She doesn’t look at me when I enter, only at the empty bags on my bed.“Pack what you need.Quickly.”
My mouth is dry.“What is happening?”
Her slap is sharp and fast, ringing in my ears before the sting fades.
“You whore,” she spits, her lip curling.“Did you think you could run from me?From this family?I know what you did, and I already moved the money.You’ll do as you’re told.You’ll marry Alpha Corvin, and you’ll thank me for saving your worthless skin.”
Tears blur my vision, but I blink them away.Crying only makes her crueler.
I wanted love.I’ve always wanted love.To be chosen for who I am, not bartered like a cow at market.To have someone look at me and see me, not just a womb to be used or a body to be broken.An omega to take a knot and slake the need of a cruel Alpha.
Instead, I get a dress.
A heavy, suffocating cage disguised as satin and lace.It’s shoved into my hands, and I stumble as I carry it to the mirror.White, of course.A mockery of purity.The fabric is rich and stiff, embroidered with silver thread that glitters under the light.The corset is tight enough to crush my ribs, boning digging into my bruised skin.When the maid laces me in, I bite my lip until it bleeds, refusing to let a sound escape.
The veil is long, trailing like a shroud, hiding my face.My hair is braided and pinned so tight my scalp aches, strands tugged until tears sting my eyes.By the time they’re finished, I hardly recognize the girl staring back at me in the mirror.
She looks like a doll.Hollow.Fragile.Already broken.
The council chamber is worse.
It’s vast and cold, stone walls climbing so high I feel like I’ll drown under them.Torches flicker in heavy iron sconces, shadows stretching across the floor.A long aisle stretches toward the raised platform where the councilmen sit, robed and silent, their faces carved from granite.
And waiting at the end of the aisle is Alpha Corvin.
Alpha Corvin is tall and broad, his hair slicked back like oil, his eyes a sharp, cruel gray.His smile is wrong, too thin, too hungry.He doesn’t look at me like a man looks at a bride.He looks at me like a wolf sizing up his meal.
“You’ll do,” he says when I reach him, his voice low enough only I can hear.“I’ll enjoy breaking you.”
My stomach twists violently and I have to swallow back the bile crawling up my throat.
The ceremony begins, words echoing through the chamber, meaningless droning that barely penetrates the buzzing in my head.My hands shake in his, his grip iron and unyielding, crushing my bones until I wince.He leans closer, lips brushing my ear, his breath hot and foul.
“You’ve been touched,” he whispers.“I can smell him on you.Don’t worry, little omega.I’ll fuck the memory of him out of you.Every night.On your knees, on your back, screaming until your voice is gone.I’ll make sure you remember who your Alpha is.”
Tears spill down my cheeks, hot and humiliating.The council watches, impassive, blind to the way his words slice me open.My mother sits near the front, her eyes hard, her mouth a thin line of satisfaction.
I want to scream.I want to run.I want Zion, God help me, I want Zion to tear these walls down, to rip Corvin’s throat out, to scoop me up in those brutal arms and never let me go.
But Zion let me leave.He let me walk away.
So, I stand in front of the council in a dress that feels like a tomb, with a man who wants nothing more than to ruin me, and I wonder if this is what the rest of my life will be from now on—fear, pain, and silence.
And then Corvin says the words that break me completely.
“I’ll breed you until you’re nothing but a hole with a belly.No thoughts.No voice.Just mine.”
The chamber spins and my knees nearly buckle.My tears drip onto the silver embroidery of my dress, staining it, proof that this gown was never meant to be worn by a girl with dreams.
It was made for a prisoner.And that’s all I’ll ever be.The words echo in my skull long after he says them.“A hole with a belly.Nothing more.”
My pulse races, my stomach lurches, and bile stings the back of my throat.I try to steady my breathing, try to hold myself together, but Corvin doesn’t loosen his grip on my hands.His fingers squeeze harder, digging into the delicate bones until I wince.The council doesn’t notice, or maybe they do, and they simply don’t care.That’s the part that chills me most.
This chamber is meant to be sacred.Binding.A place where oaths are spoken and honored.But all I feel is cold stone pressing against the soles of my shoes, heavy air that reeks of old incense and sweat, and the sickly weight of every stare pressed against my skin.
The torches flicker, spitting embers, but their warmth doesn’t reach me.I’m freezing.
The dress clings to me like a shroud, too tight across my ribs, every breath shallow and painful.My throat burns where Zion’s teeth marked me, the bruise hidden beneath lace, but still there, throbbing in time with my heartbeat.I want to touch it.I want to press my fingers there, to remember the fire that made me whisper his name like a prayer.But that too is gone.
