Chapter 3

JACKLA

I stood naked before the tall mirror, morning light spilling over my skin. The girl staring back wasn’t unfamiliar, but she wasn’t me either.

My body had changed. My breasts were fuller now, my waist narrower, my hips softer, heavier. Even the muscles in my thighs looked sculpted, shaped by weeks of training.

My skin looked softer and glowed warmer, as if someone had lit a candle beneath it. And then there was the hair. 

A curtain of thick red waves tumbled down my back, brushing just above my waist. Not a trace of the blonde strands I once had.

They had made me beautiful.

But not for me.

For him.

For a man I was being handed over like a gift wrapped in flesh and silk. I didn’t hate what I saw. That was the part that scared me the most. I hated why I was made to look this way.

I hated that my beauty, whatever it was now, wasn’t mine to use, to enjoy, or to protect. It belonged to a monster I hadn’t even met yet. My stomach twisted. I pressed both hands against it, trying to quiet the storm.

Every inch of me had been measured and reshaped. My body ached from drills, my skin stung from perfume oils, and my tongue was bitten raw from silence.

“He likes obedience.”

“He doesn’t tolerate mistakes.”

“You don’t speak unless spoken to.”

Four weeks of this. Until I barely remembered the sound of my own voice.

“What the hell is keeping you, Jackla?” The door burst open like a storm, slamming against the wall. I didn’t turn. I didn’t need to. His fury filled the air like heat before fire.

“You’re already keeping Alpha Morano waiting on the first day you meet him,” he roared.

“I don’t care. If he wants me as his wife, then he’ll wait,” I said quietly, though my voice burnt as the words left me. My step fatherr’s boots thudded across the floor as he stormed toward me. 

His hand shot up, trembling with rage, but he stopped just before striking me. I turned to face him fully, naked and unafraid. “You still haven’t told me why I’m marrying this man.” 

He laughed coldly. “Because Morano’s dangerous. Too powerful to fight, too unpredictable to ignore.” His eyes narrowed.

“But not smart enough to suspect a woman in his bed. You’ll be more than a wife, Jackla. You’ll be my eyes inside the Wolf’s Den pack.

The words hit me like a slap. “Spy on him?”

“Your role is clear. Gather names, codes, and weaknesses. Get close enough to hurt him without ever lifting a weapon.” My skin prickled, not from the cold, but from the weight of what he was asking.

“I’m not sending you to be loved,” he added. “Get ready in five.” Then he turned and left, the door slamming behind him. I stood there until the silence pressed into my chest. Then I let the tears fall. 

The ones I had been holding since the moment I realised freedom was never meant for me. They came slow and warm, sliding down my face as my chest ached so hard it hurt to breathe. I missed Ryan. 

I missed the way he smiled when I burnt breakfast, the way his arms made me feel like the world couldn’t touch me. Even after weeks of mourning, he still haunted every inch of me. I could still feel his blood on my hands.

I wiped the tears away, forcing myself to stand straight, pretending it didn’t matter. But every breath felt heavy, like my heart was being crushed under a secret I didn’t choose.

I turned to the wardrobe. The leather outfit Jayla picked clung to my body like a stranger’s skin. My reflection looked nothing like me anymore.

I walked downstairs slowly. Jayla was already waiting in the living room, lounging like a queen. “How do you look so much like me,” she said with a laugh, “but can never be me?”

“Not like I wanted this,” I muttered. She only smiled. I gave her one last look. One last glance at the girl who got to choose.

Then I walked out the door, feeling the weight of every step. The cab ride was quiet, but my thoughts weren’t. My fingers twisted in my lap until the car stopped.

I stepped out, staring at the tall building ahead. My father’s words echoed in my head as I knocked softly.

“Come in.”

His voice. Low, deep, dangerous.

I stepped inside…and froze. He sat in a wide armchair, shirt half open, legs spread lazily. A girl knelt between them, sucking the life out of his manhood with her head moving in slow rhythm.

His jade-green eyes lifted to meet mine.

“You’re late. At least you made an effort to look good.” He said. I stared at the ink crawling over his chest, his shoulders wide and carved like stone. 

His lips were full and perfect, but the words that came out of them could slice through skin. He was beautiful in the most dangerous way. After he was done with his slut, he dismissed her.

“Come here. Sit.”

I sat across from him in the quiet room, fingers pressing against my thighs to stay still under his stare. Morano didn’t speak right away. He just sipped from a glass of something dark, the light glinting off the rings on his fingers.

His gaze was steady, almost cruel in how calmly he studied me. “I hope you’re not planning to show up late tomorrow,” he finally said, his voice smooth but carrying an edge that sliced through the air.

“Tomorrow?” I repeated carefully.

“The wedding,” he said, lips curling into a faint smirk. “Or are you getting cold feet, cara mia? That would be... unfortunate.”

I shook my head quickly. “No, I’ll be ready.”

“Good.” He set his glass down and leaned forward. 

“Because everyone will be watching. Including enemies.” A chill ran down my spine as he stood. His height alone made the room feel smaller. 

“There’s something I want to confirm before tomorrow,” he said.

“What is it?”

His smirk deepened. “Let’s just say I want to see if the woman I’m marrying is as fierce as I was told.” He turned toward the door without waiting for an answer. “Follow me.”

I hesitated for only a heartbeat before standing. Two guards followed as he led me through a narrow hallway that smelt of damp concrete and metal. 

When the door opened, I froze.

A man was tied to a pole, face swollen, shirt soaked in blood that dripped onto the floor in thick drops. My throat tightened. When his head lifted weakly, my knees nearly gave out.

It was Damon…one of Ryan’s friends.

“What are you doing here?” I whispered, crouching beside him. My hand trembled as it brushed his cheek. His head leaned into my palm like it was the only comfort he had felt in days.

Morano smiled faintly and took a slow step forward. “This man and his crew murdered my father two years ago. The Grey Werewolf Hunters. They deserve to die.”

Damon recognised me but was too weak to speak.

The door opened again, and more bodies were dragged in… bloody, bound, barely breathing. My breath hitched when I saw Willow, her face bruised, eyes half closed. I had not known she was one of them.

“Thank you and your father for bringing these werewolf hunters to me. Heard you took out the leader yourself. Good job.” Morano said softly.

I couldn’t breathe. If I screamed, he’d know too much. If I stayed silent, I’d never forgive myself. And just as I opened my mouth.

He raised his gun.

One shot. Then another. And another.

Blood splattered the floor. I couldn’t even move. My world tilted as the echoes of the shots filled the room.

His gaze slides to me, flat and expectant. He tossed the gun at my feet.

“Your turn, cara mia. Shoot the girl.”