Chapter Three

Sitting alone in the grand, dimly lit bedroom, Liliene finally pieced it all together. Her stepmother’s sudden, sickeningly sweet behavior that morning hadn't been a change of heart; it had been a curtain call. She had been playing nice to gloss over the ultimate betrayal. She had sold her. To an ‘Alpha?’ What on earth did that strange, terrifyingly handsome man mean by that?

"Miss?" a gentle voice pulled her from her spiraling thoughts, followed by three soft, rhythmic knocks on the half-open door.

Liliene turned and saw an older woman in a pristine maid's uniform standing in the doorway. She had been resting in this lavish suite ever since the butler escorted her upstairs, an order from the master of the house.

"Yes, Ma'am? How can I help you?" Liliene replied politely, instinctively shrinking a little.

"Oh, please, Miss, just call me Sylvia. I am the head housekeeper of the Walton estate," the older woman introduced herself with a warm, maternal smile. "May I please come in?"

Liliene’s body stiffened. ‘She’s asking for my permission?’ It was such a simple question—a basic courtesy—yet Liliene’s mind blanked. Years of trauma at the hands of her stepfamily had conditioned her to follow orders, not to grant them. She didn't know how to wield even a fraction of authority.

"Miss? Are you alright?" Sylvia asked gently, her eyes filled with patient understanding.

Liliene blinked rapidly, forcing a small, trembling smile. "Yes. P-Please, come in."

Sylvia stepped into the room, her presence instantly bringing a calming energy. "Would you allow me to help brush your hair?" she offered, gesturing to the velvet vanity chair.

"I... I would like that," Liliene whispered, handing the silver-backed hairbrush to the older woman.

Sylvia took it with a grateful nod and began to run the bristles through Liliene’s long, chestnut waves. "You have such lovely, lustrous hair, Miss. So soft. You possess a very natural, elegant beauty."

The compliment was entirely unprompted and lacking the cruel mockery Liliene was used to. It made a lump form in her throat. "T-Thank you, Sylvia. You are very kind."

Sylvia met Liliene's eyes in the vanity mirror. "We trust Mr. Walton immensely when it comes to his judgment. We are genuinely overjoyed that he chose someone like you. I can already tell you will be a wonderful wife to him, and a deeply cherished madam of this house."

Liliene’s breath hitched. ‘Cherished.’ No one had ever spoken to her with such respect. The heavy, suffocating weight she had carried for years suddenly felt lighter. Overwhelmed by a sudden surge of emotion, Liliene turned around and buried her face against Sylvia’s apron, wrapping her arms around the woman's waist.

"Thank you," Liliene sobbed quietly.

Sylvia froze in surprise, her hands hovering in the air. "M-Miss? Whatever is the matter?" But after a second, the housekeeper’s expression softened, and she gently returned the embrace, stroking Liliene's hair.

"You made me feel human again," Liliene looked up, her tear-filled eyes shining with a fragile new hope. "I will try to give Mr. Walton a chance. If he treats you with this much kindness, he cannot be the monster they say he is."

Sylvia cupped her cheek, wiping away a tear with her thumb. "He is a true gentleman, Miss. Please, do not let the poisoned words of the outside world taint your view of him."

Their quiet moment was interrupted by a hesitant knock. A younger maid, Nita, stood in the doorway, her eyes wide as she took in the sight of the future madam hugging the housekeeper.

Sylvia quickly stepped back, though she kept a protective hand on Liliene's shoulder. "What is it, Nita?"

Nita bowed respectfully to Liliene. "Good evening, Miss. I apologize for the intrusion, but a woman named Ayesha is waiting for you downstairs. She says she is your stepsister."

Liliene’s brow furrowed. ‘Why is she here? She couldn't wait to get rid of me.’

“A pleasant evening to you, my dear stepsister," Ayesha drawled, her voice dripping with venom as Liliene descended the grand staircase.

Liliene reached the bottom step and crossed her arms, her posture remarkably rigid despite the trembling in her hands. "You wanted me out of your house. Why did you follow me to mine?"

Ayesha sneered. She yanked the man standing next to her forward, wrapping her arms possessively around his bicep. It was Joaquin. Liliene’s chest tightened painfully. He had been her childhood sweetheart, the boy she once thought she would marry before her father died and her life became a living hell.

"We came to announce our engagement," Ayesha said, her eyes flashing with malicious triumph. She shoved a small, hastily wrapped box into Joaquin's hands. "And to drop off a little wedding gift. Since we certainly won't be attending yours."

Sylvia, stepping out from the shadows, smoothly took the box from Joaquin before he could hand it to Liliene.

Liliene ignored the box. She kept her gaze fixed on Joaquin. He looked away, too cowardly to even meet her eyes. The pain of seeing him with her abuser was sharp, but surprisingly, it was fleeting. Standing in this grand house, surrounded by people who respected her, the ghost of her past love suddenly looked incredibly small.

"You should really hurry up and wed the monster, Liliene," Ayesha mocked. "You know mother’s traditional rules. The eldest must marry first so I can have my wedding next month. Get it over with."

A spark of hot, unadulterated anger ignited in Liliene’s chest. For years, she had bowed her head. But not tonight. Not here.

"Enough." Liliene’s voice wasn't a scream; it was a low, commanding whip crack that echoed through the foyer. She locked eyes with Ayesha, letting every ounce of her bottled-up rage show. "Leave. Now."

Ayesha recoiled, her jaw dropping. "E-Excuse me? How dare you speak to me like—"

"I said leave," Liliene stepped forward, her chin tilted up.

Ayesha’s face contorted into an ugly snarl, and she lunged forward, raising her hand to strike. But Joaquin caught her wrist, pulling her back.

"Stop it, Ayesha! We delivered the gift. Let's just go," Joaquin muttered, looking nervously at the looming shadows of the Walton estate.

"Your violence is not welcome here, Ayesha," Liliene warned, her voice steady. "You are in my territory now."

Ayesha yanked her arm free from Joaquin, her chest heaving. "Don't act so high and mighty! You aren't his wife yet! You're just a purchased toy claiming what isn't yours."

"Mr. Walton claimed me," Liliene shot back, her voice ringing with a strange, fierce pride she didn't know she possessed. "Your mother made sure of that. So whatever is his, is now mine. Get out of my house."

Furious and out of ammunition, Ayesha let out a frustrated shriek. "Mother will hear about this!" she threatened, spinning on her heel and storming out the door, with Joaquin trailing pitifully behind her.

As the heavy doors slammed shut, Liliene let out a shaky breath. Sylvia was immediately at her side, offering a supportive arm to guide her back upstairs.

The silver light of the full moon spilled across the balcony. Dylan stood in the chilling night air, the ice clinking softly in his rock glass as he took a slow sip of bourbon. His inner wolf was scratching at the surface, desperate, ravenous, and entirely focused on the girl upstairs.

"Miss Liliene has finished her dinner and returned to her room, Alpha," his butler, Randy, announced quietly from the doorway. "Sylvia is preparing her for the marking phase."

Dylan turned, his golden eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. "Bring her to the ceremonial chamber in the basement." His voice was a deep, gravelly command that brooked no argument.

Randy swallowed hard. "Y-Yes, Alpha. We will escort her shortly." He hesitated, a flicker of concern crossing his face. "Will she... be alright, sir?"

Dylan’s gaze softened just a fraction. "I would rather die than cause her harm, Randy. Have her there in thirty minutes."

"As you wish, Alpha."

Dylan set his glass down on his heavy oak desk. He walked to his private quarters, shedding his tailored suit. He stepped into the scalding spray of the shower, letting the water wash away the tension of the human world. Tonight, he wouldn't be a billionaire or a CEO. Tonight, he was an Alpha claiming his mate.

Liliene sat perfectly still as Sylvia dried her hair. She was dressed in a beautiful, knee-length white gown made of silk so fine it felt like water against her skin. It was a gift from Dylan, along with the softest slippers she had ever worn.

"You must prepare your heart, Miss," Sylvia said softly over the hum of the hairdryer. "Tonight, Alpha Dylan will mark you as his Luna. It is an ancient right. After the marking, it is entirely up to you whether you consummate the bond tonight, or wait until your wedding day."

Liliene reached up and gently pushed the hairdryer away, meeting Sylvia’s eyes in the mirror.

"I need the truth, Sylvia," Liliene said, her voice trembling but resolute. "Why do you keep calling him Alpha? Why am I a Luna? What is a marking phase?"

Sylvia set the dryer down and sighed, pulling up a chair beside her. "Your stepmother truly threw you to the wolves without a word, didn't she?"

Liliene nodded sadly. "She just said I was payment for my father's debts."

"Listen to me carefully, dear," Sylvia took Liliene's hands in her own. "Werewolves are real. We live in the shadows of the human world. Our kind is divided into packs, led by Alphas. This estate, everyone in it—we are the Bloodfury Pack. And Dylan is our Alpha. The strongest of us all."

Liliene’s breath stopped. Her mind spun, desperately trying to reject the impossibility of it. But then she thought of Dylan. The way the air crackled around him. The unnatural, hypnotic gold in his eyes. The terrifying, primal power he radiated.

A ‘monster,’ Ayesha had called him.

"He chose you, Miss Liliene," Sylvia continued gently. "Not to be a slave. Not to be a pawn. He chose you to be his mate. His equal. The mother of his future heirs. He bought your contract to save you from that family, so he could bring you home."

Tears pricked Liliene's eyes. A werewolf. A creature of myth. Yet, as the reality washed over her, the fear was swiftly replaced by a profound sense of awe—and relief. Her human family had destroyed her. Perhaps it took a monster to finally keep her safe.

Liliene squeezed Sylvia’s hands. "Thank you for telling me the truth. I... I accept my fate." She stood up, smoothing down the front of her white silk dress. "I am ready to meet my Alpha."

The ceremonial chamber in the basement was not the dungeon Liliene had expected. It was a vast, circular room painted in deep crimsons and midnight blues. A massive four-poster bed draped in velvet sat in the center, bathed in the ethereal light of the full moon streaming through a high, barred window.

The heavy oak door slammed shut behind her, the lock clicking into place. Liliene gasped, spinning around.

From the shadows stepped Dylan. He was shirtless, his heavily muscled torso rippling with tension. The sheer, breathtaking masculinity of him made Liliene's heart hammer wildly against her ribs. He wasn't looking at her with the cold calculation of a businessman who had just bought a bride. He was looking at her with sheer, absolute devotion.

"Under the light of the full moon, as the clock strikes midnight, it is my right to mark you as my Luna," Dylan’s husky voice vibrated through the room, sending a flush of heat straight to Liliene's core.

He took a slow step closer, stopping just a foot away, leaving the final choice to her. "But before I lay a hand on you, Liliene... I must ask. Do you accept me, or do you reject me as your mate?"

Liliene looked up into his eyes. Her stepmother had sold her without asking. Her stepsister had tormented her without mercy. Yet this man—this powerful, mythical apex predator—was standing before her, asking for her consent. He wasn't a monster. He was her salvation.

She took a deep breath, stepping into his space, her small hands resting flat against his warm, hard chest.

"I, Liliene Rose Denver," she whispered, her voice steady and clear, "accept you, Dylan Wayne Walton, as my mate and my Alpha."

Dylan let out a ragged breath. In a blur of motion, his massive hands cupped her face. "And I, Dylan Wayne Walton, Alpha of the Bloodfury Pack, accept you, Liliene Rose Denver, as my mate, my Luna, and my equal in all things."

The transformation was instantaneous. Dylan’s eyes flared, casting a luminous, celestial golden glow. His sharp, lethal fangs descending over his lips. His fingernails elongated into dark claws. It was terrifying, brutal, and utterly mesmerizing. Liliene stood completely frozen, utterly captivated by the beast standing before her. He is only mid-transformation, only halfway through the shift.

Dylan leaned down, his hot breath ghosting over the juncture of her neck and shoulder. He inhaled her scent deeply, a low, rumbling growl echoing in his chest.

Then, he bit down.

The pain was a sharp, blinding white light that tore through her collarbone, but it was immediately chased by a rush of liquid fire that bound her soul to his. As the venom seeped into her veins, the exhaustion of the day and the overwhelming power of the bond overtook her. With a soft sigh, Liliene collapsed forward, completely safe in the unbreakable embrace of her Alpha as the darkness pulled her under.

Dylan’s mark shone upon the delicate column of Liliene’s neck, a gleaming emblem etched in light.