Chapter Four: Dressed in Chains
1250 Words
RAVEN POV
I was starting to feel normal again, or at least, trying to. The fashion house was a crazy place. One minute, it was silent enough to hear a pin drop; the next, everyone was shouting about how amazing something was.
I was standing among all these fabric rolls and mannequins, still trying to figure out who I was now, while also trying not to lose my mind.
Raven Craslow. That's who everyone thought I was. This scandalous, powerful, famous designer, Luna.
I was surrounded by her world – lace that looked like moonlight, beads finer than frost, sketches, and mood boards overflowing with ideas. Even with all that, I felt like I was a stranger in someone else's clothes.
“I think this seam is a little tight," I mumbled, looking at a dark blue dress with a see-through neckline.
“No, no, it’s perfect,” the main stylist said, sounding nervous and giving the side-eye to a couple of others. You always want it like this, Luna.
I almost said something but stopped myself. What if I don't want it like this anymore?
I reached for a pin to fix the hem, but I poked my finger instead. A drop of blood came out and landed on the white mannequin.
“Oh my God, are you okay?” One of the interns asked, rushing over with some tissues.
“I’m fine,” I said, trying to sound uninterested and sucking on my finger. Just distracted.
My mind was anywhere but on fabric and hemlines. It was stuck on that beast.
Ragnar.
The Alpha. My stepbrother, if you could even call him that. The guy who squeezed my throat and told me I belonged to him, no matter what.
Was Raven such a pervert? How could she think of such an atrocious act with her stepbrother? Something wasn't right.
Nobody talked about the fall I had. No one even whispered about the bloody carpet or the broken vase. But I could see it in their faces.
They were scared.
They were terrified of him.
And if I wanted to know what was going on, I had to play along for now, until I could turn the tables.
“Elna,” I whispered to my nurse, who was sticking to me like glue. “About that fall… nobody’s told me anything.”
Elna got pale. “Please, Luna, don’t ask.”
I need to know.
Her eyes kept darting to the windows like Ragnar might be out there, listening.
“You were found bleeding. Your head… It was bad. You almost died. But nobody saw anything. You were alone.”
I frowned. Nobody saw anything, or nobody would admit to it?
It was a strange thing to me, the pack’s Luna was murdered, and everyone was silent about it. Yuck!
Just then, like the Moon was answering me, the studio door swung open.
A blonde woman stormed in, her heels clicking like she was declaring war.
She was pretty, yeah, but in a mean way. Perfect eyebrows, bright red lips, and a dress that fit her so tightly. She didn’t have elegance; she had control. And jealousy.
Everyone went quiet.
“Oh no,” one of the interns whispered. “Iris.”
The Mistress.
I didn’t need anyone to tell me. The way she moved, the way Elna stiffened up, the way her chin was tilted like she was better than everyone, told me everything. This was the woman Ragnar was sleeping with.
“Well, well,” Iris said, her eyes going small. So the dead are walking around.
“Excuse me?” I said, trying to act calm.
She walked over to the mannequin I had spent four hours on. My body was still aching, and my head was pounding with every stitch I had made. It wasn’t amazing but it was mine.
Out of nowhere, she ripped the fabric.
“Oops,” She said sweetly as the dress fell to the floor in pieces.
People gasped.
“You ruined it,” I said, my heart going fast.
I saved you from looking stupid, she snapped back, her voice sounding like honey but hiding poison. “What kind of Luna does a toddler's job on dresses? We both know you’re faking it. Everyone here knows it.”
I clenched my hands. “Who do you think you are, talking to me like that?”
Her smile got bigger. “You don’t remember? I’m Iris. I'm a Beta-born. And the woman your dead husband couldn’t keep up with.”
I took a step closer. You’re his—?
She cut me off, raising her voice so everyone could hear. “I’m Ragnar’s. I’m everything you’re not – eager and willing. Desired. Wanted.”
Before I could say anything, the room got cold.
A low growl came from the hallway.
Everyone stopped.
The glass doors flew open for the third time today.
Ragnar.
He came in like a storm: boots loud on the floor, eyes burning with a boiling anger that seemed to suck all the air out of the place. His voice cut through the quiet like lightning.
“What is going on?”
Nobody answered.
He looked around, stopping when he saw the ripped fabric at my feet. Then he looked at Iris, who suddenly didn’t seem so smug.
But then she got it together and wrapped her arm around him like she owned him.
“Nothing, baby. Raven’s just… still getting used to things.”
He didn’t push her away. He didn’t correct her.
Instead, he looked at me, and his lips twisted in a way that made me sick.
“You look good when you’re mad, Raven,” he said.
My blood was boiling.
He walked closer, pulling Iris along like she was on a leash. She touched his chest like she was marking him, her fingers running all over him.
The room had turned into a stage, and I was the one everyone was watching.
“I guess you’re already making enemies,” he said casually. “Or maybe… reminding them who you are?”
I lifted my chin. “I’m not yours, Ragnar. I never was.”
He laughed, but he wasn't happy. “Not yet. But soon, you’ll want me. You’ll dream about me. You’ll wake up wanting me so bad.”
People gasped.
I jumped.
“I’ll never want you, I said. You make me sick.”
He came closer.
“Then why are you shaking, Raven?” he whispered in my ear.
“I’m not shaking,” I lied.
He leaned in, his voice softer. “You will. And when you do, you’ll come to me. You’ll beg me. And when you finally do, you’ll confess what everyone already knows.”
I blinked. “And what’s that?”
“That you killed your husband to be with me.”
The room went completely silent.
“That’s a lie,” I said, my voice trembling.
“Is it?” He asked, turning to leave. Iris put her arm around him, acting like a queen next to her king.
“You don't have a choice,” he called without turning around. “Because dead or alive… I will own you forever!”
Behind the doors I overheard Ragnar charging an unknown person, “She will attend the party. Handle it quietly. No mess. Understood?”
I quickly ran out to get a glimpse of the person's face, but unfortunately, I was too late.
- Writer
