips. I raise a brow at Warren, ignoring her coy attention. Sister and now slave? "I thought you said she was your sister… Warren…" The woman's eyes widen, and she and Warren exchange a look immediately. Something is indeed very fishy. From the similar ring on her hand and Warren's, she must be Warren's mate. "Yes, she's his sister… but you know how it is with the black sheep of the family," she says, recovering fast, her smile sliding back into place like a mask she's practiced wearing. "She's always been a bit of a… burden. I'm sure you'll find out soon enough." I say nothing, staring at her intensely, which she takes for an invitation to go further. "I just want to prepare you, Alpha Ronan, because I'd hate for you to be blindsided…" She steps further into the room, clasping her hands together. "She can't talk, I mean not a single word. She's as mute as a stone, and before you ask, she has no wolf either. And what's worse is that she's come of age. She's eighteen. eighteen years old, and nothing." She laughs in a mocking tone. "We've tried everything, bless her heart. She's just… empty. Broken, if we're being honest. I always said Warren was too kind, keeping her around this long. A wolfless, dumb girl with no future, no use, no—" "Rip her throat out," Kael snarls. "Enough." My voice pierces through the room like a blade hitting stone. She stops mid-sentence, blinking. I turn to Warren. "Put her in her place." I say it quietly. "Now. Before I do it for you." Warren straightens immediately, finally finding a spine when it costs him nothing. "Nova—" "I was only trying to help—" "I said enough." Warren yells, and her mouth snaps shut, her smile curdling at the edges. I stare at her for a beat. "What she is or isn't," I say, "is no longer your business. What comes out of your mouth about my bride is no longer your business either." I tilt my head slightly. "Are we clear?" She nods once, stiffly, fear instilled in her eyes as she immediately scurries away from my sight to Warren. "She hates our mate, and must have made her see hell," Kael says. I know. I look back at Warren, fixing my jacket. "You can keep her stuff. She's not coming back here, so it doesn't matter." I walk toward the door, finally mindlinking Nikolai for us to get set. Chapter 5 ~ RONAN ~ She's seated at the edge of the bed when I walk in, her back straight, hands folded in her lap like she's been coached to sit that way. Nikolai is across the room, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, and the look he gives me when I enter says she's fine and has been like that. I cross to her. "We're leaving in five," I say softly, my eyes meeting hers. She looks away, and I reach for her hand to help her up. She winces from my hold, withdraws her hand from mine, and tries to hide it just as fast, but I've already caught it. Kael growls inwardly at me. The smell of fresh blood hits us instantly. I reach for the edge of the gown's sleeve, slowly, giving her every chance to pull back, and push it up gently. I don't let go of her hand. I turn it over slowly, and I frown instantly at the sight I'm met with. The material of the gown she's wearing is pressed into her wrist, peeling off an old wound that's freshly reopened. "Look," Kael observes quietly. I already am. Fury burns through me, and d@mn it, breaking Warren's bones wasn't just enough for this. I should have fvking ended him… "Breathe," Kael says. I'm trying. I'm fvking trying to… what's that fvking d@mn stupid exercise again? Inhale. Exhale… How can someone be this evil? All because she's mute? So, what? I look up at her face. She's staring at me with those soft hazel eyes, completely still, waiting to be told what to do with my reaction. Is this what they've turned her into now? "What happened to you?" I ask, trying as much as I can to keep my voice as calm as I can without letting it growl out. She holds my gaze for a moment. Then her free hand lifts, fingers moving. She's signing. Thankfully, as an Alpha, I was made to understand certain languages, including signing. "I'm not permitted to talk." I stare at her. H3ll fvking yeah, they threatened her. "I'm sorry?" She signs it again, slower. Patient with me, even now. "I'm not permitted to talk. To sign, either. But it's nothing." Not permitted. Eighteen years old, in her own pack, her own home, and someone told her she was not permitted to use her own hands to speak. "I'm going to go back and finish Warren," Kael says. Get in line. "I know, but we have to be rational about it… We're in his pack, and ending him would mean war with other packs, but we're definitely not fvking letting this slide." "It's not nothing?" Repeating her answer with a frown on my face, she blinks. "And from this moment, when you're speaking to me, you talk freely. Sign freely. However you need to communicate to me, Is that fine?" She stares at me like I've said something in a foreign language. Her long lashes beat together, but she nods anyway, her face pulling back into her once sober self. Was I too harsh? Did I… I move to the box Nikolai had brought in from the car, I never travel without a spare set, old habit, and pull out a loose-fitting top. It's soft, and nothing that's going to press against damaged skin. "Here." I hold it out. "It'll be more comfortable than…" Her hands come up immediately, waving it off and then signing politely. "I'm fine, thank you. I don't need it." How much more have they damaged her? There's going to be a whole lot of healing to do. I look at the gown. At the place where the seam meets her wrist. "Are you comfortable?" I ask. "Yes." Her reply comes almost immediately. "She's lying," Kael says plainly, with his usual tone of finality. "I can smell the pain on her." I know. I don't push it, because I'm trying to live in her world, and she's used to commands, doing things when someone yells at her, and I'm not going to remind her of the monsters she grew up with if I mandate anything on her. I need her to see that she has the right to reject and accept without anyone forcing anything on her. I fold the top and set it on the bed beside her instead. Nikolai's mindlink opens quietly in the back of my head. "She's been abused, Ronan. I spoke to one of the maids while you were with Warren. She wouldn't say much, but she explained some things." I exhale slowly through my nose. "Warren's a dickhead," I answer. "Him and that woman, Nova. I'm certain they've both been at her. Probably for a long time." "Take the box to the car, we'll come after you," I add, turning to face him. He's already moving. "And what of her things?" he asks… and I sigh… The Moon Goddess help me if I leave this pack without k!lling Warren with my bare hands. "Warren says she has nothing…" The shock in Nikolai's face tells me I wasn't even exaggerating. "Isn't that suspicious for someone he claims to be his sister?" "I know, right? His mate called her a slave… Those are two different stories that don't add up. We'll do more findings when we get back." Nikolai finishes and heads to the door. A pause… and then he connects to the mindlink again. "I'm concerned, Ronan… when word gets back to the pack that your new bride is mute… you know what they're going to say. The speculation alone is going to—" "I don't give two fvks what they say, Nik." Silence on his end. "She's mute," I continue. "She's not dead or less human. She has a voice—it just doesn't come out of her mouth, and even if it never does, that's nobody's business but hers. What I give a fvk about is that she's safe. That's it. That's the whole list." Another pause. Longer this time. "You've never said that about any of the others," he adds ever so casually. I don't answer him. This is the wrong time for such a joke he's aiming at right now… even though he's right, and I hate to admit it. Six brides, six different women I tried to keep at a distance because distance felt like mercy. If they didn't get close, maybe losing them would hurt less. Maybe the curse would move faster and cleaner, and I could carry the guilt quietly. She's different. Different from the rest… I mean, I was expecting someone witty, sassy, talkative, or someone that's too… I don't know what I was expecting, but it's different from her. And I want to protect her. Every instinct in me screams to protect her, and what's worse is I do. Her faint scent keeps pulling at something in my chest. I don't know who she really is, or what Warren was hiding, or how many more scars are under that gown that I haven't seen yet. What I know is this. I've never in my life felt the need to put myself between something and another person. "Let's go," I say gently, extending my arm to her. She stands to her feet, smooths the gown with both hands, and then, without being asked, she picks up the folded top from the bed. However, she doesn't put it on—she just simply holds it. "Small steps," Kael murmurs. And I smile, feeling so relieved. Chapter 6 ~ ROSELLE ~ My heart doesn't stop racing, because it's almost impossible to believe that the same stranger who caught me on the stairs is Alpha Ronan. The Alpha of Death. The same man Warren so casually signed my life away to, like I was nothing more than a transaction he'd been waiting to close. I don't understand why he stood up for me. I'd been bracing for someone twice the devil Warren is. That's what the stories painted, brutal, merciless, a man whose very presence ends lives. And he is terrifying, don't get me wrong. There's something about him that makes the air feel different, heavier, like the atmosphere itself adjusts to accommodate him. But he's… different. So different that my heart does something embarrassing every time he so much as glances in my direction. Which is dangerous. Because he's not safety. He's death wearing a very convincing disguise, and I'd do well to remember that. Six women came before me. Six. And not a single one of them made it out. Whatever he is, whatever this pull is that makes my chest do strange things when he's near, it doesn't change the ending. I've just swapped one cage for another, and this one happens to have better-looking walls. The drive to his pack is anything but silent. I spend most of it staring out the window, watching Westbrook disappear behind us. I keep waiting to feel something about leaving, grief, maybe, or relief. Instead there's just this hollow quietness sitting in the center of my chest. Westbrook was never truly home, not after Father died and everything that was supposed to be mine was stripped away piece by piece, starting with my voice and ending with my dignity. Everyone turned their backs the moment he was gone, and I couldn't even scream about it. The truth is, even if I wanted to fight this; fight him, I have nowhere to go. No pack at my back, no wolf at my side, no voice to call for help. If I run, I get dragged back. If I resist, I end up in a cell worse than Warren's. At least here, for whatever strange reason, someone looked at Warren hitting me and decided it wasn't acceptable. Nobody has ever decided that before. I steal a glance at him from the corner of my eye. He's looking straight ahead, jaw set, one hand resting on his thigh. Nikolai, his Beta, is in the front seat, and the two of them haven't spoken since we left. The silence between them isn't uncomfortable though. I look back out the window. "He's still going to get you k!lled, Roselle," an eerie little voice whispers at the back of my head, and I sigh. I know. But I'm not dead yet. When we arrive at his pack, the sight of it takes my breath away. I don't mean that softly or poetically, I mean it literally steals the air straight from my lungs the moment we pass through the gates. Cobblestone streets line every path, smooth and even. The houses are magnificent, grand, surrounded by greenery so deliberately kept it looks like the land itself is proud to be here. Pack members move through the streets freely, children running without looking over their shoulders, women talking in groups, men laughing at something without watching the exits first. This is what a pack is supposed to look like. My chest aches with something I don't have a name for. He walks slightly ahead, leading us toward the pack house, and to say I'm petrified is an understatement, every single person we pass bows, not just to him but to both of us, heads dipping, eyes lowering to me. They're bowing to me?I almost stop walking. I haven't had anyone bow to me since I was a child, since before everything fell apart and I became Westbrook's best kept shameful secret. I'd forgotten what it felt like to be seen as something other than a burden. My throat tightens and I keep my eyes straight ahead because the last thing I need is to fall apart on a cobblestone street in front of strangers. The pack house is even more extraordinary up close. Guards usher us in without a word, and I follow Ronan through doors that open like they've been expecting him, which I suppose they have. The interior is warm, I barely have time to take it in before we're ushered into a room where three people are already waiting. An elderly man with a stethoscope hung around his neck. Two women standing beside him, both with the kind of quiet competence that tells you they know exactly what they're doing. They turn when we enter, and I'm already prepared for them to look at him, to acknowledge only him the way everyone in my life always has. They bow to both of us. "Alpha." The elderly man's voice is warm. Then his eyes move to me, and he bows his head again, lower this time. "Luna." Luna? The word hits me somewhere behind my sternum and just stays there. Is this a dream? Because it feels like something my brain constructed during those long dark days in the cell when I had nothing to do but imagine a life that didn't feel like slow suffocation. "Get to work," Ronan says simply, and the three of them move immediately, efficiently, and it's only when the elderly man takes a gentle step toward me that the reality of what's happening starts to crystallize. They're going to examine me. My stomach drops straight to the floor, which means they're going to see everything, every scar, every bruise still yellowing at the edges, every mark that tells the story of years I've spent being someone's punching bag, someone's convenient outlet, someone's proof that power without accountability turns people into monsters. My hands ball into fists at my sides. I don't want them to see. It's not even about the pain, I made peace with the pain a long time ago. It's the exposure. It's standing in front of strangers and watching their faces shift when they realize how much damage one person can carry and still keep walking. It's the pity. I cannot stand the pity. I feel Ronan's eyes on the side of my face. I don't look at him. The elderly healer stops in front of me, his expression gentle. "I'm going to need you to trust me," he says quietly. "Can you do that?" I stare at him, then nod very slowly.
Not enough history yet to show a trend.