Kieran's True Mate

Chapter 3

Sheryl’s POV

Within moments, the maids burst into my room to prepare me for Sinclair.

“Stand,” one of them commanded harshly, like I was a commoner, way beneath them.

I complied, standing up, and letting them transform me from a desperate runaway to something more presentable.

They stripped me of my torn, bloodied clothing and led me to the bathroom. Hot water stung my wounds as they bathed me, their rough touches making me wince painfully.

They didn't care about my pain or wounds, as their hands kept brushing against my sides sending a sharp agonizing pain through my body.

They washed my hair, dried and styled it. Then applied little makeup, just enough to highlight my appearance. The dress they brought for me was very beautiful - a blue royal gown. The kind that Victoria usually wears to her dinner nights or Pack parties. It was so unlike the kind of dress I usually wore - my mother's old clothes.

The dress draped perfectly, concealing my injuries while enhancing my curvaceous frame.

When they finished, I barely recognized myself. I looked so beautiful and polished. The best I'd ever looked since my mother's death.

Two maids led me to the main hall. Their grip was strong and firm on my arm - probably Theodore's orders to prevent me from running again.

We arrived at the main hall. My father sat rigid on one side, Alexandria looked at me with steel in her eyes, and Victoria sat like a princess, with that annoying look of victory on her face. And then there was Sinclair.

He stood up and approached me stealthily, like he wasn't in a hurry. He was massive. Huge - not just in height but in pure, raw presence. His body was a landscape of muscles and abs, carefully hidden under a tailored black suit. His dark hair was streaked with silver and seemed to frame a face that looked carved from granite. Impatience radiated through him like heat, as he stood in front of me like a Greek god.

His dark eyes locked onto me, and I felt exposed. Vulnerable. Stripped.

“What happened here last night?” He sprung the question out of the blue, his voice a deep rumble that seemed to shake the very foundation of the room.

Silence.

He repeated the question, this time with a roar that made everyone - including my father, flinch. "What happened here last night!?"

Terror clawed at my throat, as I quickly spilled out, “I… I tried to escape,” I stammered.

“You tried to escape,” he said, his voice cold. It was more of a statement than a question.

There was a moment of silence, then suddenly, his nostrils flared, “I smell your blood,”

Before I could react, he tore the beautiful dress from my shoulder down to my side, revealing the dark, healing wound. From where I stood, I heard Victoria’s harsh intake of breath - obviously concerned for her dress rather than my welfare.

His eyes turned a deep, terrifying red. “Did she do this?” he demanded, angling his head towards Victoria.

Confusion paralyzed me. How did he know about Victoria?

When I didn’t respond immediately, he growled - a sound so primal it made everyone in the room flinch. In one swift motion, he turned and seized Victoria by her throat, lifting her effortlessly off the floor.

Victoria managed to choke out a desperate, “How…?”

But he cut her short with a thunderous slap. The slap echoed like gunshots - her head snapping back with the force of his blow.

“I know what goes on in every pack, and I was told what happened here last night. You dared touch what belongs to me?" He roared at her.

Victoria struggled against his hold, choking a little, "I'm sorry,"

He snarled, "Try that next time, and I’ll personally skin you alive."

And just as quickly, he dropped her like a ragdoll, her body hitting the floor with a loud thud.

Turning back to me, he seized my hand and pulled me towards the door. As we stormed out, I couldn’t help myself. I looked back at Victoria on the floor, staring daggers at me, and it made me smile. For the first time since this nightmare began, I actually smiled. And I wish I could give her the middle finger right now.

I was led into the car, and it slammed shut immediately, sealing my fate. Sinclair’s presence was so massive that it filled the entire car. The vehicle was clearly custom-built to accommodate his big body.

We were silent during the whole ride. Every breath I took felt dangerous. And I learned quickly that breathing too loudly, shifting too much, or even attempting to speak would result in a glacial stare that froze my very soul. He didn’t even need to look at me, his peripheral vision monitored me constantly.

Hours passed. And the landscape finally transformed from my pack’s familiar forests to unfamiliar territories. When Ravenmoon came into view, I understood immediately why they were considered the most powerful pack in all the lands.

The territory was breathtaking and jaw-dropping. Massive stone walls surrounded a complex that looked more like a medieval castle merged with modern architectural designs. The grounds stretched as far as the eye could see, ancient trees lining the pathways.

As we approached the building, staff appeared out of nowhere and formed a perfect line. The maids and guards were in black and white uniforms, looking sharp and serious.

The car came to a halt in front of the driveway, and Sinclair exited the vehicle immediately.

He gave orders to the staff, discussions I couldn’t hear but could feel the weight of. And then he was gone, disappearing into the massive building like a ghost.

I remained in the car, paralyzed. The realization was too hard to bear - this was my new home now. My new life. And merely looking around, I discovered it'll be difficult to escape from a place like this.

The car door opened, and two maids helped me out and guided me into the house.

The interior was simply amazing. The floors were polished and reflected like mirrors, and crystal chandeliers hung from the ceilings, looking like they were crafted by angels. Expensive artworks adorned the walls of rich, deep colors. Every surface spoke of wealth, power, and orderliness.

They led me to a bedroom that shocked me into silence. If my previous room was a closet, this was an entire kingdom.

Soft blush-colored walls. A bed so large that it could comfortably sleep six people. Silk drapes that cascaded from the ceiling to the floor. A sitting area with plush velvet furniture. Large windows that overlooked landscaped gardens. It was simply beautiful.

The maids removed my torn clothes and dressed me in a soft, dove-gray lounge wear set - something that felt like liquid silk against my skin. Comfortable. Luxurious. Designed to make me feel both precious and powerless.

A woman who looked to be in her fifties, with gray hair pulled into a bun - dismissed the others with a single gesture.

“This will be your new room,” she instructed. Not a request, but a command.

Her eyes bore into me with an intensity that made me feel like a child being prepared for the most important examination of my life.

“I am Helen, the head maid, and you will listen carefully,” she began, “Master Sinclair has very specific expectations.”

She started listing out the rules.

“First, silence is your greatest ally in this house. The master does not tolerate unnecessary noise. When he's in his study, in his private quarters, or anywhere in this house, you will move like a ghost. No unnecessary conversations. No loud movements.”

“Second, obedience is not a suggestion - it is a requirement. Master does not like to repeat himself. When he gives an instruction, you will follow it immediately. Hesitation is not tolerated. Questioning is forbidden.”

She took a step closer, her voice dropping to a more serious tone.

“He is precise in everything. His meals must be prepared exactly to his specifications. Rooms must be maintained in perfect order. Your schedule will be dictated according to his needs, not your desires. You will wake when he wants you to wake. You will sleep when he permits you to sleep.

The list continued. No unauthorized phone calls. No leaving the house without permission. No communication with anyone outside the pack. Every movement, every breath seemed to be regulated.

“Master is not a patient man,” she warned. “He does not wait. He does not forgive. And he certainly does not tolerate disobedience.”

I couldn’t help myself. The fear bubbling inside demanded an answer. “The rules are endless, what if I fail?” The words escaped before I could stop them.

Helen’s expression changed. For a moment, something like genuine fear flickered in her eyes.

“You’ll probably end up like his previous mistresses,” she said flatly. “Dead and forgotten.”