Cruel Engagement

Valentina's POV

The needle gleamed under the dim light like it had been forged for one purpose mine body. His fingers, steady and pale, hovered near my skin, and the air between us turned razor thin.

“Hold still,” Ryker said, his voice low, his eyes never leaving mine.

My heart pounded so loudly it drowned out every other sound. My mouth opened, but no words came. Just breath shallow, broken, terrified.

He stepped closer, so close I could smell the sharp tang of metal, the faint scent of his skin beneath the faintest whiff of smoke. His hand reached up, brushing a strand of hair from my face with surprising gentleness. The contrast startled me more than the needle.

“You won’t forget me,” he murmured, “even if you try.”

But before the needle could pierce my skin, his expression shifted. His eyes turned distant, like something cold had cut through his concentration. His hand froze midair.

Then, like a snap of lightning through a silent night, his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed, voice hardening into clipped steel.

“Racoon.” A beat passed.

He closed his eyes briefly. A mindlink.

“What is it?” he asked, his tone sharp, impatient. He wasn’t speaking to me anymore. He was elsewhere, ears to an invisible voice only he could hear perhaps a mindlink.

I watched as his features hardened, like whatever he’d just heard had sliced into him. Ryker didn’t move for several seconds. Then, as if remembering I was there, he snapped the needle case shut, pocketed it, and turned on his heel.

Without a word, he left. The door slammed behind him.

Silence filled the room, thick and stuffy. I stared at the space he’d just occupied, unable to move.

My knees gave way slowly. My legs folded beneath me, and I slumped onto the cold floor, breath shuddering out of my lungs. The ache in my body returned like a cruel whisper. But this time, it wasn’t the pain that made my chest cave in. It was the confusion. The fear. The hollowness that followed a hurricane of terror.

I looked down at myself, bruised, marked, the collar now returned and still tight around my neck like a noose. My fingers trembled as I touched it. It didn’t feel real. None of this did.

But then my breath hitched.

Tears slipped down my cheeks quietly, steadily. Not loud sobs. Just the kind that happened when your soul broke so slowly, you didn’t even realize you’d shattered.

I didn’t even hear the door creak open.

It wasn’t until I felt soft hands under my arms that I flinched violently, my entire body recoiling.

“Please,” I whispered without thinking, “don’t—”

“We won’t hurt you,” a gentle voice said.

Two women stood over me, dressed in soft grays. Older than me, not much, but their eyes looked ancient. They carried no threat, only a strange sense of quiet detachment.

“You need to come with us,” the first one said, her voice barely above a whisper.

I blinked through the blur of salt and tears. “Where…?”

They didn’t answer. Instead, one of them offered a hand. Her fingers were soft, calloused at the tips. Seamstress hands. I hesitated, but I couldn’t stay here. Not in this cold, dark room with the smell of him still hovering to the air.

So I let them help me up. My knees buckled, but they held me steady. The hall outside was warm, clean, a stark contrast to where I’d come from. I clung to the wall for balance, my eyes narrowing at the light.

We walked slowly. They didn’t rush me. Eventually, we stopped in front of a large, double-door room.

They pushed it open, and I stepped inside. For a second, I couldn’t breathe.

The space looked like it had been carved from the dreams of royalty. The walls were a warm ivory, veined with gold. A chandelier shimmered above like a crown of stars. Silks in shades of rose and dusk adorned the room, and in the center stood a dressing mirror, tall and curved like a gateway to another life.

Dresses hung from racks, dozens of them. All rich, intricate, made with lace and velvet, embroidered with silver thread. They were nothing like the rags I’d worn my whole life.

But none of this made sense. “Why… why am I here?” I asked, my voice hoarse.

The second woman gave me a strange look. A softness mixed with pity.

“You’re to be dressed,” she said.

I stared at her, confused. “For what again? Am I serving another punishment?”

The other woman answered, her voice neutral. “You’re to be wed tonight.”

The words didn’t land at first. They hovered above me, impossible.

“Married? To who? What are you talking about?” I echoed, blinking.

She nodded. “To Alpha Ryker.”

The silence after her words was louder than the sentence itself. My stomach turned.

I stepped back, shaking my head. “No. No. There’s been a mistake. He wouldn’t— He can’t—”

“He gave the order,” the first woman said. “You are to be his bride.”

I laughed, but it came out cracked and panicked. “He tortured me. Less than a day ago, he tried to brand me a while ago”

“He still might,” the second said gently. “Marriage doesn't mean mercy. Not here.”

I felt the world spin. “He hates me. He told me—he bought me. That I was a thing. A punishment he wanted exert.”

Neither of them spoke for a long moment. Finally, the quieter one whispered, “Maybe he still sees you that way. But Alphas… they don’t marry lightly. If he’s doing this, there’s a reason.”

I sank into the velvet chair in the center of the room, my legs too weak to hold me. My hands trembled in my lap. “I don’t understand. None of this makes sense. Why? Are the punishments he gives me not enough? Why would he go this far?”

They didn’t answer. One of them approached with a comb and began to brush the knots from my hair with slow, practiced strokes.

“We have little time,” the older one said. “You must look… unforgettable.”

“No?” I asked.

She paused. “Because tonight, you will be claimed. In the eyes of the pack. The council and the law.”

“But I don’t want to be claimed, especially not by him” I stated.

“Wanting has nothing to do with it.”

They undressed me carefully, peeling away the remnants of what I wore. They avoided the bruises, cleaned what they could. One of them ran a cool salve over my inner thighs, her touch silent but kind.

Another brought a dress—deep crimson, with gold accents and delicate off-the-shoulder sleeves. When she held it up against me, I didn’t recognize the girl in the mirror. My ribs stuck out from hunger. My collarbone was bruised. My eyes were ringed with shadows. But in that gown… I looked like someone important. Someone almost regal.

Still, none of it felt real.

“She’ll faint during the ceremony if she doesn’t eat,” one of the women muttered. “Bring her something light.”

The other left.

The woman remaining tied my corset, gently, with no unnecessary tightness. She said, almost like talking to herself, “I’ve dressed brides before. They were all afraid. But not like this.”

“I’m not afraid,” I lied.

She met my eyes in the mirror. “Then what are you?”

I swallowed hard. “I’m waiting.”

“For what?”

“For the moment he regrets this.”

A flicker of something crossed her face. Admiration? Pity? I couldn’t tell.

When the other servant returned, she carried a tray of broth, bread, and tea. I ate slowly, each bite threatening to rise back up. Still, I forced it down. I needed strength. If not to fight then to endure.

As they fastened the final clasp of the gown, I turned back toward the mirror. The reflection looking back didn’t seem like mine. The eyes were too hollow, the posture too still, like the girl had made peace with the war, not the outcome.

“Why does he want to marry me?” I asked again, voice barely above a breath.

“Because he can,” one of them said softly. “And because you still have a role to play.”

“I don’t want to be his bride,” I said, gripping the edge of the vanity. “I want to be free.”

The other servant leaned in, brushing a curl behind my ear. “Then wear this like armor not chains.”

I met her eyes in the mirror. And for the first time since I’d arrived here, I didn’t cry. I just breathed.

And as the day slipped behind the clouds, painting the room in golden grief, I heard the hallway grow quiet. Steps outside the door. The sound of familiar heavy footsteps approaching.

A voice beyond the threshold. Deep and commanding as always.

I knew It was him. Alpha Ryker had returned. And this time… He came to make me his wife.

Was I bonded to him forever?