Chapter 2
1035 Words
Aurora’s pov
The evening arrived like a damp rag thrown on dry ground.
I stood stiffly beside my father and stepmother in the grand courtyard of the Blackthorn manor, dressed in clothes finer than anything I had ever worn. The silk fabric felt foreign against my scarred skin, too soft, too expensive. Every time I moved, I could feel the fresh lashes from yesterday pulling and burning. I kept my head slightly bowed, eyes fixed on the ground, wishing I could disappear even as important guests arrived.
The Northern Alpha King’s entourage was impressive. Dozens of elite warriors rode on powerful horses, banners fluttering in the evening wind, and at the center of it all rode the man who held my fate in his hands.
Alpha King Luther Newmon rode at the front, sitting tall and commanding, with his long black hair braided like the warrior king he is. Beside him was Prince Lucien.
My breath caught in my throat.
Even from a distance, Lucien looked every bit the nightmare I had imagined. Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed entirely in black. A lightning-shaped scar sat above his right eye, and his steel-blue gaze swept over the courtyard with cold indifference. He carried an aura of danger so thick it felt like the air itself grew heavier when he approached, and yet… he was breathtakingly handsome in a terrifying way.
“This must be Aurora,” the Alpha King said warmly as he dismounted, his eyes looking me up and down. “Our soon-to-be princess.”
His gaze held something I couldn’t quite read: amusement or perhaps pity. It made my stomach twist painfully.
Father stepped forward with a wide smile I rarely saw. “Your Majesty, it is an honour.”
The formal greeting blurred together. I barely heard them. All I could think was that these powerful people were bargaining with my life as if I were livestock. They were smiling, laughing, and pretending this was normal, like handing a young girl over to a man known to kill his mate was normal or just another political contract.
The whole evening felt like a fever dream.
I stood beside Lucien while they discussed. The weight of everything, my life slowly playing out in front of my eyes. I had done nothing, yet was still reaping the pain of fruits I did not sow.
Later that night, after the guests had been led to their quarters, Luna Seraphina personally escorted me to the luxurious room I had been given.
“Now listen to me, you little rat,” she hissed, shoving me inside and closing the door behind her. “You should be grateful for this opportunity. It's not every day a weak omega like you gets the chance to become a princess.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I whispered, keeping my eyes lowered.
She smiled, cold and cruel. “For the first time, I’m actually happy to have you as my stepdaughter.”
The door clicked shut behind her.
I stood there for a long moment, fists clenched at my sides. Happy? She was only happy because she finally had a sacrificial lamb to trade for power. Eighteen years of beatings, starvation, and humiliation, and now they dressed me up like a prize cow for s*******r.
That night, as the manor grew quiet, I made my decision.
I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t just lie down and wait to die.
I changed into the sturdiest riding clothes I could find in the wardrobe, tied my choppy white hair back, and climbed out the window. The cold night air hit my face as I dropped to the ground. My heart pounded so hard I could hear it in my ears. If I could just make it past the outer wall, I could disappear into the forest. Maybe reach a witch village or even a human settlement. Anywhere but here.
I moved through the shadows; every step was careful, every breath shallow. The fence was just ahead.
A dark figure dropped from the shadows behind me.
Before I could scream, a strong arm wrapped around my mouth and waist, yanking me back against a hard chest. I was lifted off the ground as if I weighed nothing and carried back towards the manor. Panic exploded through me.
The figure kicked open the window to my room and dropped me roughly onto the floor.
I scrambled backwards, breathing hard, and looked up.
It was Lucien.
He towered over me, his steel-blue eyes cold with disappointment. The lightning scar above his right eye seemed to stand out sharply in the moonlight streaming through the window. He looked even more dangerous up close.
“For a powerless omega,” he said, his voice low and dangerous, “you have more courage than sense.” He almost laughed.
I stayed silent, chest heaving, too terrified to speak.
“Did you ever wonder what would happen if you were caught by someone other than me? What would your father or my father do?” he asked
I looked up with a plea in my eyes. “Please don’t report me,” I said in a hushed voice, although part of me really just wished he had left me to try first. Does he really want to kill me as well?
He stepped closer, his presence suffocating. “If you want to live, all you need to do is stay away from me. Do not speak to me. Do not look at me. And stop doing stupid things that will get us both killed.”
His words cut deep, but something in his eye, a flicker of conflict or maybe even frustration, made my stomach twist in a different way.
He turned towards the window, then paused.
“You would be sure to stay away from me,” he added coldly, “if you want to live longer than fate has clearly planned for that pretty face of yours.”
Then he was gone, vanishing into the night as silently as he had appeared.
I sat on the floor, shaking, my mind running in circles.
Who was this man? And why did his warning feel like both a threat…and a twisted kind of protection?
- Writer
