Sold To The Ruthless Werewolf King

9

Emily

My head throbbed with a vicious, blinding heat. Through the heavy fog in my mind, I could hear people whispering—low, buzzing voices that sounded miles away. I tried to open my eyes, but my eyelids felt as though they had been sewn shut with lead.

“Emily! Emily, can you hear me?”

The voice was urgent, but I couldn’t move my lips. I couldn’t speak. It felt like everything in my life had completely broken down, including my own body.

“Throw the water on her!” a harsh voice ordered.

An icy shock crashed over my face. I gasped, choking on the cold water, and my eyes finally snapped open. The room stopped spinning just enough for me to see Anna standing over me. Beside her stood Josh. He was no longer dressed in his casual clothes; he wore the heavy ceremonial Alpha robes.

“Nothing must happen to her before she leaves this pack,” Josh said, his voice laced with a strange anxiety. If a stranger had walked into the room, they would have thought he actually cared about my life.

“I didn’t do anything to her,” Anna scoffed, rolling her eyes as she looked down at me. “I was just showing her how pretty she looks now.”

“Help her up,” Josh commanded, ignoring her.

Two maids stepped forward, grabbing my arms and pulling me roughly to my feet. My knees wobbled, but they held.

“Prepare her for the journey,” Josh added, turning his back on me. “She leaves the moment the ceremony is over.”

“Yes, Alpha,” the maids muttered, bowing their heads before leading me out of the grand room and back down to the guest quarters.

As soon as the heavy wooden door of my room clicked shut, one of the maids turned to the other. “Is her dress ready?”

“Yes,” the second maid replied with a malicious grin. “Miss Anna prepared it personally... according to her new status.”

According to my status?

My eyes drifted to the bed. Laid out on the mattress was a light blue dress. I walked over and picked it up by the shoulders, and the moment the fabric unrolled, my breath caught in my throat. It wasn’t a gown for a queen. It was a joke.

“This dress...” I whispered, my voice trembling with sheer shock. “How can I?”

“This is your wedding dress,” the maid interrupted, smirking. “Pretty, right? It shows off all your best features.”

It was disgusting. The fabric was so thin it was practically see-through, designed to expose as much skin as possible. It looked like something meant to humiliate a prisoner. It was a slutty, cheap garment meant to advertise me as a piece of worthless trash.

“I can’t wear this,” I snarled, pushing it away. “I won’t wear this trash!”

“You don’t have a choice,” the maid snapped, shoving the fabric back into my hands. “This dress fits a slave perfectly. Now put it on before we force you.”

They shoved and pulled at me until I was locked into the thin material. I looked down at myself, feeling completely naked, completely exposed.

It was exactly what Anna wanted—she wanted the entire pack to look at me and see a shameful, broken w***e.

Next came the makeup. They caked heavy powder over my face, trying to cover the deep, jagged red cuts, but it did nothing. The makeup just sat in the wounds, making me look like an ugly, painted freak.

I reached for a lace veil on the dresser, desperate to hide the ruin of my face, but a maid slapped my hand away.

“No veils,” she whispered cruelly. “Miss Anna gave strict orders. The whole world gets to see what happens to people who touch what belongs to her.”

When they were done, they left me alone in the quiet. I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at my fingers. Was this really it?

Was I truly going to give up and let them ship me away like an animal? Would I never get the blood and vengeance I deserved?

No, I thought, the cold flame in my chest flaring back to life. I can’t give up.

I stood up, determined to find a window, an escape route—anything. But the moment I turned the doorknob, two massive guards blocked my path, their spears crossing over the frame.

“Where do you think you’re going, slave?” one roared, his breath hot against my face. “Are you trying to run?”

“No,” I whispered, stepping back. I slammed the door shut and pressed my back against the wood, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Escape wasn’t going to happen. Not from this house. Maybe not ever.

Before I could sink into despair, the door was violently kicked open.