Chapter 2 CHAPTER 2
Tessa’s POV
“How dare you try to run?”
My father’s voice crashed through the throne room like thunder. The guards had dragged me back—their hands bruising my arms, my feet stumbling over themselves the whole way.
“Do you really think you can defy me?”
I kept my eyes on the floor. What was I supposed to say? That I’d gone looking for help and found my sister in bed with the man I loved instead? That there was nowhere left to turn?
My fate was already sealed. Words wouldn’t change that.
“Answer me when I’m speaking to you!”
He was off his throne now, marching straight for me. I barely had time to flinch before his hand cracked across my face.
Pain exploded through my cheek. My head snapped to the side, ears ringing.
“There is nowhere for you to go, Tessa.” His voice was calm again. Detached. Like he was discussing livestock. “Your only purpose is to serve me. To obey. And I have decided you will be given to the Feral Alpha. That is final.”
My lips trembled. I wanted to scream at him—beg him, curse him, something—but what would it change?
Nothing ever changed.
He turned away, waving one hand dismissively. “Bring in the artist.”
A woman scurried in, arms full of bottles and brushes and things I couldn’t name. Her eyes darted to me, then away. She didn’t want to look.
“You will change her,” Father said. “Hair, eyes—everything. She will become Thea.”
I lowered my head. My fingers twisted into the fabric of my dress until they ached.
\---
The woman worked in silence.
Her brushes scraped against my scalp. The dyes stung my eyes, burned my nose.
She tugged my hair. Painted my face. Worked quickly, hands shaking the whole time.
I don’t know how long it took. Minutes? Hours? Time didn’t exist anymore.
Then she stepped back.
“It’s done,” she whispered.
My father gestured, and someone shoved a mirror in front of me.
I froze.
The girl staring back wasn’t me.
Blonde hair where mine had been brown. Blue eyes instead of green. My freckles gone—erased like they’d never existed at all.
Thea.
All I saw was Thea.
Not a trace of myself left.
“Perfect.” My father’s voice was pleased. Satisfied. “Take her to her room. Lock the door. She doesn’t leave until the envoy arrives.”
The guards grabbed me again, hauling me to my feet. I didn’t resist. What was the point?
My legs moved on their own as they dragged me through the corridors—past servants who wouldn’t meet my eyes, past portraits of ancestors who’d never know my name.
They shoved me into my room.
The door slammed shut. The lock turned with a heavy click.
And then—silence.
My knees gave out.
I crumpled to the floor, hands pressed over my face, and the sob that tore out of me didn’t even sound human. I cried until my throat was too raw to make sound, until my chest ached and my eyes burned and there was nothing left inside me but emptiness.
Then I just... stayed there.
On the cold stone floor.
Staring at nothing.
Waiting for dawn.
\---
Morning came too soon.
The lock groaned. The door swung open.
“She’s on the floor.”
“Get her up.”
Hands hooked under my arms and pulled. I let them. There was nothing left in me to fight with.
“She looks half-dead.”
“She’ll manage.”
Half-dead.
They weren’t wrong.
They walked me to the bathroom like I was a child. Stripped me down. Scrubbed my skin until it stung. The water was warm, but I felt cold all the way through—like something frozen solid that would never thaw.
They dried me. Dressed me in a gown I’d never have been allowed to touch before, let alone wear. They fastened a necklace around my throat—heavy, expensive—and painted my face with practiced hands.
I stared at the wall the whole time.
Then the guards came.
Their fingers bit into my arms as they hauled me down the corridor. And then I saw her.
Thea.
She stood waiting, arms crossed, lips curved into that familiar cruel smile. Her eyes dragged over me, slow and satisfied, like she was admiring her own reflection.
“Well,” she purred, circling me. “They did a fine job, didn’t they?” She stopped in front of me, tilting her head. “Look at you. My perfect little sacrificial lamb.”
My throat closed up. I wanted to spit at her. Scream. Something. But the words died before they could form.
She leaned in close. “Do me a favor, won’t you?” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Play your part well. Because if you ruin this for me...” Her smile sharpened. “You’ll wish you’d never been born.”
She straightened, laughing softly, and walked away.
My stomach twisted into knots.
She’s right. I’m nothing but a copy now. A placeholder.
The guards yanked me forward.
The throne room doors opened with a groan.
Inside, my father sat on his throne, the beta beside him, courtiers lining the walls like they were here for a show. But none of them mattered.
Because standing in front of the dais was him.
A stranger.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dark, stormy eyes. His face was emotionless—nothing but cold, brutal focus.
And those eyes landed on me.
My knees nearly gave out.
“Is this her?” he asked. “The one with the white wolf?”
My father leaned forward, practically vibrating with eagerness. “Yes. Yes, this is her. My daughter. She’s yours.”
The man moved.
He circled me slowly, like a predator sizing up wounded prey. I could feel his shadow on my skin, the weight of his stare. He leaned in—sniffed—and I flinched.
I wanted to run. But the guards held me in place.
He straightened, mouth curving into a smirk.
“Mm.”
He snapped his fingers.
Another man stepped forward, carrying a bag so heavy it rattled with coin. He dropped it at my father’s feet. Gold spilled out across the floor.
My father’s eyes went wide. Greedy. He dropped to his knees, hands plunging into the pile like a drowning man grasping for air.
“Generous,” he breathed. “Truly generous. She will serve your Alpha well. I promise you.”
The stranger’s hand clamped around my arm.
“I’m taking her now.”
“Of course, of course.” My father didn’t even look up from the gold.
The man dragged me forward. Past the beta. Past the courtiers who turned their faces away. Past my father, still on his knees, counting his coins.
Outside, a carriage waited.
Pure black, with the carved sigil of the Feral Alpha etched into the door.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
He opened the door.
And shoved me inside.
I stumbled, catching myself on the seat, gasping for breath. My hands shook so hard I couldn’t hold them still.
The door slammed shut behind me.
The lock clicked.
And the carriage lurched forward.
I curled into the corner of the seat, pulling my knees to my chest, making myself as small as possible. The envoy sat across from me, silent and still as a statue. I didn’t dare look at him.
My mind circled back—Father on his knees, drowning in gold. Thea’s smile. Lucien’s face when I walked in on them. The mirror showing a stranger where I used to be.
Fresh tears burned behind my eyes.
I bit down on my lip, hard, until the sharp taste of blood flooded my mouth. The pain helped. It kept me here. Kept me from falling apart completely.
The carriage rocked and swayed. Every lurch felt like it was taking me further from the last shred of who I’d been.
Then—
The wheels screeched.
We stopped.
Before I could even process it, the door flew open and the envoy’s hand locked around my arm. He yanked me out so hard I nearly fell.
I looked up.
And froze.
A castle loomed above me, dwarfing my father’s estate like a wolf standing over a rabbit. Black stone rose in jagged towers, spires clawing at the sky like they were trying to pierce the clouds themselves. The whole structure cast a shadow so deep it felt like the sun had forgotten this place existed.
This wasn’t a home.
It was a fortress. A tomb.
“Move.”
The envoy dragged me forward. I stumbled, half-running just to keep from being pulled off my feet.
We passed under gates so tall I couldn’t see the top. Through corridors that stretched, cold and silent as a crypt.
Finally, two enormous doors appeared ahead of us. They swung open without a sound.
The throne room beyond swallowed everything.
It was vast—so vast the ceiling disappeared into shadow. Torches lined the walls, but their light barely touched the darkness. And at the far end, raised on a dais of black stone—
A throne.
And someone sitting on it.
The envoy shoved me forward. Hard.
My knees hit the floor with a sickening crack. Pain shot up my legs, but I didn’t cry out. I couldn’t.
The envoy’s voice rang out in the cavernous silence.
“My King.”
He bowed low.
“I have brought her to you.”