C2

Serena POV

"Drink this before your hands shake off your wrists," Maren says, stepping into my bedroom with a steaming porcelain cup resting on a silver tray.

I do not move from the edge of my mattress. My packed leather bag sits by the heavy wooden door, completely untouched, exactly where I left it when the sun was still hidden behind the dark horizon. The sharp, dominant scent of pine and rain-slicked earth from the approaching Blackthorn convoy still lingers heavily on the morning breeze, cutting straight through the open window. My wolf claws at the inside of my ribs, half-shifted and snarling under my skin. The double wound of my family’s sudden betrayal and Ethan’s spineless exit last night burns through my bloodstream like pure acid. I have not slept a single second.

"I hated what Mother and Father did to you," Maren says softly, her voice dripping with a practiced, gentle sweetness as she sets the tray down on my vanity. "I could barely breathe all night thinking about it. I just wanted to come check on you, Serena."

She glides across the floor, her silk robe rustling smoothly against the hardwood, and sits right beside me on the edge of the mattress. Her warm, delicate fingers reach out and take my cold hand. Her scent of soothing chamomile floods my nose, perfectly timed, perfectly soothing.

"Did you hear me?" Maren whispers, her eyes shining with fake, glossy tears. "I tried to stand up to Father. I told him he could not just sell you off to Blackthorn like cattle."

"Did you?" I ask, my voice flat, devoid of any warmth.

"Of course I did," she says instantly, squeezing my fingers with gentle pressure. "You are my older sister. It breaks my heart seeing you trapped like this."

I look down at our joined hands. The performance is utterly flawless. Her eyes are wide, her posture soft, her voice trembling at all the right moments. But my wolf snarls behind my teeth, completely unfooled by the sweet chamomile masking the sour stench of her satisfaction.

"Father's mind was already made up," I say, pulling my hand out of her grip with deliberate, slow grace. "There was nothing any of us could do."

"That does not make it right," Maren sighs, standing up and walking behind me. She picks up the heavy silver hairbrush resting on the vanity, stepping up behind my back just like she used to do when we were children. "Here, let me help you present yourself. The Blackthorn elders will be here soon."

The silver bristles bite into my scalp as she begins to brush my dark hair in long, rhythmic strokes.

"You know," Maren begins casually, her voice dropping into a secretive, confidential whisper, "the rumors about Kael Blackthorn are getting worse by the hour. The warriors in the courtyard were talking this morning before dawn."

"Kael?" I repeat, keeping my eyes fixed on the blank wall ahead of me.

"The Supreme Alpha himself," Maren says, her hand pausing briefly in my hair before resuming the long strokes. "The biological father of the comatose heir they are forcing you to marry. They say Kael's temper is legendary. Bloodthirsty. Rival wolves who crossed his territorial borders over the last five years did not just lose their land, Serena. They simply vanished off the face of the earth."

I stay completely silent, listening to the rhythmic drag of the brush.

"They say his iron control is starting to slip into something much darker," Maren continues, her sweet tone laced with a sharp, hidden poison. "He locks himself away in the deep vaults of the Blackthorn den every full moon. The guards swear you can hear his wolf screaming under the stone. I am just so terrified for you, Serena. I don't want you walking straight into a den of pure violence. You are far too soft, far too gentle for an Alpha like him."

"Is that what you think I am?" I ask softly. "Soft?"

"You have always had a gentle heart," Maren says, leaning down so her head rests near my ear, her reflection smiling sweetly at me in the mirror. "A brute like Kael Thorne will crush a female like you in days. He doesn't want a wife in his pack house. He wants a quiet political sacrifice to secure his bloodline's claim."

"Then I will be a quiet sacrifice," I reply, my voice smooth, measured, and cold as ice. "If Father sold me to secure our borders, then I will carry out my duty."

Maren’s hand stiffens on the handle of the silver brush. Her smooth brow pinches for a fraction of a second, clearly irritated that I am not panicking, that I am not breaking down into tears at the mention of Blackthorn's terrifying leader.

"You don't have to put on a brave face for me," Maren says, her voice turning noticeably sharper beneath the soft velvet tone. "We both know where your heart actually belongs."

"My heart belongs right here in my chest," I say calmly.

"Does it?" Maren sighs dramatically, setting the brush down on the table with a hard wooden clack. "Because I saw Ethan near the border shrine late last night."

My heart gives a violent, sudden thud against my ribs, but I force my face to remain completely motionless.

"He looked completely devastated, Serena," Maren whispers, leaning close to my shoulder, her eyes burning with a cruel, hungry intensity. "He was pacing near the boundary line in the freezing rain, looking toward your window like a man who had lost his entire soul. He looked like he regretted every single word he said to you when he walked away."

I stare at her through the mirror. The wound of Ethan’s cowardice, of his immediate surrender when my father announced the Blackthorn alliance, is still raw and bleeding inside me.

"He was crying," Maren lies smoothly, planting the blade deeper and twisting it with a smile. "He told me he still loves you. He said if you just give him a sign, just one word before the Blackthorn carriages cross the river, he will come back for you. He will take you away from here so you don't have to lay in a bed beside a monster."

"Ethan made his choice last night when he packed his things and ran," I say, my voice steady, though my knuckles turn white where my hands rest on my lap.

"He was scared of Father!" Maren insists, her voice rising in false desperation. "You can't blame him for being terrified of an Alpha's execution order! But he loves you, Serena. If you go to Blackthorn, you will be nothing more than a political pawn. The Blackthorn pack is already whispering about you behind closed doors."

"What are they whispering, Maren?" I ask, turning my head slowly to look her dead in the eye.

Maren smiles, a tiny, venomous curve of her lips that disappears as fast as it comes. "They are saying Kael will never respect a weak mate forced onto his family. They say the moment his comatose son breathes his last breath, Kael will throw you to the rogue borders. You will have nothing. No pack, no protection, no mate."

She reaches out, touching my arm with a light, pleading pressure.

"Reach out to Ethan," Maren whispers, her voice a poisonous thread of deceit. "Send him a message right now before the ceremony seals your fate forever. Run away with him tonight. I will cover your tracks. I will tell Father you were dragged off by rogues."

I look at my younger sister. I look at the bright, beautiful face I have protected since we were children. The sweet smile. The gentle eyes. The soft hands that just tried to push me into committing treason against an Alpha pack, a crime that would end with my execution on the border rocks while she stayed behind, completely safe, inheriting everything Father owns.

The cold clarity of my wolf settles deep into my bones. The haze of exhaustion and grief vanishes in an instant.

"Thank you for your concern, Maren," I say, standing up slowly. I tower over her, my posture straight, my shoulders set like iron. "Your sisterly love is truly overwhelming."

Maren blinks, taken aback by the sudden shift in my aura. "Serena, I am only trying to save you--"

"I know exactly what you are trying to do," I say softly, stepping toward her until she is forced to step backward toward the hallway. "And you don't need to worry about me anymore. I am going to Blackthorn. I will marry into their bloodline. And I will survive whatever Alpha Kael throws at me."

I open my bedroom door wide, gesturing out toward the corridor.

"Go drink the tea yourself, Maren," I say calmly. "It's getting cold."

Maren stands in the doorway, her sweet mask slipping for a brief, dangerous second, revealing the cold, envious fury burning underneath. She opens her mouth to speak, closes it, and turns on her heel, her silk robe snapping against her legs as she walks away.

The moment her footsteps fade down the carpeted hallway, my composure breaks. I lean my back against the heavy wood of the door, taking a deep, shuddering breath. My hand flies to my throat, my heart hammering like a trapped bird inside my chest.

The real danger was never just the forced marriage. It was the sister who smiled at me while sharpening the blade behind her back.

I walk over to the large arched window and push the glass open wide. The morning air rushes into the room, cold and sharp, carrying the heavy, thunderous rumble of dozens of heavy steel wheels crushing the gravel roads outside our estate gates.

The Blackthorn convoy has arrived.

The air thickens instantly. The dark, dominant scent I caught on the wind last night hits my nostrils with suffocating force. Pine, winter frost, and raw, wild lightning. Kael’s presence. The Alpha is here, standing at our gates, his power crushing the very air in the valley.

Suddenly, my phone vibrates violently against the mahogany vanity.

I turn around, my breath catching in my throat. I pick up the black screen. A single text message sits on the glass, sent from an encrypted, unlisted number.

‘Pack your things. We leave at dusk. —K.’

My blood turns to absolute ice. My heart slams against my ribs so hard I can barely breathe.

K? Is it Kael? Is it someone inside the Blackthorn inner circle testing my loyalty? Or is it a trap set by Ethan to drag me into execution?

Outside in the hallway, the faint, soft sound of Maren’s slippers stops directly outside my locked door. She is standing there in the dark corridor, listening. Waiting for me to break.

I slide the phone into the pocket of my coat, walk to the window, and slam the heavy glass shut. I turn the iron key in the lock, securing the door.

"No more running," I whisper into the quiet room, my wolf raising her head inside my mind, her golden eyes burning with lethal, cold fire. "No more trusting blood."

Down in the courtyard, a heavy horn blows, announcing the arrival of the Supreme Alpha. And right behind my bedroom door, the soft, metallic sound of a key turning slowly in my lock begins to scrape through the silent house.