Hunted by the Alpha Warlord

Ch3 - The President's Daughter

LIVIA’S POV

“You want me to what?” I nearly screamed at the top of my lungs, sheer will keeping me from popping a blood vessel.

“You are to marry the Alpha Warlord in a ceremony within three days,” my father said, his own voice even-tempered.

“Dad, please…” I started to beg.

For a second I thought I saw a hint of care in his usually cold and distant stare, but a hand on his shoulder grounded him. My stepmother leaned in. “Livia, really now? After everything we’ve done for you?”

I bit the side of my cheek, resisting the urge to scratch her eyes out. Done for me? “I’m forever in your debt, Mrs. Maren, but to marry a werewolf when…”

Maren chittered, holding her hand gracefully over her mouth, as if exposing her mouth while laughing was something to be ashamed of. She was so weird. She looked over at her daughter, Isolde, who was also laughing behind her hand. What was their weird thing about showing their smiles? Weirdo mother with a weirdo daughter. Go figure. Must be in their blood.

My father sighed, “Now Livia, please. The Alpha Warlord demands a virgin bride of high rank.”

I glared. “How do you know I’m even a virgin? I’ve had a boyfriend for over a year now, ya know.”

“You think I don’t know everything that goes on in this bunker? Why do you think I called for you and sequestered you to your quarters the night of your birthday?”

My cheeks heated in embarrassment. He found out about my plans with Caleb? But how? It was creepy enough that his little perfect stepdaughter followed me everywhere I went, but then he knows exactly what’s happening between my boyfriend and me? That was overstepping.

“But what about…”

“There’s no one as high-ranking as a President’s daughter, Livia, and you know this,” he cut me off.

I stomped a foot, feeling childish, but this was absolutely ridiculous. I couldn’t marry a damn werewolf. That was signing my own death certificate. “I don’t see why he needs a high-ranking woman, let alone a virgin. Unless he plans to drink my virgin blood under the moon. And you’re okay with that, Dad? If you’re sacrificing your only true daughter to a monster?”

Isolde glowered at me from the sidelines. She hated when I called myself that. But I had hoped one day if I annoyed her enough, she’d stop following me. Like she’d done since she was three. Annoying b***h. But nope, never worked. She was always there, always in my shadow, except at the soup kitchen.

She wouldn’t be caught dead spending her time helping her fellow human. No, during those times she was off being pampered like the little brat that she was. Who can actually sit around getting massages and nails trimmed while the entire human race is stuck underground, starving and dying? No, there were better uses of time than pampering yourself.

But to each their own, I thought. I couldn’t make someone care about others, let alone my father’s favorite.

“They’ll be arriving tomorrow,” my father continued.

“What?” I squealed.

He rolled his eyes again. “Tomorrow, the Alpha Warlord will be here with some of his pack. We are to introduce the two of you before they settle in for the night. The next day will be spent dealing with the treaty. Then the day after, you are to spend it alone with your groom to get to know him at his request. Then married that evening, under the full moon. The full moon is important to them for their ceremonies.”

I scoffed, “Of course it is. Because it’s all about their precious ‘Moon Goddess, ’ whatever they call her.”

“I hope you don’t intend to speak of their faith like that to your new husband,” Maren snapped.

“Nope, because I don’t plan to marry him.”

I crossed my arms and resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at Maren and my father. My father leaned back in his chair, folding his hands over his protruding belly. So many people were going hungry, but my father was never known to miss a meal, or a snack, or a dessert. “So you’d let some other poor girl suffer your fate?”

That stopped me in my tracks. He was right. If it weren’t me, it’d be someone else. I don’t know who, but no one deserved to be sacrificed to those creatures. Even Isolde. She was annoying, but she didn’t deserve to have her head ripped off or body ripped in two when the Alpha Warlord took what he wanted.

As if reading my mind, he smiled. “So you see, you are exactly the right person for this.”

Because he knew I’d never damn another girl to take on this burden. But…what could I do? Could I present myself for death wearing a bow? Or do I go down kicking and screaming and with a whole lot of spit slung in his face?

I shoved my hands in my pockets, crossing my fingers. A dumb habit I had since I was a child. Cross your fingers when you’re telling a lie. “Fine. I’ll marry the Alpha Warlord.”

He slapped his hands together. “I’m so glad that’s settled then! Maren! Let’s open some bubbly to celebrate.”

My ears perked up. “Can I…”

Maren quickly shot me down. “Not you. We’re not wasting our resources on you.”

I stepped backward, averting my eyes once again. Of course not. They’re sending me to my death, and I still can’t be included in their festivities. I watched as my father poured some of his favorite champagne in three glasses, one for him, Maren, and Isolde. Isolde shot me a look of satisfaction. That girl really got off when my own father rejected me. Sick in the head.

I watched as they toasted each other, as if they had just successfully saved all of humanity by sending me to my death. “Why are we doing this?”

My father paused, confused. “For peace, Livia. This is for a peace treaty.”

My stomach fluttered. “Peace? You mean…”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, Livia. It means werewolves and humans will no longer be at war, and we will live in unison.”

“And there werewolves are okay with us just coming to the surface and acting as if nothing ever happened between us?”

“I’m sure it won’t be that simple, which is why we’ll be doing this in phases—first, a testament to the compatibility between you and your betrothed, and so on. A lot is riding on you, Livia. And it would behoove you not to mess this up. It’s only the entirety of humanity that rests on your shoulders now.”

I gulped—all of humanity but no pressure. But based on the serious look on his face, he meant all the pressure. A back-breaking amount of pressure. I might as well be Atlas, holding the globe on my back.

“What’s his name?” I asked, looking down at my nails and starting to pick at the dirt beneath them.

“Alpha Ronan.”

I shivered. Even his name scared me. How was I supposed to be in his presence if I couldn’t even stand the sound of his name? No, this wouldn’t work.

I understood the importance of what I needed to do. And I didn’t want another girl to have to take my place. But I just…couldn’t. I couldn’t take this lying down and send myself to death for the sake of anyone. I’d been so selfless my entire life, I felt. Couldn’t I be a little selfish and want to live? To finally put my own life before others?

I swallowed a lump in my throat, the guilt threatening to strangle me. I needed to be brave. I needed to do what needed to be done. I needed to marry the Alpha Warlord Ronan. Another shiver ran through my body as I watched the festivities among my “family” continue, champagne being passed around, no glass ever offered.

I cleared my throat. “Is that all you needed of me, sir?”

My father waved a hand at me dismissively. “That’ll be all.”

I turned on my heel and quickly made my way to the door when I heard Maren moving up behind me, then her icy-cold hand grabbing my wrist and spinning me around. The cold fire in her eyes burned as it often did when she looked at me. “Don’t think of doing anything stupid, girl.”

I nodded, forever playing the meek, subservient stepdaughter. Because if I fought back, showed bravery, even threw my shoulders back, she would pounce. And beat me down until I was nothing but a broken shell. I recognized her kind. They couldn’t stand not being in control of everyone around them, which is why my weak-willed father was the perfect candidate for her to latch her claws into, not to mention his status as the human President of all remaining bunkers.

“I won’t,” I muttered, keeping my eyes averted.

She threw my hand back, looking down her nose at me. “Now, go bathe. You smell like trash. And make sure to be somewhat presentable to wear tomorrow. I’ll have Isolde drop off a dress for you. It won’t look as good on you as it does her, but you can only put so much makeup on a pig to distract from what it truly is. Filth.”

Her insults never bothered me anymore. She was always obsessed with calling me a pig because where her daughter was small and frail, I was toned and rounded. Working out, being active, not hiding away in the shadows and in my room let me sport a figure that some might call attractive at some point. If thin and frail wasn’t the norm for humans, I guess.

In books, descriptions usually depicted more women like me. Especially the romance novels I always promised myself I’d stop devouring.

But that wasn’t important to me now. What I needed to do was plan to lose my betrothed.