เข้าสู่ระบบThey say I killed my twin sister. And maybe I did. But not the way they think. She was days away from marrying Alpha Ryder, a man feared for his cruelty and revered for his power. The same man I secretly loved long before she ever touched him. Now she’s dead. And I’ve been forced into her place like a stand-in corpse in white silk. But Ryder isn’t fooled. He knew it wasn’t her the moment I stepped through his gates. He claimed me. Marked me. Broke me. Not out of love but vengeance. To him, I’m nothing but a murderer in a borrowed face. A liar. A manipulator. And he’s determined to make me suffer for daring to want him. Now I sleep in her bed, wear her ring, and bear the mark he sank into my skin like a brand. He’s not trying to love me. He’s trying to destroy me from the inside out.
ดูเพิ่มเติมIsolde~
It was almost evening. More than three hours had passed, and I was still standing at the far end of the aisle alone. My ankles ached in the heels I was forced to wear. I kept shifting from one foot to the other, trying to ease the pain, but it didn’t help. Although I couldn’t see my feet under the overflowing white wedding dress, the sharp sting told me enough — they were already bruised. My makeup felt heavy on my skin. Sweat trickled down my back and chest, sticking the fabric to me. I was hot, dizzy, and tired of pretending. And then the whispers started. “Isn’t Alpha Ryder going to attend his wedding?” “Why hasn’t he shown up yet?” “Poor girl” Tears welled up and burned my eyes. I bit my lip under the veil so hard I tasted blood. But the tears fell anyway. One slipped free. Then another. My fingers shook around the bouquet I held, the flowers trembling just like me. And then… Through the noise. Through the whispers. I heard it. “Isolde.” Sharp enough to break me. It was his voice. Alpha Ryder had arrived. Not to marry me but to destroy me. He called me by my real name. Not Isla but isolde. My eyes burned with unshed tears as realization dawned on me. He knew..... Towering. Dressed in black. Cold as death. No trace of warmth in his face, no apology in his eyes. He walked down the aisle with slow, deliberate steps; like he was going to war. Like I was the battlefield. He stopped beside me at the altar, saying nothing. His jaw was clenched and his aura—suffocating. The Elder finally stepped forward, clearing his throat with tension wrinkling his brow. “By the will of the Moon Goddess, under her gaze and the ancient rites that bind wolf to wolf, mate to mate— We gather to witness the sacred union between Alpha Ryder of the Bloodfang Pack, and Isla of Silver Fang bloodline.” A wave of discomfort spread across the room. No one spoke. The Elder pressed on, “Isla, do you accept this binding? Do you offer your heart, body, and wolf if she stirs to the Alpha beside you?” “Do you vow to serve, obey, and bear his mark, no matter the weight of the bond?” My lips parted. The answer caught in my throat. But I forced it out, “I do.” The Elder turned toward Ryder, relief beginning to bloom in his expression, “And do you, Alpha Ryder—” “I’ll say mine,” Alpha Ryder interrupted, his voice slicing through the moment, “To her. Alone.” The Elder froze and nodded before stepping back. Ryder didn’t wait. He stepped closer. So close I could feel the heat of him. Veil still over my face. Makeup streaked with tears. And then— He leaned down, brushing his lips against my ear. His voice was razor-wrapped in silk, “You don’t deserve her dress. You don’t deserve my mark. But I’m going to give it to you anyway not because you’re mine to love, but because you’re mine to ruin.” My spine stiffened. My bouquet shook in my hands. He went on, “From this moment forward, I vow to be your shadow. Your storm. Your curse in daylight. I’ll touch you like I touched her. Make you beg like she never had to. You’ll sleep in her bed and wake up drowning in her ghost.” “You think this is punishment? No, Isolde. This is your unraveling. You’ll cry for mercy, and I’ll kiss your tears. You’ll scream my name, and I’ll shove it deeper.” His breath burned against my skin. His lips brushed my temple. “You regret taking her place? You will. You’ll regret every breath you’ve stolen since the day she died and when I'm done....” Then his tongue dragged across the shell of my ear, slow and deliberate as his tone dropped low—more quiet than a whisper, “…you’ll wish it had been you in the casket instead.” And just like that he stepped back. His face unreadable. His voice, however, thundered through the hall, “Expose her neck. Now.” The Elder hesitated. His old hands trembled. But Ryder didn’t repeat himself. A warrior stepped forward from the side. One of his, loyal and brutal. He yanked the veil back without ceremony. Pins tore from my hair, scattering like broken stars across the altar floor. The few guests present gasped. And then he did what no one else dared; he reached behind my neck, grabbed the delicate chain clasp, and tore it apart with a metallic snap. The dress’s neckline sagged, revealing the bare curve of my neck and shoulder. I felt naked. Stripped. Offered. I flinched. The Elder’s voice shook, “Alpha Ryder, by the rites—” “Fuck the rites,” Ryder growled. And then— He stepped forward. His hand curled around my jaw. Fingers tightening and then he tilted my head back so my throat was bared to him, helpless and trembling, “Look at them,” he hissed under his breath. “Let them see the moment you’re ruined.” His fangs dropped with a sickening sound. The crowd held their breath. I didn’t get time to brace. He bit. Hard. Pain exploded through my neck. My scream echoed across the walls. I fought, legs dangling and tears gushing but he didn't stop. The bond— The bond slammed into me like a truck. Heat. Pressure. A searing wave of something dark and brutal that cleaved into my very soul. Not love. Not devotion. Just raw, animalistic possession. He pulled back, blood staining his lips. Mine. His mouth brushed my ear again as I collapsed against him, legs too weak to stand. “You’re mine now, little thief.” “And I will ruin you.” I couldn’t speak. My vision turned blurry with more tears. Regret. So many regrets. I wanted to rewrite my wrongs. But I knew it was impossible. All I could do now was serve my punishments. Because I deserved it. ——Isolde's POV I closed my eyes and tried to picture the life Aunt Linda had described. A small cottage somewhere in the human territories, far from pack borders and lunar laws. Sunlight filtering through lace curtains instead of iron-barred windows. Warm bread straight from an oven, not stale crusts tossed like scraps to a dog. No more cold hands pinning me down in the dark. No more mocking laughter as I broke beneath him. But every sweet image was chased away by the shadow of Ryder’s face—his cold, grief-hardened eyes, the way his jaw tightened when he looked at me like I was both salvation and curse. Time crawled. I flinched at every footstep echoing in the corridor, certain it was him returning for another round of punishment before I could slip away. At some point, exhaustion pulled me into a fitful doze. Nightmares flickered behind my eyelids—Ryder’s hands around my throat, his voice snarling that I would never escape him, that I belonged in this cage until my la
--- Isolde's POV Ryder returned to me—sometimes slipping into the room in the dead of night, other times appearing at the first gray light of dawn. There was never tenderness in his touch. No lingering kisses, no whispered words of comfort. He took me like I was nothing more than a vessel for his grief and fury—an object crafted solely for his rage and release. One night, he dragged me onto the bed and made me straddle him while he lounged back against the pillows, hands lazily laced behind his head. The dim lantern light cast harsh shadows across his sharp features as he watched me with that chilling, detached amusement. My thighs—already bruised and trembling—burned with exhaustion as I moved. “Faster,” he ordered, voice low and mocking. “Show me how badly you want to earn your next meal, little mate.” Tears streamed down my face, mixing with the sweat that clung to my skin. My raw, aching core protested with every desperate drop of my hips. The pain was sharp. I bit
**Disclaimer:** This story contains dark romance themes including explicit non-consensual sexual content, violence, forced marking/bonding, emotional abuse, revenge, and psychological trauma. It is intended for mature adult readers only. Reader discretion is strongly advised. --- **Chapter Six: Isolde** Ryder’s fist remained buried in my hair, yanking my head back so sharply that pain exploded across my scalp. Tears pricked my eyes as I was forced to meet his cold, storm-grey gaze—the same eyes I had once loved with every foolish piece of my heart. A cruel, twisted smile slowly curved his lips. It held no warmth, only pure, calculated malice. “Since you’ve always been so desperate to replace your twin,” he said, voice low and dripping with venom, “and I’ve already marked you like the pathetic substitute you are… it’s time, Isolde.” He leaned in, lips brushing my ear as his breath burned against my skin. “Tonight is our mating night. You’ll spread your legs like the whore you a
Isolde’s POV I once believed I would spend the rest of my life rotting away in that cell—a fitting punishment for my unforgivable sins. But I had almost forgotten who Ryder truly was. He would never grant me the mercy of a slow, quiet death. That would be far too simple for him. Early the next morning, rough hands dragged me from my cell and hauled me to his chambers. I was forced to wait for him like a condemned prisoner awaiting judgment. My body betrayed me instantly; a violent tremor ran through my limbs as dread crashed over me in icy waves. His chambers were larger than I had imagined, yet strangely sparse. The simplicity of it unsettled me. Ryder’s taste had always leaned toward darkness, but this felt… hollow. Cold. Back when we were teenagers, he was obsessed with anything dark and gloomy, while I lived for bright colors—especially pink and anything that sparkled. Our school uniform was a hideous mix of orange and red that I secretly despised. But Ryder, being Ry
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