HATING MY ALPHA HUSBAND

CHAPTER 2

ANNIE THORNE

The soft light enters through the window covered by thick curtains, painting the room with a yellowish and gentle glow.

For a moment, I don't know where I am.

My eyes take time to focus. Everything seems blurry, as if the world around me is still submerged, like I was… in the lake.

The lake.

I try to sit up, but my body aches as if it had been crushed by a steamroller. I'm wearing different clothes — a soft sweater and sweatpants.

My still-damp hair is tied in a loose braid, and heavy blankets keep me warm.

I'm alive.

The bedroom door opens and my mother rushes in, her eyes watery but relieved.

"Annie!" she exclaims, coming closer to hug me. "Thank the moon gods, you woke up!"

I sit there, paralyzed for a few seconds, before returning the hug. Her presence is comforting, but something inside me still weighs heavily. "What… what happened?"

"You fell into the lake. You were unconscious. We… we thought we might lose you."

My eyes widen, my heart racing. "But… how did I get out? Who pulled me out?"

My mother hesitates for a second, then sighs.

"Luca."

It’s like the name slices through my skin like a knife.

"Luca Blackwood… saw you fall from the top floor window. He jumped and pulled you out."

Before I can react, or even begin to understand how that’s possible, I hear the creak of the bedroom door.

I turn my face.

Luca is there.

At the entrance of my room.

Tall, imposing, wearing a black turtleneck sweater that clings to his broad shoulders like it was made for him. His dark hair is slightly damp, his golden eyes as cold as I remember — maybe even colder. The same boy who tormented me… now a man made of shadows and ice.

Our eyes meet.

He studies me like someone inspecting a damaged item at an auction. Something in his gaze burns me, even though he doesn't say a word. And still, there’s something inside me — something hateful and involuntary — that pulses just from seeing him there.

My father enters next, weaker than ever, but still with a firm presence. He pats Luca on the back with a brief smile.

"A real man," he says. "Brave. Did what many wouldn’t. A good man."

Luca doesn’t smile. Doesn’t react.

He just watches me.

With a tight throat, I look away and murmur:

"Thank you… for saving me."

He doesn’t answer.

Not a single word.

Just turns around and leaves the room as if I were an unnecessary burden in his life.

I hate him. And yet, the hate doesn’t stop me from feeling something. Something that hurts even more.

"Why is he here?" I ask, wiping my eyes.

My mother takes a deep breath. "We wanted to talk about… the marriage."

"No," I whisper. "I already said I don’t want that."

"Annie…" She sits beside me. "I know it’s hard. I know you hate the idea. But Luca could be a good husband. Even if he doesn’t show emotion, he… he saved you. He cares. In his own way."

"Caring is the bare minimum for a human being," I retort. "But he’s not that. He’s cruel. He always was."

She sighs.

"Even so… he’s the best match to preserve the pack’s lineage. You need to be strong, my love."

She kisses my forehead and stands, saying she’ll let me change clothes.

I’m left alone, heart in pieces.

Later, after putting on something warm and simple, I go downstairs. I hear voices in the living room. My parents talking… with him. As if he were already part of the family. The scene makes me nauseous.

I head to the kitchen to get a glass of water. My fingers are still trembling.

That’s when I hear footsteps behind me.

He enters.

Luca.

With a bottle of red wine in one hand and two glasses in the other. Without giving me a single glance. As if the house were his.

"You walk into my house like it’s your castle now?" I ask, my voice bitter.

He doesn’t answer. Just sets the glasses on the marble counter and starts opening the wine.

"I said thank you for saving me," I continue, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice.

Finally, he speaks. But I wish he hadn’t.

"You never know when to shut that damn mouth, do you?"

The words fall on me like blades. He doesn’t look at me, but the coldness in his voice cuts deep.

"Why are you always like this?" I murmur, feeling my eyes burn.

"Because I’m not here for you, Annie," he replies, pouring the wine into the glasses.

"I don’t care about you. I don’t care about your drama. I just want what I need from you. Heirs. Nothing else."

He starts to leave the kitchen like nothing happened. Like he came here just to open a bottle of wine and pour more salt into the wound he’s carved since we were kids. His presence suffocates me, but his silence consumes me even more.

I should let him go.

I should swallow everything and stay quiet, like my mother always expects me to.

But I can’t.

"There’s something wrong with you."

My voice comes out before I can stop it. Low, but firm.

He stops. Still with his back to me. The wine glass suspended in the air.

"No one can be that cold. No one with a heart in their chest acts the way you do."

He doesn’t answer, but I can see the muscle in his jaw tightening slowly. I clench my fists at my sides, my throat burning.

"I hate you, Luca Blackwood." The pain starts leaking through my words, and I have to force myself to breathe so I won’t cry.

"I hate you more than anything in this world. And this marriage? It’s happening because of my father. Not because of you. Never because of you."

This time, he turns his face slightly, and I can see part of his profile. The defined jaw, his narrowed eyes.

I take two steps closer. "You are the worst person I’ve ever met. Arrogant, cruel, sick."

He turns fully, and now we’re face to face again. The glass still in his hand. His dark eyes piercing through me.

"Are you done, little girl?" he asks, voice dripping with scorn.

My rage swells so much it hurts. "Don’t call me that. I’m not that girl you used to humiliate across the lake anymore. The one who cried because you made her feel like a freak."

I take another step, close enough to see my reflection in his eyes.

"I grew up. And I won’t let you treat me like garbage."

"Go back to your room, little girl."

I raise my finger, pointing it hard at his face.

"You don’t get to order me around!"

He lowers the glass slowly and sets it on the counter. For a second, the world seems to freeze.

And then he grabs me.

Hard.

His hands on my arms, slamming me against the kitchen wall with restrained brutality.

My eyes go wide, heart exploding in my chest. The shock paralyzes me. He’s so close I can feel the heat of his body — and at the same time, the absolute coldness radiating from his eyes.

"You think I saved you because I care?" he says, voice rough, almost a whisper through clenched teeth. "You’re wrong."

His breath hits my face. His fingers dig into my wrists, holding them in place.

"I hate you too, Annie," he spits. "You’re a living reminder of everything I despise. A useless, spoiled, overly emotional werewolf."

The tears burn in my eyes. But I won’t cry for him. Not anymore. I try to break free, but he holds tight.

"This marriage won’t be real," he continues, relentless. "And I will never, Annie, never give you love. I will never look at you like a man looks at his wife. You’ll have my name, my heirs, but nothing else."

Rage consumes me. Not just because of him, but everything. My sick father. My stolen freedom. My fate sealed in the hands of this man who’s been destroying me since childhood.

"You’re a monster," I whisper, struggling against him with all I have. "And I swear, Luca… I swear I wish I had never met you."

With a burst of strength, I shove him. He steps back, but says nothing. Just watches me with that empty stare.

I turn my back to him, eyes blurred by the tears that now refuse to be held back.

I leave the kitchen, crossing the hallway like I’m running from hell itself. I enter the living room where my parents are whispering, but I can’t hear anything beyond the sound of my heart pounding against my ribs.

The taste of rage and pain mixed together is bitter. He’s always had that power over me. Always knew where to hurt. And even now, with the years that have passed, with everything we’ve changed… he still has the power to make me bleed with a single sentence.

Maybe fate made a mistake when it decided he should be mine.

Or maybe that’s the real tragedy.