Lyra
My knees buckled under the weight of his absolute dominance, his mouth crushing against mine with a violent, bruising hunger that tasted far more like punishment than desire.
Every second of the forced kiss was choked with his frustration, his raw fury, and his terrifying need to possess.
It suffocated my senses, drowning out whatever fragile strength I had left.
My arms dropped limp at my sides, shuddering, my body feeling as though it would crumble to dust beneath his iron hold.
Yet even as he consumed my lips, even as his Alpha hold wrapped around my throat like an invisible collar, one single thought beat violently against my ribs: I am not staying in this nightmare.
I was not born to spend my life locked in a cage forged of wolf blood, political rank, and broken fate.
I refused to let sacred magic shackle me like a dog to the mercy of men who viewed my soul as trash.
I would never belong to them.
Not today.
Not ever.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow night was the night—the absolute last chance I would ever have to run.
Kael pulled his head back sharply, as though he had suddenly grown bored, as though using my mouth was nothing more than a momentary distraction.
His amber eyes burned with a dark, mocking glint, his mouth curving into a vicious smirk.
I stood frozen on trembling legs, my breath coming in short gasps, his taste still lingering on my lips.
He let out a low, gravelly chuckle—a sound so full of cruelty it made my skin crawl.
“Pathetic,” he purred, the word slicing into my heart like a serrated blade.
“You couldn’t even manage to pass a simple test of willpower.”
A test?
My throat closed up.
He forced himself on me as a test?
Who in the name of the Moon Goddess tests a person’s dignity by stealing a kiss?
Who measures strength by shattering someone’s soul and digging their fingers into the wound?
My mind spun out of control.
I stared up at him, my face twisted in a mixture of raw horror and an anger I didn’t dare let escape my lips.
I couldn’t trust my own voice.
I knew if I opened my mouth, what came out wouldn’t be words—it would be a blood-curdling scream.
Or a pathetic sob.
“Now get on your knees and earn your keep,” he commanded casually, making a lazy gesture toward the mess scattered across the floorboards.
“Scrub every square inch of this room.”
And just like that, I was tossed aside.
A servant.
Dirt beneath his boots.
Swallowing down the scalding bile in my throat, I moved without uttering a single sound.
Protesting was useless.
Words were just wind; their iron grip was absolute.
I dropped to my knees, my hands trembling violently as I began gathering discarded clothes, discarded papers, and fallen pillows—anything to keep my eyes fixed on the floor so I wouldn’t have to look at him.
The heavy double doors swung open moments later, and Selene glided into the suite.
Perfect timing, as if drawn in by his arrogance.
“Kael, darling, where have you been hiding?” she pouted, her sweet tone dropping like honey over broken glass.
“I’ve been looking all over the estate for you.”
She slid her slender arms around his waist, and Kael turned to her as if she were the only light in the world.
Before she could even finish her sentence, he caught her by the hips and pulled her onto his lap like she belonged there—as if the girl kneeling at his feet hadn’t just been crushed against his mouth seconds earlier.
Selene let out a soft laugh, delighted by the public display of affection, and shifted her hips against him, teasing him, marking her territory.
Kael let out a low, throaty moan, completely unbothered by my presence on the floor.
My heart gave a sickening twist, so violent I thought it might stop beating entirely.
The pain was brutal, sharp—a poison cocktail of jealousy, utter humiliation, and hollow regret.
They were already engaged.
Already planning their kingdom.
Already living out the blessed life fate had originally promised to me.
“My love,” Selene purred, resting her cheek against his jawline, “my birthday is tomorrow…
and I was thinking, shouldn’t we finally pick a date for our wedding?”
Wedding.
The word struck me like a physical blow to the chest.
The ink on their betrothal wasn’t even dry, and she was already rushing to lock him into an unbreakable vow.
I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing my gaze strictly toward the dark wood of the floorboards.
If I looked at them for another second, my stomach would turn itself inside out.
“Now that’s a thought,” Kael mused, his voice laced with playful amusement.
Then, as if suddenly remembering the servant on the floor, he glanced down at me.
“What do you think, Lyra?
Why don’t you select the date for our ceremony?”
My entire body went dead rigid.
Pick a date?
Was my agony nothing more than a game to them?
Did they truly expect me to choose the exact calendar day my fated mate would stand before the altar and pledge his life to my sister?
Before the wave of nausea could pass, the doors creaked open again, and both Lucien and Ronan stepped into the room.
Their voices merged into a terrifying, synchronized echo:
“Yes, Lyra—pick the date for our wedding!”
I clamped my jaw shut, a bitter, silent laugh echoing in my head.
Hadn’t they inflicted enough suffering?
Was there still some small piece of my dignity they hadn’t managed to grind beneath their boots?
I dragged my head up, forcing my trembling features into a cold mask of absolute calm, and spat out words that scorched my throat on the way out.
“Why don’t you speed things up?” I said, my voice sharp and deadly quiet.
An instant, heavy silence fell over the suite.
Their confident smirks faltered, their eyes widening slightly as the color drained from their faces.
They clearly hadn’t anticipated me opening my mouth at all.
“I mean,” I continued smoothly, keeping my tone completely even, “there’s no reason to drag out the obvious.
You are Alphas, and my twin sister deserves a grand celebration.
You should hold the ceremony the very day after her birthday.”
The room froze solid.
The arrogant satisfaction on their faces shattered into pieces.
But I didn’t care.
Because on that day, I wouldn’t be anywhere near this castle.
Not a single one of them spoke.
“If you will excuse me, Alphas,” I murmured, maintaining an unbroken composure even as every nerve ending screamed at me to bolt.
I offered the smallest, most dismissive bow expected of a servant, turning sharply on my heel to reach for the brass door latch—my single lifeline out of this hell.
My heart hammered frantically against my ribs, begging me to run, to sprint anywhere that didn’t smell of their scent and their claim.
“We didn’t give you permission to leave,” Kael’s voice sliced through the heavy quiet like a blade.
I stopped dead in my tracks.
Of course.
It couldn’t ever be that simple.
Slowly, reluctantly, I turned back around.
Kael leaned back into the leather chair, but the sudden dark glint in his eyes told me everything: he lived for this.
The control, the cruelty, the absolute authority over my broken spirit.
“The wedding will be held the day after Selene’s birthday,” he declared, his eyes narrowing in dark victory.
“And you will be in charge of planning every detail of it.”
The air stalled inside my lungs.
“You will ensure that nothing short of perfection takes place,” he continued, his tone thick with condescension.
“Every flower, every seating arrangement, every bow must be immaculate.”
Ronan let out a dark chuckle, leaning against the doorframe with a dangerous, predatory glint in his eyes.
“And don’t forget—you will be the one dressing the bride.
Make sure she looks like the Luna she was born to be.” His glare locked onto my face, pinning me to the spot.
“And you will stand behind her, lifting the train of her dress as she walks down the aisle to us.”
Lift her train.
Walk behind her.
Serve as her shadow while she takes my mates.
A painful knot tied itself in my stomach, but I swallowed the reaction down into the dark.
I refused to grant them the pleasure of seeing me flinch.
Lucien stepped forward, joining the torment.
“And the one who presents the rings to us at the altar,” he added with a soft, venomous smile, “will be you as well, Lyra.
Prepare yourself.” He glanced at his brothers, a shared look of triumph passing between them that cut deeper than any whip.
“It really will be the happiest day of our lives.”
My ears began to ring.
My mind went completely blank.
For a long moment, I simply stood there—motionless, silent, numb—as if the floor beneath my feet had dissolved into nothingness.
Every phrase was a customized dagger.
Every assignment, another twist of the blade into my chest.
But then, out of the deep ashes of my despair, something entirely unexpected ignited: not fresh agony, but a tiny, blinding spark of absolute relief.
Because I wouldn’t be here.
They had no idea that every single demand leaving their lips was nothing more than spoken wind.
Every humiliation, every duty, every grand instruction would rot in this room, completely unfulfilled.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow night, the cage doors would open.
And with that reminder, an unshakeable armor of peace wrapped around my heart.
My lips curved upward into a subtle, terrifyingly sweet smile—the purest, most delicious irony I had ever tasted.
“Yes, Alphas,” I answered softly, meeting their arrogant gazes one by one.
“I will ensure that everything is absolute perfection.”
Not one of them caught the faint flutter of dark excitement concealed beneath my words.
Not one of them looked closely enough to see through the mask.
They simply nodded in smug satisfaction, utterly convinced that I was still a broken dog waiting for their commands.
But my spirit had already escaped.
I turned once more and walked out of the suite, my spine straight, my chin held high, shutting the thick door behind me before their suffocating scent could poison my lungs for another second.