Chapter 2

JACKLA

After what felt like an eternity, I opened my eyes and realised my arms were tied, and a flickering bulb buzzed overhead, making everything look sickly yellow.

Jayla stepped into view with that same smug calm she wore like a second skin. She was dressed in black, like always. Every inch of her was perfect, from the gloves and boots to her sleek red hair tucked behind one ear.

The ropes dug deeper into my wrists each time I shifted, but I didn’t bother struggling anymore. My breath came out in quiet, shallow huffs, and the cold floor beneath my bare feet did nothing to stop the tremble in my bones. 

“I see you still haven’t learnt how to stay out of trouble,” she said, her voice smooth. I laughed under my breath, but it sounded dry and bitter. 

“And you still haven’t learnt how to stop spreading your legs for the men who raised us.” She blinked. For the tiniest second, her jaw tightened, but she was too good at hiding her emotions.

She stepped closer. “You’ve always been jealous of me,” she said softly. “Even as kids.” I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, sure. I’ve always dreamed of being the daughter who spread her thighs for her own step father and called it power.”

Her hand moved fast. Not a slap. Just a sharp tug to the side of my face as she grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head back. I hissed through clenched teeth but held her gaze. 

“You were always weak, Jackla. You ran away, remember? I stayed. I did what needed to be done.”

“Of course you did, because you liked it.” Her fingers curled tighter in my hair before she let go, smoothing her gloves like she hadn’t just tried to rip the scalp from my head.

I hated her. I hated how she always walked into a room like she owned it. Like nothing ever touched her. “Well, you’re getting married,” she said suddenly. The words landed like a stone in my stomach.

I stared at her, my voice breaking. “You just killed my husband, Jayla… why?” My voice cracked as the tears I’d been holding back spilt down my cheeks. “Why did you do it? What did he ever do to you?”

Jayla tilted her head, studying me like I was something pathetic. “You really want to know?” she asked quietly.

“Answer me!” I screamed, my chest shaking as I tried to pull free from the ropes. “He was innocent, Jayla! He didn’t deserve to die!”

Her lips twisted into a mocking smile. “Innocent? Ryan was a werewolf hunter.” My breath seized, and my chest squeezed so hard I thought my ribs would break. 

Ryan couldn’t be one of them. Not the man who held me like I was human, not the man who kissed my scars and promised forever. My heart wanted to scream it was a lie, but deep down, I felt it…the small things I’d ignored. 

The late nights. The calls he never explained. “Oh, you didn’t think he knew you were a werewolf? Oh please, Jackla. You’re not that dumb.”

I shook my head slowly. No. That couldn’t be true. I had hidden that part of me so carefully. He couldn’t have known. If he knew… then why did he still love me? Why did he hide me from his crew? 

Jayla crouched down in front of me, her grin stretching wider. “We wiped out all the werewolf hunters that kept disturbing us.” 

She tossed something onto the floor — a small silver pendant, cracked and smeared with dried blood. This was Ryan’s pendant.

“Ryan was their leader now,” Jayla said softly. “A new crew… hunters. After his father died, he took charge.”

My pulse froze. “No,” I whispered. “He didn’t tell you that part, did he?” she added. 

“That’s how we found you.”

My eyes darted to the folder in her hand. I could see names written in red ink, Ryan’s name among them…circled. 

“You’re going to take my place,” Jayla said, her tone calm but sharp enough to slice through air. 

“It’s already arranged. You’ll change your hair colour, learn to walk like me, and speak like me. Just until I finish my assignment.” 

“What kind of assignment?”

Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Let’s just say someone powerful is about to have an accident.”

“Oh, you mean until you finish licking Father’s boots and killing just to feel powerful?” Her eyes darkened. “Until I finish protecting the family.”

“The same family that forgot I existed?” I shot back. She didn’t answer. Instead, she folded her arms and tilted her head slightly. Jayla stepped closer until I could feel her breath. 

“You’re going to do it.” Her voice softens. 

“Father said so and deep down you want to belong. You always have.”

I looked away, but she had already seen the flicker in my eyes…the weakness I hated. The memory of when we were still little, sharing a bed and whispering secrets after nightmares. 

Before she changed. Before she became his sex toy. “Who is he?” I asked finally.

She waited a bit too long before saying, “Alpha Morano Salvatore.” The name made my stomach twist. I’d heard it whispered in fear. Ruthless. Cold. The kind of man who slit throats without blinking.

“I’m not marrying him. I won’t be a pawn in Father’s games. I’d rather die.”  

“Then die,” a deep voice echoed from the shadows. My body went still. Fiorello stepped out of the darkness, smooth and composed, his coat perfect as always. 

Jayla straightened instantly, her eyes lowered like a servant before her master. “You think this is about what you want, Jackla?” he said quietly, walking closer. “You think you matter enough to refuse?” 

He crouched to my level, his cold breath brushing my face. “It’s been years,” he murmured. “And yet here you are.”

“Didn’t exactly come back on my own,” I muttered.

Fiorello was a lord in the Crystal pack, and he married our mother for the power he thought ran in her blood. When she couldn’t give him children, he turned his cruelty into a habit.

“You always needed direction. Your sister understands duty, but you choose to run away.”

“I ran because I didn’t want to rot like you.” That wiped his smile away. He leaned closer, voice low and dangerous. “You will marry him. And if you even think of refusing—”

I met his eyes. “And if I don’t?”

Fiorello’s face was calm as he leaned closer. “You refuse, and I’ll burn Sister Maris’s convent to ash. The children will scream for you as the flames take them.” 

“You will not test me.”

That’s where I worked. “They have nothing to do with this,” I whispered. 

“Then don’t make them part of it.” He shrugged lightly.  Fiorello’s gaze swept over me like I was dirt on his shoes. “She’s thinner,” he said to Jayla. “Fix it. The Salvatores don’t marry strays.”

Jayla dropped a folder beside me. “You’ll be trained for the next few weeks. Eat better. Speak softer. Walk like a woman worth keeping. At least you get to mourn your little husband,” she mocked.

My fingers curled against the rope. I wanted to lunge at her, to claw her perfect face until she bled like he did. But all I could do was stare, shaking, choking on the ache that refused to leave my throat.

Fiorello gave me one last look. “Do this right, Jackla. For once in your life, be useful.” Then he turned and left, his footsteps fading like a curse.

“Don’t act like a victim. You always knew what this family was.” 

I stared at Jayla, my throat tight, the fire in my chest dimming into something heavy and cold. Because she was right.

And this time, I wouldn’t be running.

I’d be walking straight into the lion’s mouth…wearing my sister’s face.