Three days later, the words still refused to settle.
She was getting married?
No matter how she looked at it.
She was doomed.
Rosella sat in the back of the black car, fingers tight around the strap of her bag, watching Bloodmoon territory disappear behind her.
Elias sat beside her in silence.
The rest of the small entourage followed in the vehicles behind.
She was on her way to meet the Alpha of SilverFang—the man everyone kept calling her future husband and she still barely understood how it had happened so fast.
One moment she was drowning in a lake, the next she was expected to smile and accept a political marriage to a stranger in a body that wasn’t even hers.
The diary in her bag felt heavier than it should, she had found it two nights ago, hidden under a pile of old clothes in the closet.
The last entry was only three words written in sharp handwriting: Marriage.
Freedom.
Revenge.
Whatever Colette had planned, Rosella was now walking straight into it with almost none of the original memories to guide her.
The deeper parts of Colette’s life had gone quiet, as if the other woman had decided to stop helping.
Rosella exhaled slowly and forced herself to look forward.
She had already died once.
She could survive a forced marriage long enough to find a way home and make the people who killed her pay.
She had to.
The gates of SilverFang opened, and the difference was immediate.
Where Bloodmoon felt dark and heavy, SilverFang was open and meticulously kept.
Tall trees lined the long driveway, the grass was perfect.
Even the flower beds looked arranged with care, guards in matching black uniforms with silver wolf emblems stood at every post, disciplined and watchful.
As the car stopped, Rosella noticed how several of the guards straightened the moment they saw her.
One younger wolf actually took a full step back before forcing himself to hold position.
Another’s hand drifted toward the hilt of his sword before he caught himself and dropped it.
Elias opened her door.
The moment she stepped out, the air seemed to thin.
Conversations near the entrance died instantly.
A few nobles who had been waiting lowered their heads deeper than necessary, eyes carefully fixed on the ground.
Rysand, a broad-shouldered man with greying hair and a black Beta cape, stepped forward and bowed lower than protocol strictly required.
“Welcome to SilverFang, Your Grace.
I am Rysand, The Lycan king Henrik’s Beta.
The king is expecting you.” “Thank you,” Rosella said.
“It’s good to be here.” Rysand blinked, just once, as if the polite reply had caught him off guard.
Then he recovered and gestured for them to follow, though she noticed he kept a careful half-step more distance than usual.
Inside, the pack house was filled with plants and soft light.
Elias walked slightly closer to her than before, his posture tense.
Rosella glanced at him but said nothing.
She needed to stay focused.
The doors to the main hall opened.
A man stood at the far end.
Tall.
Broad-shouldered, black hair.
A calm, unreadable handsome face that somehow still commanded the entire room.
He wore a black tunic under a silver-trimmed coat.
He wasn’t doing anything dramatic, he didn’t need to but the space simply seemed to rearrange itself around him.
Henrik Nightbane.
Their eyes met.
For a moment neither of them spoke.
Rosella felt a strange, distant apathy that did not belong to her—something cold and assessing mixed with her own rising nerves.
This was the man she was supposed to marry.
The man who would decide whether she lived long enough to take her revenge… or whether the curse would finish what Alaric started.
Henrik’s gaze flicked briefly to the bag in her hand, then back to her face.
“You’re finally here,” he said.
“Yes.
Thank you for the invitation.” She offered a small smile.
“I’m glad to be here.” A faint crease appeared between his brows.
He glanced at Rysand, then back at her, as if something about her tone did not match the woman he had expected.
“Of course.
I am honored to receive you.
I trust the journey was pleasant.” “Pleasant isn’t the word I’d use for twenty-four hours on the road,” she said before she could stop herself, “but I suppose it’s worth it for my future husband.” The room went completely silent.
Henrik stared at her like she had just committed a social crime.
Several of the SilverFang nobles looked faintly horrified.
Even Elias shifted beside her.
Rosella’s stomach dropped.
“That… was a joke,” she added quickly.
Henrik continued to look at her for another long second.
Then the corner of his mouth moved in something that might have been an awkward attempt at a smile.
“I see.
Of course.” Rosella wanted the floor to open and swallow her.
Clearly, whatever version of Colette these people knew did not make jokes.
“You must be hungry,” Henrik said, recovering.
“Allow me to take you to dinner.
We can speak properly afterward.” She nodded, this time keeping her expression carefully neutral.
He offered his hand.
She took it.
His palm was rough with calluses, the hands of someone who still trained.
The touch reminded her, unexpectedly, of her own father.
Dinner was formal and quiet, the food was the first normal meal she had genuinely enjoyed since waking in this body.
When a maid poured her wine, Rosella automatically smiled and said thank you.
The girl froze, eyes wide, then practically fled.
Rosella looked around the table, Several people were watching her with poorly hidden surprise.
Elias’s expression was carefully blank, but she could feel his attention.
She lowered her gaze to her plate and forced herself to eat like nothing was wrong.
After the meal, Henrik led her and Elias to his study.
The room was filled with plants and botanical paintings.
“You must love plants,” Rosella said, trying to fill the silence.
“My late wife was a botanist,” he answered quietly.
“She cared about them a great deal.” “I’m sorry for your loss.” “Thank you.” He gestured toward the chairs.
“Now, about the arrangement—” A small voice cut through the hallway.
“Daddy!” A little girl with soft black curls burst into the room and launched herself at Henrik.
He caught her easily, lifting her into his arms and pressing a kiss to her cheek.
“I thought I told you not to disturb me today.” “But I want to play with you,” she pouted.
Rosella’s chest tightened, In her old life she had spent years helping at the orphanage her mother once supported.
The sight of a child this open and trusting pulled at something deep.
Then the little girl turned her head and saw her.
Laura went still.
Silver-grey eyes—the exact shade of her father’s moved slowly over Rosella’s face.
There was no fear, only careful, serious assessment.
She did not smile.
Rosella offered a gentle smile.
“Hello.” Laura immediately buried her face against Henrik’s shoulder.
“I apologize,” Henrik said.
“She doesn’t like strangers.” “It’s fine.” Rosella was about to look away when she felt a small tug on her sleeve.
Laura had reached out, her tiny fingers were wrapped around the fabric of Rosella’s dress.
Henrik looked down at his daughter in clear surprise.
“Laura?” The little girl ignored him.
She kept her hold on Rosella’s sleeve and finally lifted her head again.
“You’re pretty,” she said.
Rosella blinked.
“Thank you.” Laura studied her for another moment, then reached both arms toward her.
“Can you carry me?” The room went quiet.
Even Elias looked startled.
Henrik stared at his daughter as if he no longer recognized her.
“She’s never done that before,” he said under his breath.
Rosella’s throat felt tight.
“Do you want me to carry you?” Laura nodded.
Henrik hesitated only a second before carefully transferring his daughter into Rosella’s arms.
The moment Laura settled against her chest, the little girl relaxed completely, her small body went soft and trusting.
Rosella’s arms came up around her on instinct, She smelled like flowers and something sweet.
Something warm and unfamiliar spread through Rosella’s chest—the same strange sense of safety she had felt when Martha hugged her, only stronger.
“Hello, little one,” she whispered.
Laura rested her head on Rosella’s shoulder and asked, in the smallest voice, “Are you staying?” Rosella’s heart squeezed.
She looked up and met Henrik’s eyes.
For the first time since arriving at SilverFang, she had no idea what to say.