The air was filled with the soft sound of music, the scent of fresh flowers, and the warm hum of anticipation. I stood under the archway, looking into Matthias’ eyes, the Alpha of our pack—the man I had always dreamed of marrying. My heart raced with excitement.

"Do you, Matthias Carter, take Raphaella Turner to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health—"

Before the elder could finish, the doors of the ceremony hall crashed open with a thunderous bang. I flinched, and gasps echoed around us as all heads turned toward the entrance. My heart lurched in my chest as I saw him—Pierre Grassi, the Lycan King.

His presence alone was overwhelming. His piercing eyes locked on me, and I felt a shiver of dread crawl up my spine. What was he doing here? Why would the Lycan King, someone as powerful and terrifying as him, be at my wedding?

Pierre’s lips twisted into a cruel smile, his voice cutting through the shocked silence like a knife. "This wedding is over."

Matthias stepped forward, confusion etched into his face. "What the hell is going on? Why are you here?"

Pierre's eyes never left mine. "Raphaella belongs to me."

A wave of disbelief crashed over me, leaving me breathless. What was he talking about? How could I possibly belong to him?

Matthias shook his head, his voice trembling with a mix of confusion and anger. "There must be some mistake. Raphaella is my mate, my fiancée. She doesn’t belong to you."

Pierre let out a dark chuckle, his tone filled with terrifying certainty. "There’s no mistake. Raphaella belongs to me, and anyone who dares to stand in my way will die by my hand."

I could feel my heart pounding wildly in my chest as Matthias turned to his family, silently seeking support. They were the strongest in our pack—warriors, protectors. Surely they would stand by him and defend me. But when I looked at them, my blood ran cold.

Fear.

I saw fear in their eyes.

Matthias’ father, the former Alpha, paled as he met Pierre’s gaze. His mother took a step back, clutching at her chest as though the mere sight of Pierre had drained all the strength from her. And then, to my horror, Matthias hesitated. He looked back at me, then at Pierre, and I saw the cracks in his resolve.

"Matthias?" I whispered, barely able to speak as dread gripped my throat. "What are you doing?"

He didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at me.

Instead, he turned to Pierre, his voice shaking. "I-if you want her, then we won’t stand in your way."

I felt the ground drop out from beneath me, my legs threatening to give way. "What?" I choked out, unable to believe what I was hearing. This was my fiancé, the man I had trusted, the man who was supposed to protect me! But in the face of danger, he was giving me up without a fight.

Pierre’s smile widened, his dark satisfaction evident. He took a step closer, his presence dominating the room, while Matthias and his family retreated in fear. I could hardly breathe.

"I won’t risk the safety of my pack to protect a woman like you, Raphaella. You know what’s at stake," Matthias coldly said.

A woman like me. The words struck me harder than any blow could have. My breath caught in my throat as I tried to process what he had just said. Matthias, the man I had been ready to marry, the man who was supposed to love and protect me, was abandoning me.

My mind raced, trying to grasp the reality of the situation. I had always known I wasn’t the perfect choice for an Alpha’s wife. I was an orphan, after all, without the noble lineage that his family prized so much. But I thought our bond would be stronger than this.

"Matthias, I—" I started, my voice cracking as I reached out for him, desperate to find some trace of the man I thought he was. But he stepped away from me, shaking his head.

"It’s not personal, Raphaella," he said, his tone cold and detached. "But I have a responsibility to my pack. The Lycan King wants you. I can’t put everyone else in danger just to save one person. Especially someone like you."

Tears pricked my eyes, blurring my vision. "Someone like me?" I repeated my voice barely above a whisper. "I thought you loved me... I thought we were—"

"Don’t make this harder than it has to be," he cut me off, his expression hardening. "You’re an orphan, Raphaella. You don’t have the status or the power to stand against someone like Pierre Grassi. If I defy him, it could mean the end of our entire pack. You understand that, don’t you?"

I shook my head, disbelief mingling with the growing sense of betrayal. How could he say this?

"You see?" Pierre murmured in my ear, his voice as smooth and venomous as a snake. "They’ve already given up on you."

I tried to pull away, trying to escape his grip, but his strength was overwhelming. "Matthias!" I screamed, my voice cracking with desperation, but he just stood there, paralyzed by fear, watching as Pierre took me away.

My heart shattered at that moment. The man I thought loved me, was willing to let me go to save his own skin. The realization hit me like a dagger pierced into my chest.

"Don’t worry, Raphaella," Pierre said softly, dragging me toward the exit as the room stood frozen in terror. "You’ll be much safer with me."

Tears blurred my vision as I struggled in Pierre's hold. I couldn’t believe it—my fiancé, my pack, the people who had promised to love and protect me, had all abandoned me in the blink of an eye.

I sat in the corner of the cold, opulent room, staring blankly at the large window, the moonlight casting long shadows across the floor. Pierre’s mansion felt like a prison. Every luxurious detail, every silk sheet and velvet curtain, was a mockery of the freedom I had lost. I wasn’t Raphaella, the strong, independent woman I once thought I was—I was nothing more than a caged bird, a possession.

I had refused everything he offered me. Food, clothes, comforts—none of it mattered. I wanted nothing from him. Every time I looked at Pierre, the man who had ruined my life, it felt like my heart was being crushed under the weight of his obsession. He could have anything he wanted in this world, but for some reason, he wanted me.

There was a soft knock at the door before Pierre entered, his presence filling the room as usual. He was dressed in his usual tailored suit, looking every bit the powerful Lycan King that he was. But in his eyes, there was something else—a vulnerability I hadn’t noticed before. He approached slowly as if I might bolt if he moved too quickly.

“Raphaella...” His voice was low, almost tender, but I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t.

“I’m not hungry,” I said coldly, keeping my gaze firmly fixed on the floor.

He sighed deeply, as if my defiance pained him, and stepped closer. “I didn’t come here to force you to eat,” he said. “I came to talk.”

“Talk?” I finally snapped, looking up at him, my eyes burning with fury. “There’s nothing to talk about, Lycan King. You took everything from me. What more could you possibly want?”

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he was silent. Then he spoke, his voice low but intense, as if he was baring something deeply personal. “I’m in love with you, Raphaella. I have been for longer than you know. I never wanted to hurt you. All I wanted was for you to be mine.”

I stared at him, disbelief flooding my veins. “Love?” I spat. “This is love? You call dragging me away from my wedding, locking me up in your mansion like some prisoner! You don’t even know what love is!”

Pierre’s eyes darkened, but there was a desperation in them, a rawness that I had never seen before. “I rejected my fated mate for you,” he said, stepping closer, his voice breaking slightly. “Do you know what that means? I chose you. I could’ve had a life with the woman who was destined for me, but I didn’t want her. I wanted you.”

His confession hung in the air like a heavy cloud, but it didn’t move me. If anything, it made the bitterness in my chest burn hotter.

“Do you think that makes this better?” I asked, my voice trembling with anger. “Do you think I care that you rejected your fated mate? I don’t. I never asked for this, Pierre. I never wanted you. I regret ever saving you.”

The words left my mouth before I could stop them, but I didn’t want to take them back. I wanted him to feel the pain I felt. I wanted him to know how much I despised him for ruining my life.

For a moment, Pierre stood there, frozen, his face unreadable. Then, slowly, his expression twisted with rage, his fists clenching at his sides. For a second, I thought he might strike me, and part of me almost wished he would. It would have been easier than this—easier than seeing the raw hurt flash in his eyes.

But he didn’t. He turned abruptly, his back rigid, his breathing heavy. “You saved me,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, “but you’ll never understand what it feels like to want someone so badly it consumes you. I’ve done everything for you, and still... it’s not enough.”

His words hit me, but I refused to let them sink in. I was too angry, too hurt. I turned away from him, staring at the window again, unwilling to cry in front of him.

“I will never love you,” I said, my voice barely audible but firm. “No matter what you do.”

There was silence for a long moment, and then I heard his footsteps storming toward the door. He stopped just before leaving, his voice hard and cold.

“You’ll come to understand one day, Raphaella. I won’t hurt you, but don’t think for a second that I’ll let you go.”

With that, he slammed the door behind him, leaving me alone in the suffocating silence.

As I sat there, my heart had a heavy weight in my chest, I felt more trapped than ever. No matter how much I resisted, no matter how much I fought, Pierre Grassi wasn’t going to let me go whether I liked it or not.

I sat in the corner of my room, staring at the untouched tray of food. I hadn’t eaten in days, not that it mattered. Pierre’s servants had tried everything—begging, pleading, offering me all sorts of delicacies—but I refused every bite. I didn’t care if I starved. Maybe that would be the one thing I had control over.

There was a soft knock at the door, followed by muffled whispers outside. I ignored it, assuming it was another servant, another futile attempt to get me to eat. I wasn’t interested in playing along with their charade.

The door creaked open, and I glanced over, expecting the usual hesitant face. But when I saw who stepped into the room, my heart nearly stopped.

“Raphaella,” a familiar voice said softly.

I blinked, unsure if I was hallucinating. Standing in the doorway, dressed in simple but elegant clothing, was a figure I thought I’d never see again.

“Davina?” I whispered, my voice barely audible, as if saying her name too loudly might cause her to vanish. I scrambled to my feet, my heart racing. “How… how are you here? I thought—”

“You thought I was dead,” Davina finished for me, her tone cool. She stepped closer, her eyes flicking briefly to the untouched food before settling back on me. “You thought I died in the pack war.”

I nodded, still stunned. “I mourned your death. Everyone said you didn’t make it, that you were caught in the attack. I never... I never thought I’d see you again.”

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Well, here I am.”

For a moment, I couldn’t move. The joy, the relief, the disbelief—it all washed over me in a tidal wave. My twin sister, the one person I had loved more than anyone else in the world, was alive. I rushed toward her, throwing my arms around her in a tight embrace.

“I can’t believe it,” I said, tears filling my eyes. “I thought I’d lost you forever.”

But as I held her, something felt off. Davina’s body was stiff in my arms, her embrace cold and unfeeling. Slowly, I pulled back, searching her face for the warmth, the love we used to share. But her eyes—those eyes that mirrored my own—were distant, almost calculating.

“I’ve been here for a while,” she said, her voice oddly flat. “Pierre brought me back after the war. Maybe because he thought I was you.”

Pierre. Of course. My joy faltered slightly at the mention of his name. What was Davina doing here? Why hadn’t she reached out to me sooner?

“I didn’t know…” I said softly. “Why didn’t you—”

“I didn’t want to overwhelm you,” she interrupted, her smile still not touching her eyes. “I know you’ve had a lot to deal with.”

I stepped back, studying her carefully. Something about this reunion felt wrong, but I couldn’t place what it was. Still, I was so relieved to see her that I pushed the doubt aside.

“I’m so happy you’re alive,” I said, trying to hold onto the joy. “I’ve missed you so much.”

She gave a small, dismissive nod. “I’m here now. And Pierre asked me to take care of you.”

Her words jolted me. “Take care of me? What do you mean?”

Davina’s eyes narrowed slightly, but her expression remained carefully controlled. “You haven’t been eating, Raphaella. Pierre’s worried about you. He thought maybe you’d listen to me.”

I frowned, confusion swirling in my mind. Pierre had sent her? Why? And why had she agreed?

“I don’t need Pierre to send anyone to take care of me,” I said, the bitterness in my voice returning. “I don’t need anything from him.”

Davina’s smile turned sharp, almost mocking. “You always were stubborn.” She gestured to the tray of food. “But you need to take care of yourself. I can’t let you waste away like this.”

I looked at the food, then back at her. Something about her tone made me uneasy, but I couldn’t understand why. This was my sister. The one person I should be able to trust. But why did it feel like something had shifted between us?

“I’m not hungry,” I said quietly, turning away from the tray.

Davina sighed as if she were disappointed. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden harshness in her voice. When I turned to look at her, her expression was calm again, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was lurking beneath the surface.

“I’m just trying to help you,” she said sweetly, but the warmth I had once known in her voice was gone.

“Why are you really here, Davina?” I asked. “Why didn’t you come to me sooner?”

Her eyes met mine, and for the first time, I saw it—the flicker of resentment, of something darker.

“You wouldn’t understand,” she said softly, her voice dripping with something like venom.

I took a step back, my heart pounding in my chest. I had been so elated to see her, so relieved, but now I felt a cold dread creeping in. Davina wasn’t the same, and I had no idea what she had become in my absence. Nonetheless, she was still my sister and I knew she wouldn't harm me.

Unaware of the hatred simmering just beneath the surface, I whispered, “Well, I guess it doesn't matter now. I’m so glad you’re back.”