ALPHA LUCIAN'S MARKED SLAVE

GETTING PREPARED TO BE MARKED

CHAPTER 3: GETTING PREPARED TO BE MARKED

SELENE:

The ride to the Blackthorne Pack was dead silent. Neither Lucian nor I said a single word to each other. He sat on his side of the leather seat, tapping away on his phone and completely ignoring me like I didn't even exist. I just turned my head and focused my gaze outside the window, watching the trees blur past. Looking at the empty road, a heavy darkness settled over my chest. I honestly wished my mother hadn't conceived me. My entire life had been nothing but a mistake.

I was born out of wedlock. My mother, Lilian, was just an Omega servant who worked at the Ravencrest pack house as a maid. I don't know the full story or how it really happened, but she ended up pregnant by Reagan. Terrified out of her mind, Lilian went to Reagan and informed him about the pregnancy, hoping for some kind of mercy. But Reagan was a monster. He rejected Lilian right then and there, throwing her out along with his unborn child. According to what I was told, my mom went through unimaginable suffering, completely abandoned by the pack, and she ended up dying while giving birth to me.

If it wasn't for Alpha Cane, Reagan's father of blessed memory, I probably would’ve died too. He found out about what his son had done, brought me back to the pack house as an infant, and handed me over to Sarah, the pack nanny who raised me. But even with Sarah’s kindness, it didn't change reality. From that day until today, twenty-four years later, there was never a day I wasn't reminded of how unwanted I was in the Ravencrest Pack. I was the bastard child. The curse. The mistake.

“We're here, ma'am,” a deep male voice suddenly snapped me out of my thoughts.

I blinked and looked up. The car had stopped, and the driver was standing outside, holding the door open for me. I didn't even notice that Lucian had already gotten out. He didn't bother waiting for me or checking to see if I was following. He just walked toward the building with long, confident strides, his warriors trailing right behind him.

I stepped out of the Bentley, smoothing down my sweater, and glanced around. The moment I took in my surroundings, my breath completely caught in my throat.

This place was absolutely magnificent. It wasn't just a pack house; it was a literal estate. The main mansion looked like a high-end, modern castle made of dark stone, massive glass windows, and sleek steel beams. The driveway was perfectly paved, lined with flawless, glowing fountains and manicured white rose bushes that looked like they belonged in a billionaire’s magazine. Everything about the environment screamed old money and extreme power. The air here smelled clean, crisp, and rich. It was classy, elegant, and intimidating as hell.

"Miss Selene?"

A polite, middle-aged woman suddenly approached me, breaking my trance. She wore a neat, dark grey uniform, and her hair was tied back in a professional bun. She gave me a small, respectful bow.

"I am Amelia, the head maid," she introduced herself, her tone gentle but firm. "Welcome to the Blackthorne Pack. Please, follow me."

I didn't have the energy to argue, so I just nodded. "Okay. Lead the way."

I followed her through the massive double doors of the mansion. The inside was even more breathtaking—polished marble floors that reflected the crystal chandeliers overhead, expensive abstract art on the walls, and a grand staircase that looked like it belonged in a movie. But Amelia didn't take me to the main living areas. Instead, she led me up a separate set of stairs and down a long hallway, stopping in front of a pair of heavy wooden doors.

She pushed them open, and my heart sank a little. It was a large, luxurious bedroom, but several other women were already waiting inside. They all stood up straight the moment I walked in, their eyes locked onto me.

"Alright, girls, let's move quickly," Amelia commanded, clapping her hands. "We don't have much time before the evening ceremony."

Before I could even ask what was going on, two women walked up to me and immediately started unbuttoning my jacket.

"Wait, what are you doing?" I asked, stepping back, my hands coming up defensively. "I can change myself."

"Apologies, ma'am, but we have strict orders," one of the younger maids said, not looking me in the eye. They stepped forward again, their grips gentle but completely unyielding. They unzipped my dress and began stripping me of my dress.

"Stop, please. I bathed before I left home," I muttered, feeling incredibly exposed and humiliated.

Amelia sighed softly, stepping closer. "Selene, please don't make this difficult. They must bathe you and prepare you. It is the Alpha's order, and his orders can never be disobeyed. If we fail, the consequences are severe for everyone in this room."

Hearing the word Alpha I shivered. I remembered the freezing, lethal aura Lucian carried and the rumours about his ruthlessness. I didn't want to find out what happened to people who crossed him on day one. Realizing I didn't have a choice, I let my shoulders drop and just let them have their way. I went completely numb, staring at the ceiling as they finished undressing me and led me into an attached bathroom that was the size of my entire bedroom.

They guided me into a massive, sunken marble bathtub filled with warm water, scented oils, and thick bubbles. The water felt amazing against my aching skin, but I couldn't even enjoy it. Three women stood around the tub, using soft clothes to wash my arms, my back, and my hair. It felt surreal, like I was some kind of ancient prize being cleaned up for a ritual.

When they finally finished and helped me out of the bathroom, wrapping me in a plush, oversized white robe, the real madness began.

They sat me down in front of a giant vanity mirror. It felt like an assembly line. Some of these women started blow-drying and styling my long hair into elegant waves, some did my nails, filing them down and painting them a soft nude color, and another woman carefully did my makeup, covering the dark circles under my eyes and highlighting my cheekbones. Nobody spoke to me, and I didn't speak to them. I just stared at my reflection, barely recognizing the girl looking back at any of this.

After what felt like hours, Amelia cleared her throat. "Bring it out."

Two maids walked over to a massive wardrobe on the other side of the room and carefully pulled out a gown wrapped in protective plastic. When they unzipped it and presented it before me, my eyes widened in pure shock.

It was a stunningly beautiful wedding gown. The top was a corseted bodice covered in intricate, hand-stitched lace that shimmered subtly under the lights. It had a sweetheart neckline and long, sheer lace sleeves that looked incredibly delicate. The skirt cascaded down in layers of premium silk and tulle, ending in a breathtaking train that pooled on the floor. It was a dress meant for a queen. It was perfect.

For a single, fleeting second, looking at the sheer beauty of the dress, I actually forgot the reality of my situation. I forgot about Reagan’s cruel words, I forgot about being a cursed bastard, and I forgot that I was actually being prepared for death.