THE ALPHA'S FATED WITCH

CHAPTER 5: The Final Ghost

Earlene

I stood still in the center of my cramped room. My mind was still trapped back in the grand throne room, replaying the exact moment my father traded my life for a magical shield.

People might wonder why I did not scream when the King handed me over to a monster. They might wonder why I did not fall to my knees on the floor and beg for mercy. The answer was very simple.

Begging required a sliver of hope. I knew exactly who I was in this palace. I was the bastard daughter.

A wolfless mistake screaming at a desperate king would only earn a severe beating from the royal guards before being dragged away in chains anyway. Silence was the very last piece of dignity I had left to hold on to, and I refused to let my father take that from me too.

The wooden door to my room creaked open. But it was not a guard coming to fetch me.

My two half sisters, Lecia and Leila, walked inside. The sweet smell of their floral perfumes immediately choked the stale, damp air of my small room. They wore bright, beautiful gowns, looking like perfect porcelain dolls.

Lecia stepped close to me. She reached out and wrapped a thin strand of my ashen hair around her manicured finger, playing with it gently as if we were actually friends.

"You actually did something useful today," Lecia said softly. Her voice dripped with a sickening, fake sweetness. "Thank you for saving us from that terrifying beast. I was absolutely paralyzed in there."

Leila stood near the doorway, crossing her arms over her crimson silk dress. She looked around my bare room with open disgust.

"I always knew she was born to serve us, Lecia," ahe said, curling her lip. "At least now she gets to die doing exactly what she was made for. Keeping the real royals safe. I suppose a bastard has some use after all."

I pulled my hair firmly out of Lecia's grip. I did not raise my voice. I did not give them the satisfaction of seeing my hands shake.

"Get out of my room," I said quietly.

Lecia let out a sharp, tinkling laugh. "Don't act so proud, Earlene. Enjoy the freezing north. We will be sure to forget you by tomorrow."

They turned and walked out, their heavy skirts brushing loudly against the stone floor. I waited until the sound of their footsteps completely faded down the long hall before I let out a slow, shaky breath.

I moved to my small wooden chest to pack. I did not take any dresses or winter cloaks. Thorne had sent a terrifying northern guard to my door exactly ten minutes ago with a very clear, cold message.

I was not allowed to bring a single piece of southern clothing. The Alpha refused to let the fabric of my father's kingdom touch his carriage.

I only had a small, rough canvas sack. I placed a simple wooden hair comb inside. Then, I knelt on the floor and reached beneath the loose stone under my bed. I pulled out a small, worn leather book.

It was my mother's journal. It was the only piece of her I had ever known, filled with faded writing I had memorized over the years.

I ran my thumb over the cracked leather cover before carefully placing it in the bottom of the sack. That was my entire life, neatly packed in less than a minute.

"You shouldn't have to do this."

I turned around quickly. Eliott was standing in the open doorway. My brother looked exhausted. The thick leather book he always carried was missing, replaced by a deep guilt that seemed to drag down his shoulders.

"It is already done, brother," I said, picking up my sack.

He stepped into the room, his dark eyes scanning the bare walls. "I tried to talk to him. I tried to tell father that throwing you to a northern warlord is a coward's move. I told him we could find another way to fix the stone. But he wouldn't even look at me."

"He never listens to anyone," I replied. I walked over to him, keeping my grip tight on my bag. "Do not fight him on this. Not for me. You need to stay safe in this palace."

Eliott looked down at me, his eyes bright with unshed tears. He clenched his fists at his sides. "I cannot protect you. I am the heir to the throne, and I am entirely useless."

"You are not useless," I told him fiercely, stepping closer. "You are just not a brute like the rest of them. Listen to me very carefully. You are going to be King one day. You have to survive. Use your mind, Eliott. Rule this broken place better than he ever did. Make sure no one else is ever sold in a throne room again."

He pulled me into a tight, crushing hug. It was the first time anyone in this family had hugged me in years. I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting the intense burn rising in my throat. I could not cry. I absolutely refused to leave this palace with tears on my face for Thorne's men to see.

I pulled away slowly and gave my brother a single, firm nod. I walked past him, stepping out into the hallway for the very last time.

The walk to the outer courtyard felt like a slow death march. The palace was completely silent. The servants were hiding in the kitchens. The royal guards stood rigidly at their posts, staring straight ahead, refusing to make eye contact with me.

When I finally stepped out into the freezing winter air, the black carriage was waiting in the center of the courtyard. The giant northern warhorses pawed restlessly at the snowy ground, their breath pluming in the cold.

Thorne's soldiers were lined up along the carriage path. Their disdain was incredibly subtle, but it was a heavy weight in the air.

They did not sneer or shout insults like my sisters. Instead, they looked right through me. They shifted their weight slightly, their faces completely blank.

I was sure they saw me as nothing but a fragile, useless human who did not deserve to breathe the same air as their Alpha.

The tall, scarred Vanguard stood near the carriage door. Vane. He did not say a single word. As I walked closer, he simply turned his head and looked away, avoiding my gaze entirely. The quiet disrespect stung worse than any shouted curse.

The wind whipped violently through the courtyard, biting right through the fabric of my dress.

I was absolutely terrified. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped animal trying to escape. I was leaving the only home I had ever known to become the property of a lethal monster who could snap my neck with two fingers.

But I lifted my chin. I forced my spine completely straight. I gripped my small sack tightly and marched toward thewooden door of the carriage.

I grabbed the frozen iron handle and pulled myself up the high steps.

I stepped inside.

The interior of the cabin was pitch black. The thick, heavy curtains were drawn shut, blocking out every ounce of the pale winter sun. It took my eyes a second to adjust to the sudden darkness.

Then, the suffocating pressure hit me all over again.

He was already inside.

Thorne sat in the furthest corner of the carriage. He was a massive, silent shadow melting into the dark leather seats.

I could not see his face clearly, but I could feel his piercing dark eyes fixed entirely on me in the dark. He did not move a single muscle. He did not speak. The sheer force of his presence sucked all the breathable air out of the tiny cabin.

Before I could even take a full breath, the wooden door slammed shut behind me.

The iron lock clicked loudly into place on the outside and the wheels jolted over the cobblestones, pitching me forward into the freezing, heavy dark with him.

My fate was sealed.