2. Broken promise

The space suddenly feels too small as I stare at Nathan, wondering if he is still the male who held me close on many nights, whispering promises into my ears.

“Nathan, it’s me. Isolde, your—”

“What is the commotion, darling?” a feminine voice cuts me off.

A tall, elegant woman appears behind Nathan, slipping a hand into his. Clad in a fine wedding dress, she smiles at me.

Beth?

My half-sister?

Beth throws a disgusted look at me. “Why are you here? My mother made sure you never heard of my wedding to Nathan.”

“You’re getting married to her?” I ask, pain and betrayal filling my voice. I look at Nathan. His eyes are full of love as he looks at Beth.

“Yes,” Nathan replies, his voice flat. “The wedding between Beth and me was planned a while ago. I’m getting married, and the last time I checked, I didn’t invite a mad person.”

The pang in my heart hurts more than the wounds and scratches on my body. Nathan is denying me, and I am standing here like a lost pup, watching him talk about marrying Beth.

This has to be a dream. Nathan would never do this. I gave this male my all. I remained faithful. I trusted him. Yet all this time, he was planning to marry my half-sister.

My father’s men burst in. Five hefty ones.

They march forward with cruel determination, grabbing and pinning me to the ground. I struggle with all the strength I have left, but none of them budge.

“No, no, no. This has to be a prank. You promised me, Nathan. You promised to marry me. Don’t let them take me away!"

“Marry you?” he scoffs. “An Alpha like me would never lower himself to something as disgusting as you.”

A sharp needle pierces my neck before I can speak. The burn is excruciating for a few seconds. I cry out, both from the pain and the betrayal shredding through my system, until my throat is sore.

Then the world begins to fade, and the last thing I see is Nathan turning away, his arm wrapped around my half-sister’s waist.

I am in a pitch-black cell. The air is frigid against my delicate skin, frightening and haunting.

I have been here before.

The night I stabbed the Beta’s hand when he tried to force himself on me.

I was dragged to court in shackles, bruised and shaking.

Father did not hesitate to give his Beta a cue to punish me, even as my mother cried herself to the floor.

I was tortured in ways no eighteen-year-old girl should ever endure. I still carry the scars and burns from that night.

After four days, Mother managed to get me out. As she treated my wounds with a heavy heart, I asked how she saved me from the Beta, who was just as wicked as my father, maybe even worse.

But Mother brushed it off with, “I pleaded with him.” I wanted to ask more, but I was afraid of what that answer might reveal.

She suffered a lot because of me. Unlike every mother who would abandon their child born under the red moon, mine never did. She never stopped fighting, even after losing her right as Luna.

I need to be strong. At least for her.

Days pass without food or water. I do not know how many.

I feel dead, yet somehow I am still breathing, my mind fogged, hope distant.

All that occupies my thoughts is my father’s cruelty and Nathan’s betrayal burning through my chest.

Finally, the gates groan open. Footsteps echo, and I do not have the strength to look up.

“Oh dear,” an aged voice echoes.

It is Elara, Mother’s hand maid.

Elara is another person who never truly hated me, all because of her love for my mother. They were good friends.

She crouches beside me with a panicked look, checking my pulse, then orders the guards to carry me out. She gives me water before bathing me. Food is already prepared, waiting in my small chamber.

After eating a little, I ask about Mother, but Elara shakes her head. She does not know what happened to her.

My heart drops. Could Mother be tortured?

Is she still alive?

I notice the pity in Elara’s eyes, but I do not have the strength to ask. The medicine she gives me makes my head spin. She urges me to lie down, and it does not take a minute before darkness claims me.

When I open my eyes again, a bit of strength flows through my body. But the betrayal remains, fresh and haunting.

I roll over and meet Alpha Aldric’s gaze. He sits across the room. Elara stands behind him, head lowered, hands clutching the hem of her dress.

I sit up, short of breath, my voice weak. “Where is Mom?”

“Alive,” he says flatly. “For now.”

Something between rage and fear explodes in my chest. “Why do you hate us so much when we did nothing wrong? Why are you doing this to us?”

“Can you not see? I am trying to save the pack, but you and your mother are so stubborn it angers me. How ungrateful you both are. I allowed you to live in this pack after your sickening acts, yet you refuse to do one tiny favor.”

He is still obsessed with forcing me to marry Drogo.

“I would rather die than marry him.”

“Then you will watch your mother suffer,” he says, and my heart plummets. “She has also agreed that you marry Drogo so she will not watch you die.”

I scramble off the bed and crawl to his feet. My shoulders shake, tears blurring my vision as I look up at him. “Please. Please do not do this. I will do anything. Just let my mother go.”

“Then marry Drogo.”

I have no choice. I cannot bear it if Mother dies. She is all I have.

“I will,” I whisper, the words heavy in my throat. “Just promise to let her go.”

“That is not all, little Runt.” He smirks, then leans forward, hatred etching every line of his weathered face. “Drogo had been a pain in the ass of many. Once you are married to him. You are going to find his weakness. One that will take him down for good. Only then will I release your mother.”