The Wolves Cycle.
1018 Words
Chapter 4
The Wolves Circle.
The gentle hum of the car’s engine had barely faded when the sharp sound of clicking heels echoed through the grand hallway. Rose had just stepped into Donald’s estate when the door to her room swung open with a force that startled her.
She turned quickly, her heart racing.
In stormed three women—Donald’s sister, Valeria Taylor, along with her two closest friends, Celeste and Marianne.
Their faces were anything but welcoming.
They were here to hunt.
Valeria’s lips twisted into a sneer as she approached Rose with slow, deliberate steps. "Look at the replacement bride, all decked out in stolen silks."
Celeste scoffed, moving to stand beside Valeria. "Honestly, I expected more from Carter. Instead, all I see is a pathetic little rat who stumbled into a life she doesn’t belong in."
Marianne let out a cruel laugh, prowling around the room like a predator sizing up its prey. "This room belonged to Stephanie. And now nobody is tarnishing it."
But Rose stood her ground. She wouldn’t back down. Not for them.
"I didn’t choose this," she said firmly. "If you have an issue, take it up with your brother and my father."
Valeria’s eyes darkened. "Oh, trust me, I will. But first, let’s make one thing clear."
Before Rose could react, slap!
Valeria’s hand struck her cheek, sending her reeling.
Pain shot through her face, but she held back any sound.
Celeste giggled. "Oh, she’s got some fire. Let’s see how long that lasts."
Marianne stepped closer, grabbing a handful of Rose’s hair and yanking her head back. "Did you really think you could replace Stephanie? That we’d just accept you?"
Rose clenched her teeth, refusing to cry out.
"I don’t care what you accept," she shot back. "Your brother and I are married. That’s the reality."
Valeria let out a sharp, humorless laugh.
Then, in a swift motion, she seized Rose’s wrist and twisted it.
Rose gasped, pain flaring through her arm as she was shoved against the vanity table.
"Reality?" Valeria hissed, leaning in closer. "Let me tell you what reality really is, darling." Her breath was warm against Rose’s skin. "You’re nothing but a placeholder. And placeholders? They’re easily tossed aside."
Celeste ran her fingers over the vanity, picking up a silver hairbrush. "I wonder… how much damage a single blow could inflict?"
She lifted it—and before Rose could even brace herself—c***k!
The brush hit her shoulder, sending a sharp wave of pain coursing through her.
Marianne chuckled. "Oops. My hand just slipped."
Rose clenched her fists, pain radiating through her body, but she refused to plead.
"Are you done?" she spat out.
Valeria smirked. "Done?" Her fingers wrapped around Rose’s throat in a teasingly light grip. "Oh no, sweetheart. We’re just getting warmed up."
Celeste bent down, snatching up Rose’s torn veil and tossing it at her feet with a smirk. "You should hang onto that. You might need it for your next wedding."
Marianne clicked her tongue. "If you’re lucky enough to find another buyer."
With that, Valeria released her grip and stepped back, smoothing out her dress.
"Stay out of my way, Rose," she murmured. "Or next time? We won’t be so kind."
And just like that, they were gone.
Rose exhaled shakily, her fingers trembling as she touched her throbbing cheek.
Pain coursed through her, but she wouldn’t shatter.
They thought she was weak.
They thought she was disposable.
But they had no clue what she was truly capable of.
Rose found herself up against a whole host of challenges, not just from Valaria and her crew, but also from Donald's growing doubts.
Rose was sitting on the couch with her back to the door when Donald walked in.
Donald stood in the doorway, his piercing gaze fixed on the phone in her trembling hands
Rose’s heart raced like a war drum in her chest.
He had seen the message.
Her breath caught in her throat, but she forced herself to stay composed.
"It's nothing," she said smoothly, tucking the phone into her clutch.
A slow smirk spread across Donald’s lips. "Nothing? You look terrified for no reason?"
Her fingers tightened around the clutch, her heart pounding.
She needed to take control of this moment before it slipped away from her.
"It’s just my housekeeper," she lied effortlessly. "She’s letting me know about a relative."
Donald tilted his head slightly. "A relative?"
She shrugged casually, trying to appear nonchalant. "My cousin’s son."
The lie felt like fire on her tongue, but she delivered it without a hitch.
Silence hung between them, thick and suffocating.
Then—
Donald nodded. "I see."
A wave of relief washed over her—
Until—
His fingers glided over the polished surface of the table, his voice deceptively light. "I’ll have my assistant send a gift. What’s his name?"
Her stomach dropped.
It was a trap.
He was testing her.
She swallowed hard, forcing herself to stay calm.
"That won’t be necessary," she said with a soft laugh, waving her hand dismissively. "He’s just a baby. He wouldn’t know the difference."
Donald’s gaze remained steady. "A name, Rose."
She felt the ground shift beneath her.
Think. Think.
"Chris," she blurted out.
His expression stayed unreadable. "Chris what?"
Her breath hitched.
Before she could come up with another lie, Donald stepped closer. "You hesitated."
"I didn’t—"
"You did." His voice was low, but his presence loomed large.
Rose clenched her jaw. "Why does it matter?"
Donald smirked. "Because you’re lying to me."
A chill ran down her spine.
She lifted her chin defiantly. "Believe what you want."
He let out a low chuckle, but it wasn’t lighthearted. It was dark and calculating.
"I always do."
The words hit hard, but Rose stood her ground. "I’m your wife, Donald. Whether you want to accept it or not."
That’s when she noticed it—the flash of anger in his eyes.
Before she could even process it, his hand connected with her face.
The impact knocked her off balance, her vision swimming from the surprise.
- Writer
