Play Pretend

Chapter 3: Jess is dead.

Blood.

The pungent smell hits my nostrils as I come to, head throbbing like my skull has been split open.

I groan around the gag in my mouth as zip ties cut painfully into my ankles and wrists. I can't see a thing–I'm blindfolded and it doesn't take a genius to understand what's going on.

Dust lingers in the air, only adding to my terror.

What's happening?! Are they going to kill me?!

Sitting up when I hear the sound of footsteps and low male laughter, I pull desperately against my restraints, saying a prayer to whoever is up there to save me this one time.

The footsteps come to a halt, the laughter ceasing.

The blindfold is cruelly ripped away and fluorescent lights stab at my eyes and threaten to make me blind.

My head whips around as I study the environment; rusted beams, boarded windows and cracked floors.

"She's finally awake." A voice I regrettably remember all too well mocks me.

The wolves from earlier before are lounging against the dirty walls, wearing menacing smirks at the helpless picture I made.

The sight of them makes sweat run down in rivulets on my back.

But the only woman perched on an ornate, out-of-place-looking chair is the reason I begin to tremble.

At first glance, she seems harmless. Powerful, yes, but never threatening.

Upon closer inspection, however, the hard glint in her eyes give her away. Dressed expensively and with a string of pearls around her neck, she screams old money.

And that is the worst kind of money.

I try to breathe as she sizes me up like a piece of meat on a scale.

"It's incredible, the resemblance." She says softly.

I try to find my voice and when I do, it comes out steady, nothing like the quivering mess I am on the inside.

"Who are you? Why am I here?"

Pursed lips convey her displeasure at being questioned.

"I'm Mathilde Harris. You might have heard of me, no?"

Matriarch of the Harris Pack, the oldest and most powerful pack in the city. Their territory spans far and wide and they have a reputation for being ruthless and cold-hearted killers.

What does she want with me?

She leans forward, tossing a picture onto my lap.

"And you? You are going to take my daughter's place."

I look down and I stop breathing.

The woman staring back at me is... me?! The same auburn shoulder-length hair, eyes, smile. Heck, she even has a cluster of freckles dotting her nose just like me. Dressed in silk and diamonds, she oozes the kind of sophistication I could never achieve in a million years.

"My daughter, Chelsea Harris." Msthilde intones. She disappeared four weeks ago."

"What does that have to do with me?" My gaze is still stuck on Chelsea.

"Next week, her full moon mating to Jonas Black is to take place. This alliance has been centuries in the making. Calling off the mating would be detrimental to both parties." She reclines against her chair, calm as can be.

Meanwhile, I'm panicking, because I can deduce what part I play in this.

"I'm human. They'll know I'm not her." I shake my head vigorously, already imagining a thousand ways this could go wrong.

She grins, teeth gleaming dangerously in the dim light.

"Not if we mask your scent. All you have to do is be a good, little mate; attend ceremonies, be Jonas' meek plaything–until we find Chelsea."

Jonas Black is popular for two things: his wealth and being inhumanely cruel. The Alpha of the infamous Black Pack, he leads a band of savages who plunder and burn down everything in their path. They male the Harris' look like angels.

"No!" My answer is instantaneous. "I'm not pretending to be that animal's wife! Over my dead body!"

And I mean it with every fiber of my being.

With a bored expression, Mathilde snaps her fingers and one of the wolves standing guard shoves a tablet in my face.

For the second time in thirty minutes, I come close to puking my guts out.

"Mark!"

He's strapped to a chair with silver that burns through his skin and his handsome face is battered and bruised, a mass of purples and blues.

When he sees me, he begins to struggle in earnest, pulling at his restraints and screaming around the gag in his mouth.

The wolf standing behind him renders a punch to Mark's face, his head whipping back from the impact of the blow. The crunching sound of bones snapping blares through the device, and it is my turn to scream bloody murder.

"Leave him alone!" Tears stream my face, my heart cleaving into two. "You're hurting him! Let him go!"

"All in good time." She assures as she steeples her fingers beneath her chin. "If you choose to be stubborn, I'll personally pour boiling silver down his throat before beheading him and gifting you his head."

The gory visuals she paints are enough to have sobs wracking my frame.

"You do as I say," she continues. "And your lone wolf will walk free. Which will it be, Ms. Harper?"

I hate her. I hate her so much that I want to find a knife and hack away at her.

But I am helpless, left with no options. I have no one in my corner except Mark and he's currently in danger.

Because of me.

I know my fate should I refuse: Cut open and displayed on the street, an example for all who would think to disobey.

I couldn't let that happen to Mark.

She seems to sense the moment resignation seeps into my bones, because she smiles triumphantly.

In the middle of an abandoned warehouse, I do something I never thought I'd have to do: I kill Jess Harper.

And I become Chelsea Harris.

Tears still in my eyes, I meet her gaze dead-on and whisper.

"I'll do it. I'll pretend to be your daughter."

And with those words, I pledge myself to the most dangerous Alpha in the city. All to save the man I love.

A lie. A game.

Even if it breaks me, I think, determination twisting into something sharp.

Even if it kills me!