Prepared

Valentina POV

Hours passed since Ryker had left after saying those cruel words to me, feeling broken and breathless, a storm of emotions I didn’t dare name bleeding under my skin.

I was still here, my body sore, my mind spinning like I was about to go crazy.

What did he want from me? Yes, I was a traitor's daughter but shouldn't he outrightly kill me?

He hadn't touched me the way the guards threatened but he’d gripped my face like it belonged to him. He’d stared into me like he would slit me raw before he left without doing any other thing.

The sound of keys scraping against the lock jolted me upright.

My body stiffened as the door creaked open again and heavy boots echoed against the stone floor. Five women stepped in, not guards, but servants, dressed in simple black uniforms, their eyes low and faces blank. They moved in formation like they’d done this a thousand times.

“W-what…?” My voice was hoarse in confusion, barely more than a whisper. “What do you want?”

None of them answered.

They roughly grabbed my arms. I tried to twist, to fight, but my limbs were weak, trembling with exhaustion. I didn’t even make it to my feet before one of them yanked me upward with inhuman strength.

“Let go of me! What are you—? Where are you taking me to?”

“You’ll know soon enough,” one of them said without looking at me. Her tone was flat, detached. “You’re to be prepared.”

“Prepared?” I spat. “ What are you saying? For what?”

“For the Alpha,” another replied, her gaze flickering with something I couldn’t place, pity, maybe, or disgust. “It’s your turn to serve him tonight.”

The words hit me like a slap. I went still, too stunned to breathe.

Serve him? What did that mean?

My mouth opened, but nothing came out except a strangled sound of disbelief. My heart thundered as they dragged me down the corridor, up stairs, through long, echoing halls lit lined with blood-red carpets. Blackthorn fortress wasn’t a palace. It was a prison dressed in gold and I was like the offering.

We stopped in front of a tall glass door etched with a silver wolf crest. One of the servants shoved it open and pushed me inside.

I blinked twice, the room was… beautiful.

It had a curved wall of glass. The floors were white tiles. A velvet chair sat in the middle, flanked by a small table.

One of them forced me into the chair and my stomach churned with dread. “Please,” I said, my voice cracking. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

But they didn’t answer.

A servant walked in carrying a silver tray. On it sat a steaming plate of food. Real food. Not the scraps they’d thrown in my cell. This smelled like roasted meat and garlic and spices I hadn’t tasted in weeks. The scent alone made my stomach rumble.

She set it beside me and stepped back.

“What… what is this?” I asked, eyeing them suspiciously.

“Eat,” the one carrying the tray earlier said.

I narrowed my eyes. “Why?”

“You’ll need your strength.”

“For what?” My voice rose. “What do you mean? What am I going to do—”

“Eat,” she repeated, this time with steel in her tone. “Or we’ll feed you ourselves.”

I stared at the food. My stomach twisted painfully. I hadn’t eaten anything real in days. I hated that I was hungry, hated that I needed what they gave me, hated that I was so weak.

But I picked up the fork and dug into the food.

The meat was tender, juicy, rich. I devoured it in seconds, barely tasting anything. But as soon as I finished, another plate replaced the first.

My eyes widened. “Why are you feeding me so much?”

As expected, they gave no answer, just silent stares but I kept eating.

The third plate arrived. I paused. “This is… this is too much already. What are you giving me so much food me for?”

A tall servant with silver hair stepped forward. Her gaze was calm but cold. “You’ll be serving the Alpha, tonight that will drain you. You’ll need all your strength. Eat. Now. While you still can”

My throat went dry. But I kept eating. I had no choice.

By the time I finished the third plate, I was full to the point of sickness. They handed me water. I drank. My stomach ached. My hands trembled.

They didn’t speak for half an hour instead watched me.

Then they pulled me up and led me into a side room. The bathroom was warm and white, steam rolling in the air. Basins of scented water, shelves stacked with cloths and glass bottles.

And then, they stripped me without warning.

“Wait—stop! Don’t—” I tried to cover myself, but they were too quick, too practiced.

Their hands were efficient, scrubbing me with rough sponge soaked in soap that burned and stung. They worked in silence, rubbing every inch of my skin until I felt raw and humiliated.

Tears welled in my eyes and I bit my lip to keep them from falling. This didn't feel like a bath, it was torture as if they wanted to scrub off the food they fed me earlier.

When they finally rinsed me, I stood bare, dripping and naked, trying not to crumble. One of them wrapped a soft towel around me. Another began brushing my hair, tugging it loose so it fell down my back.

“Why are you all doing this?” I asked but they remained mute.

They dressed me next in a silk gown the color of. It clung to my skin, it was cut too low, too short. I felt exposed, vulnerable. My hair was left down, cascading in waves around my shoulders. I didn’t recognize myself in the mirror.

Then, without a word, six of the seven servants left and

Only one remained.

She was beautiful, tall, with golden skin and sharp cheekbones. Her eyes glinted like obsidian. She moved closer and knelt in front of me, smoothing the folds of my gown with slow, deliberate hands.

Her fingers brushed against my thigh. Then slid upward, almost into my pussy.

I stiffened.

Her hand cupped my breast and I gasped and jerked away. “What the hell are you doing?”

She tilted her head, unfazed. “Relax. I’m just making sure you’re ready.”

“I’m not, I didn’t ask you to touch me like that!”

She gave a small, amused smile, but stepped back. “You’ll get worse tonight trust me.”

Her words chilled me.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “What is going on? Why do you all obey him like he’s a god, even more than the Moon Goddess?”

Her face shifted, just for a second. “Because he is power. Because he saved a lot of us from death and brutality, took some of us in. Some of us are not even his pack members. But don’t mistake his protection for kindness. He can be cruel. Especially to the ones he hates.”

“Then why doesn’t he let the guards touch me because it's obvious he loathes me?” I demanded. “Why does he keep me still alive?”

She stared at me for a long moment, then said quietly, “Because you are not just any one. You are the daughter of the traitors who slaughtered his sister and if there's anyone fit enough to handle you, that should be him.”

My breath caught in my lungs. So everyone already knew I was the traitor's daughter.

She smiled faintly. “And yet… it’s not hate that’s in his eyes when he spoke of you this morning to us to prepare you. It’s something else I can't decipher.”

“What do you mean?”

She leaned in close, her voice low, her eyes flickering. “Obey his every command tonight. Submit. Please him. If you don’t…”

She traced a finger across her throat. “...you won’t have a tomorrow before he snaps your throat”

I swallowed hard. “Why is he like that? Why is he so cruel?” I muttered to myself, not expecting her to hear.

But something crossed in her gaze. “Because the one person he loved more than anything was his sister, when she died, he lost the last part of himself that was human. It was just the two of them before their parents death who was the ex-Alpha king”

I didn’t speak, I couldn’t.

She stepped back and glanced toward the door like someone was approaching.

“But there’s one left,” she murmured. “One person he still protects. One person he’d kill for.”

“Who?” I asked, my heart pounding.

She looked over her shoulder.

“His sister’s daughter,” she said. “The only piece of Isla left alive.”