The Alpha's Runaway Bride: Secret Twins

The Caged Bird

The mark on my neck pulses.

Not gently. Not like a heartbeat.

Like something 'trapped' beneath my skin, clawing to get out.

I press my fingers against it—that pale silvery crescent—and the warmth blooms under my touch. Spreading. Sinking. I feel him. A phantom heartbeat thudding in my chest, distant but 'there'.

'Adrian.'

I jerk my hand away like I've been burned.

The bedroom is suffocating without him. The curtains are drawn tight, casting long, skeletal shadows across the marble floor. My clothes from last night lie crumpled on the chair—the silk slip, the torn hem. I can still smell him in the air. Cold air. Cedar. And something metallic I can't name.

I've been sitting on the edge of the bed for hours.

Waiting.

Listening.

But the manor is dead silent.

He's gone. Three days, he said. Three days until the blood results come back.

Three days until they know exactly what I am.

I force myself to stand. My legs are shaky, my knees weak beneath me. My reflection catches me off guard in the mirror—pale skin, dark hollows under my eyes, the silver mark stark against my throat like a brand.

I'm still wearing his shirt.

The fabric is soft against my skin. Expensive. It smells like him.

I strip it off with trembling hands. My fingers fumble with the buttons. I grab my own clothes from the suitcase—gray sweater, dark jeans. Practical. Invisible.

The map Lily gave me is tucked under the mattress.

I slide it out. Unfold it. Trace the lines with my fingertip. The manor stretches across three wings, a maze of corridors and unused rooms. But there's one section marked in red ink, circled twice.

'East Wing. Restricted.'

A cold shiver runs down my spine.

I fold the map, slip it into my pocket, and open the door.

The hallway is empty.

My footsteps are too loud on the hardwood. Every creak, every echo sounds like a gunshot in the silence. I press myself against the wall, listening, heart hammering so hard I can feel it in my throat.

Nothing. Just the distant hum of the heating system.

I follow the map down the main staircase, past the grand foyer, through a narrow corridor lined with portraits. Dead ancestors stare down at me with cold painted eyes. Their gazes feel heavy. Accusing.

I duck into a linen closet when I hear footsteps approaching.

The space is tight, dark. The smell of lavender and old fabric fills my lungs. A maid walks past, her shoes clicking against the floor like a metronome.

I hold my breath.

Wait.

The sound fades.

I slip out.

The ground floor is a maze of sitting rooms and studies, all locked in that heavy, old-money silence. I find the study marked on the map—Adrian's private office—and press my ear against the door.

Voices.

I freeze.

"—three days. That's all we have."

It's Marcus. I'd recognize that clipped, condescending tone anywhere.

"And the Alpha?" Another voice. Deeper. Stranger.

"Gone. Hunting for answers he won't find. The Council has already planted false trails. By the time he realizes the truth, we'll have eliminated the problem."

My blood turns to ice.

"The hybrid?" the stranger asks.

"She's still in the manor. Kept in the dark. She doesn't know what she is. The blood test will confirm it—a human-wolf impurity, an abomination. The Council has been waiting for this."

"And the wedding?"

"A trap." Marcus's voice is smooth. Cruel. I can 'hear' the smile spreading across his face. "The Sterling family knew she wasn't human. They sent her here to die. And when she does, the Council will tighten their control over the King Alpha. Perfect leverage. Perfect pawn."

I can't breathe.

My hand is clamped over my mouth. My back is pressed against the doorframe. The world is tilting sideways, the floor dissolving under my feet.

'I was sent here to die.'

'They knew.'

'They all knew.'

The voices move closer. I scramble into the nearest alcove, behind a heavy velvet curtain, pressing myself into the shadows as the door swings open.

Marcus walks out, followed by a tall man in a dark suit. They head down the hall, their footsteps fading.

I stay frozen for a long time.

When I finally emerge, my hands are shaking so badly I can barely steady myself on the desk.

'Think. Move. Don't fall apart.'

My eyes land on the desk. A small plastic card, sitting next to a stack of papers. A label in neat black lettering: 'East Wing — Restricted.'

I snatch it before I can second-guess myself.

The keycard is cold against my palm. Sharp edges digging into my skin.

The East Wing is darker. Colder.

The air tastes like dust and old paper, like a place that's been sealed off from the rest of the world. The walls are narrower here. The shadows deeper.

I follow the map through a twisting corridor, past doors with faded numbers, until I reach a heavy iron door with a card reader mounted on the wall.

My hand trembles as I swipe the keycard.

A green light.

A click.

The door swings open, and I step inside.

The room is large—larger than I expected—filled with filing cabinets and corkboards covered in photographs. Faces. Names. Dates. All staring down at me like ghosts.

I walk deeper, my footsteps echoing in the silence.

And then I see her.

A photograph pinned to the wall. A woman with silver eyes and a soft smile, her hand resting on her stomach.

'My mother.'

My breath catches in my throat.

A file folder sits on the desk beneath the photograph. I reach for it, my fingers numb.

The label reads: 'STERLING, ROSALIE. ROGUE HYBRID. STATUS: DISPOSED.'

The word hits me like a physical blow.

'Disposed.'

They killed her. The Council. For being what she was. For being what I am.

I open the file with shaking hands. Inside, there's a letter. Yellowed, fragile, the ink faded but still legible.

'To whoever finds this:'

'My name is Rosalie Sterling. I am a hybrid—born of a human mother and a werewolf father. The Council considers my existence an abomination. They have hunted me my entire life.'

'I had a daughter. A beautiful baby girl with silver eyes, just like mine. I hid her with a human family to keep her safe. I changed her scent, bound her wolf, erased every trace of what she is.'

'But the bond is still there. The wolf is sleeping, not dead.'

'If you are reading this, I am already gone. But my daughter is still alive. Find her. Protect her. Tell her I loved her until my last breath.'

'— R.S.'

The letter slips from my fingers.

I can't breathe. My chest is caving in, my vision blurring. Hot tears streak down my cheeks before I can stop them.

'She protected me. She sacrificed everything.'

And I'm standing in the belly of the beast that killed her.

A sound behind me.

A floorboard creaks.

I spin around.

Marcus stands in the doorway, silhouetted against the dim light. His smile is slow. Cold. Predatory. His eyes gleam in the shadows like an animal's.

"Found something interesting, little hybrid?"

I clutch the file to my chest. Step back. My spine hits the filing cabinet with a dull 'thud'.

"The Alpha wanted you kept alive until the blood test." He takes a step forward, and I feel the air shift. "But I don't think he'll mind if I have a little fun first."

His hand slides behind his back.

I see the glint of metal.

My blood runs cold.

I have nowhere to run.