Shadowed Bride of the Cursed Alpha

Chapter 2: Empty Hands and Empty Heart

Elowen POV.

I climbed the narrow, creaking stairs all the way up to the top of the house, where the air was dusty and cold. This was my room—the attic. It was nothing more than a small, cramped space hidden beneath the sloping roof, separated from the rest of the world.

There was no furniture save for a thin, lumpy mattress lying directly on the floorboards. No curtains, no rugs, no vanity table, not even a proper chair. The walls were bare and stained with age, and the only light came from a single, tiny window that looked out over the pack grounds. The floor was covered in nothing but dust and shadows. This was where I had lived for nineteen years, treated like an animal rather than a daughter.

"Get ready," my father had ordered.

I let out a short, hollow laugh that sounded more like a sob, and a bitter smirk touched my lips. Get ready? I looked around the empty room, my arms spread wide as if to show someone who wasn’t there.

"Ready for what?" I whispered to myself, the smirk widening into something sad and sharp. "I have nothing. No clothes, no jewelry, no memories worth keeping. I don’t even own a proper suitcase."

Everything beautiful, everything valuable, belonged to Calista. All I owned was the worn-out dress on my back and a few rags folded in the corner. They were sending me to marry a powerful Alpha, a man who owned lands and castles, and I was leaving with absolutely nothing. It was fitting, I supposed. I had been nothing my whole life, so why should I take anything with me when I went to die?

I sat on the edge of the hard mattress, pulling my knees to my chest, waiting for dawn to come and take me away.

Suddenly, the door creaked open. I didn’t need to look up to know who it was. The scent of expensive perfume and flowers filled the small space, clashing with the smell of dust and old wood.

I turned my head and saw Calista standing in the doorway. She was dressed in her finest silk gown, her hair perfectly styled, looking like a princess who had accidentally wandered into a pigsty. On her face was that look I knew so well—a sly, satisfied smirk, her eyes glinting with mischief and hidden triumph.

"Well," she drawled, stepping inside and looking around with obvious distaste, "it looks like you're all packed."

I didn’t say anything. I just stared at her, feeling the weight of my emptiness.

She walked further into the room, her expensive shoes clicking on the bare floor, and stopped in front of me. She looked down at my plain, shabby appearance, and her smirk grew wider.

"I just came to say goodbye, sister," she said sweetly, but her voice was dripping with venom. "Isn't it wonderful? You're finally going to be useful. Father says you're doing this for the pack. How noble of you."

I knew what she really meant. I am safe, and you are going to your death.

"Enjoy your life here, Calista," I said quietly, my voice steady despite the pain in my chest. "Enjoy being the perfect daughter. I hope it was worth sending me away."

Calista giggled, a light, cruel sound. "Oh, it is worth it. Alpha Theron is so powerful… and so old. But don't worry, if you die quickly, maybe we'll put a flower on your grave." She leaned down slightly, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Too bad you won't get to experience being a Luna. But then again, trash belongs in the garbage, doesn't it?"

She straightened up, smoothing her dress, and turned to leave, satisfied with her cruelty. "The carriage is waiting downstairs. Don't keep the Alpha waiting, Elowen."

The door clicked shut, leaving me alone again in the silence and the cold. I stood up slowly, my heart hardening just a little bit more. If I was going to this place, if I was going to face that terrifying man twice my age, I would go with my head held high. I had nothing left to lose.

I stood by the tiny window, watching Calista’s figure disappear back into the warmth and luxury of the house she deserved. The cold wind blew through the cracks in the frame, chilling my skin, but it was nothing compared to the ice inside my chest.

As I waited for the final call, my mind drifted back, asking the same question I had carried in my heart for years.

Why?

Why does Father hate me so much?

I closed my eyes, memories flashing through my mind like broken shards of glass. I remembered being a small child, reaching out for his hand only to have it slapped away. I remembered Calista sitting on his lap, laughing, while I was forced to stand in the corner. He loved her with every fiber of his being, but for me, there was only disgust, only anger, only this endless, burning resentment.

Everyone said it was because I was weak. They said it was because I didn't have a strong wolf, because I was quiet and plain while she was bright and powerful. But deep down, I always felt there was something more. Something darker.

It was as if my very existence was a sin to him. The way he looked at me sometimes… it wasn’t just disappointment. It was loathing. Like I was a constant reminder of something he wanted to forget.

Is it because of Mother? I wondered, a sharp pain piercing my heart.

My mother had died giving birth to Calista, not me, yet somehow, Father acted like I was the one who stole her away. Or maybe… maybe it was something else. Maybe it was the way I looked. People whispered sometimes that I didn't look like him at all. While Calista had his sharp features and his eyes, I was different. I had softer features, darker hair, a wilder look that didn't fit the Luminara Pack at all.

He looks at me like I am a stranger. Like I am an intruder in his home.

Was it possible that I truly wasn't his? The thought was insane, yet it was the only thing that made sense. Why else would a father treat his own flesh and blood worse than a slave? Why else would he send me to marry a cursed man twice my age, openly hoping I would die?

"Because to him, I am already dead," I whispered into the empty room, the bitter smirk returning to my lips. "I am just a ghost he has been waiting to get rid of."

Well, today was his lucky day. I was leaving. I was going to this Alpha Theron, this man they called a monster, and I would never have to see Cyrillus’s hateful face again.

If I died there, so be it. It would be better than living one more day in this house where I was never wanted.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs, heavy and impatient.

"Elowen! Come down now!"

I took one last look at the empty attic—my prison for nineteen years—and turned away. I walked out without looking back, ready to face whatever nightmare awaited me.