My cheeks blaze with embarrassment and a painful sense of ignorance. It turns out that everyone else was well aware of my fate, leaving me in the dark until now. But that changes at this moment.

With unwavering determination, I push open the door to the Alpha's house, not pausing for a moment, and make my way toward the stairs, knowing his office is up there. I march down the hallway, my footsteps echoing, until I'm abruptly brought to a halt by the sound of heated voices.

"That lunatic is still out there! How can I assume control of him lurking, waiting to pounce?" I recognize the whiny yet self-satisfied voice of the infamous Wyatt Swelter.

Since I need to speak with him anyway, loitering by the slightly open door shouldn't be that wrong, should it? I've never been one to shy away from eavesdropping, so what's different now?

That's my rationale as I stealthily creep closer to the door, pressing my ear against the wall to let my heightened hearing work its magic.

"He's less likely to be a nuisance if we have two leaders. You already have a Luna in mind, right?" Alpha Matias's composed voice reaches my ears.

"I want Mackenzie," Wyatt promptly responds, causing me to struggle to suppress a gag. At the mere mention of my name, color drains from my face. "She's the one, and I've grown tired of waiting for both her and my title."

A deep hum follows, a sound Alpha Matias often makes when contemplating something. "Then wait no longer. We'll move the wedding up to Thursday. Since there's no mate bond to bind you, vows will suffice. Plus, it'll give you more time to get to know her. Perhaps even—"

"There won't be a wedding," I declare firmly, bursting into the room on a whim. There's no way I can stand out there, silently listening as my future is decided for me. I refuse to be a passive observer in my own life any longer.

Two pairs of eyes swivel in my direction. One belongs to Wyatt, a light blue that complements his neatly combed black hair. The other pair, a darker blue, belongs to his father, whose once-jet-black hair is now peppered with gray—a testament to the stress that accompanies his position.

"Pardon me?" Alpha Matias rises from his leather office chair, standing tall with squared shoulders. One thing is undeniable: he's accustomed to looking down on people, not the other way around. He levels that same disapproving gaze he's perfected over the years, capable of making even the proudest wolves feel shame.

I swallow hard, struggling to keep my attitude in check. I've spoken out against him one too many times and witnessed the consequences. Yet maintaining this newfound resolve is proving to be an immense challenge.

"I won't marry him or anyone else," I seethe again, planting my feet firmly. Surely, he doesn't think he can force me into this. There must be a line he won't cross. There has to be. He's held control over my life for so long, but this... this is too much. I refuse to accept it.

To my right, Wyatt lets out a frustrated moan. "Why can't you just cooperate for once?" he whines, glaring at me. "I thought we were past this. I can give you everything you want! Who turns down the title of Luna?" He turns to his father, pleading yet demanding with his eyes for support.

He hasn't grown up at all. He's still the same child who threatened to throw a tantrum if denied dessert or who menaced me with finger amputation if I dared to touch one of his forgotten toys.

"You can't give me anything, or you wouldn't have treated me like this my entire life," I shoot back, feeling a growl building deep within my chest. Wyatt has always regarded himself as royalty, with everyone else beneath him. But in my eyes, a king without a crown isn't a king at all.

Alpha Matias growls in response to my defiance. "Mind your tongue," he snaps before turning to his son, oozing confidence. "She'll obey me."

He settles back into his chair, leaning back and studying me with a calculating gaze that reminds me of a snake slithering in the grass, its beady eyes fixated on its prey.

"Wouldn't you, Mackenzie?" he asks in that sickly sweet, ominous tone. I loathe that voice, that tone, with every fiber of my being. It turns my stomach more than the thought of a future with Wyatt.

I clench my jaw, my fists tightening. "And if I don't?"

Alpha Matias tilts his head slightly, a dark smile playing on his lips as he clasps his hands together. "Then you'll be locked up once more. You wouldn't want that, would you? I'd imagine it gets awfully lonely down there."

My blood turns to ice, and I suddenly feel a chill that goes bone-deep. It's as though I can already sense the cold stone against my skin and the deafening silence enveloping me.

I hide my fear behind a scoff, striving to maintain a facade of defiance, even as I'm inwardly on the verge of breaking down, dropping to my knees, and begging to retain my freedom.

"You wouldn't," I force my words to sound like a challenge, but deep inside, I feel like crumbling, like begging to keep my liberty.

Alpha Matias smiles again, his eyes gleaming with twisted amusement. "Oh, but I would."

He revels in this. There's no doubt about it; he derives pleasure from my predicament.

I find myself gazing down at my shoes, a surge of heat coloring my cheeks. It's humiliating how easily he can manipulate me with a single threat.

This can't be real...

"The wedding is set for Thursday," the Alpha's words cut through me like a chilling gust of wind, dispelling any hope that this might be a nightmare. "That should give you ample time. Now, off you go. I believe you have a ceremony to prepare for."

Of course, forced into an enAdkinsment, and I'm still the one tasked with arranging the party I want nothing to do with.

My feet move mechanically toward the door, eager to escape. However, not before I knock a potted plant off a nearby table. The crash of shattering clay echoes in the room's thick silence.

"Bitch," I mutter under my breath.

"What did you say?" Wyatt snaps, surprising me that he doesn't delegate this to his father either.

I consider offering a sarcastically sweet reply, but instead, I opt for honesty. There's no reason to hold my tongue any longer.

I pivot sharply on my heel to face him, locking eyes with him and delivering my words like venom-tipped arrows. "Bitch. That's what I said," I declare, loud and clear. "You're a damn bitch, and I fervently hope that one day your rotting, eyeless corpse is discovered floating in a river because the fish have already feasted on your eyes."

My skin feels like it's ablaze, and my lungs yearn for air. I mean every word I say, and my tone drips with not just hatred, but a seething, visceral loathing.

Without waiting to see if he'll further belittle me or if his father will condemn me to the depths again for my insolence, I slam the door behind me with enough force to leave a prominent crack across the wood.

Rather than returning to prepare for the party as ordered, I make a beeline for one of the small cabins in the village, heading straight to my bedroom, which resembles a loft.

Fairy lights twinkle along the tops of dark grey walls. The room bathes in natural light from a large window, adjacent to my bed. I flop onto it, burying myself in the sheets.

Just forget it. Forget everything.

Forgetting is always easier. Except this time, I can't chase away the dreadful thoughts.

The wedding is on Thursday. That leaves me with four days. Four days left of freedom. Four days left to figure out how to save myself.

Then, in a random recollection, I remember what Wyatt mentioned before I burst into the room.

"That lunatic is still out there! How can I assume control of him lurking, waiting to pounce?"

What lunatic was he referring to? And how does this relate to his urgent need for a Luna before becoming the Alpha?

The sinking sun bathes the landscape in a dim, ethereal light, painting the bare trees and pristine snow-covered mountains with a serene, otherworldly glow. The cold air bites my skin, filling me with invigorating energy.

I tread along a path lightly dusted with snow, leading away from our quaint village and into the adjacent woods. Towering trees, still adorned with their autumn leaves despite the encroaching winter, encircle a clearing.

At the edge of the shadowy tree line stands Martha, surrounded by a cluster of girls, none of whom I've ever enAdkinsd in a conversation with. Their voices are hushed, barely above a whisper, signaling one thing: they're deep in gossip.

My curiosity piqued, I instinctively tuned in to eavesdrop.

"I've heard he's ruthless, a true monster with a wolf three times the size of any other Alpha," Morgan, a petite, bleach-blonde girl, whispers with wide eyes, her tone emphasizing the gravity of her words.

Her brunette companion shudders before contributing, "They say he's an absolute beast, committing mass murders whenever the mood strikes!" She suddenly lowers her voice even further, her words trembling, "Dear God, what if he comes here? Who knows where he is right now."

They exchange apprehensive glances, seeking reactions from one another.

Who in the world are they talking about, and why does it seem to make them so anxious?

As I draw nearer, a twig snaps beneath my heel, startling all of them, including Martha, who has always appeared fearless for as long as I've known her. Morgan even lets out a startled scream.

Their collective gaze fixates on me as if I were a harbinger of doom, their faces drained of color, and their mouths agape.

"Damn it, you can't do that!" Morgan scolds me, her accusatory tone slicing through the air. Something about her words strikes a nerve.

I narrow my eyes and purse my lips in a snarky expression. "If you're so frightened, why don't you choke on something other than fear?"

Morgan inhales sharply, taken aback. Maybe I went a tad too far, but I can't say I'm sorry. Wyatt has already frazzled my nerves for the day. Morgan stares at me like a fish out of water, struggling to find her words.

"You know what? Screw you," she spits before storming off, followed by the other four girls, who cast disdainful glares my way.

I brush off their departure and turn my attention back to my best friend, Martha, who remains standing with her back toward the trees.

"What was all that about?" I inquired, walking up to her and motioning back toward the group.

She isn't phased by the minor altercation between me and Morgan. At one point, she tried to teach me the art of keeping my inner thoughts to myself, but she never succeeded. Now, she doesn't even acknowledge my lack of a filter as she raises an eyebrow, her forehead creasing with curiosity.

"Haven't you heard?"

I shake my head, furrowing my brow. I need to know what's happening. People gossip all the time, but this feels different, laden with an unusual level of fear.

"They call him the Exiled Alpha," she pauses, gazing up at the darkening sky. "Damn, I've got to run. I'm already late."

Her sentences are hurried as she stoops to grab the strap of her purple backpack and swings it onto her back.

"Wait! What do you mean, Exiled-"

Before I can complete my question, she reaches out, gripping my shoulders firmly, locking eyes with me in an intense stare that renders me momentarily paralyzed.

"Listen to me, Mackenzie," she insists, squeezing my shoulders, her tone resolute. "I don't have time to explain right now, but just... don't venture off into the woods alone. I know you like to, but don't. Stay close to the pack. Do you understand?"

A shiver runs down my spine, one that isn't provoked by the cold. In that moment, all I can think is, what in the world is out there?

I don't comprehend. I have no clue about what she's talking about, except that it's perilous. But I nod nonetheless.

Seemingly satisfied with my response, she pulls me into a quick hug.

"Stay safe, bitch," she murmurs near my ear, her seriousness giving way to her usual playful demeanor.

She releases me and takes a step back, now wearing one of her trademark mischievous grins. Normally, that would comfort me, seeing her return to her usual self instead of issuing warnings. But it isn't this time. Her smile seems forced, incomplete.

"Sorry I can't stick around for the party. Looks like you'll have Wyatt all to yourself," she teases with sarcasm.

A surge of anger stabs at my gut, and I open my mouth, ready to unleash a tirade of profanities. However, I hold back when realization hits me.

She doesn't know.

She's unaware of the coerced enAdkinsment or impending wedding. If she knew, she would have told me. I'm certain of it. She would have confronted Wyatt, consequences be damned.

I muster a feeble smile in return, though it pales in comparison to her own.

Let her enjoy her moment. I think. My problems aren't hers.

"Yeah, whatever," I call after her as she recedes into the distance, "Just don't catch anything nasty."

She turns back briefly to stick her tongue out at me in a playful jest.

A heavy sigh escapes my lips as I turn and head back, passing by various people bustling about, most of them carrying ribbons and decorations.

I move past the industrious pack members, making my way back to my room.

If Wyatt or Matias expect me to prepare for the party that feels like a celebration of my own doom, they're sorely mistaken. What can they possibly do to me? Condemn me to a life of misery?

Oh, wait...