Chapter 1- The Cellar Wine

(Isabel’s POV)

The world I was born into was characterized by sharp lines, stone-carved hierarchies, and bloodlines as unyielding as iron. The most respected names were at the top, while people like me, at the bottom. 

The kingdom existed in two worlds: a modern world of steel and skyscrapers mixed with ancient magic, where monsters roamed the wildlands beyond the city walls and packs ruled over areas similar to noble houses. Within this duality, citizens went about their daily lives, often unaware of the dangers lurking just beyond their reach.

I was an omega orphan who grew up in the quiet corners of the pack's territory, where whispers and footsteps faded before reaching the important places.

My life was a quiet cycle of obedience. I didn't have a family name to protect me, no wealth to elevate me, or a say in pack politics. While others clawed their way toward power and recognition, I perfected the art of being unseen. Invisibility was my shield, silence was my weapon, and safety my sole prize. I remained in the shadows, kept my head down, and did what was required without complaining. Attention was dangerous, and I didn't want any of it. Although that life was not glorious, it was safe. At least it was... Until one day, fate noticed me and ripped my peaceful world apart.

The day I met the Lycan King, the air felt heavy, as if the entire world was holding its breath. With a single glance, an ancient bond was formed between us, an invisible tether that I couldn’t break no matter how hard I tried. It ought to have been a blessing. Instead, it felt like a snare tightening around my neck. From that moment on, nothing in my life was steady.

I despised the way he looked at me, but I couldn't avoid it. His gaze was deliberate, cold, and cutting, but it was tinged with something I couldn't identify, and it lingered just long enough to make my heart skip a beat, reminding me that what held us together was neither simple nor gentle. Every time our gazes met, I could feel the verdict in them. Even when I told myself I didn't care, I couldn't get rid of the quiet condemnation that persisted.

He had already secured my heart in ways I couldn't comprehend or reverse. But he resisted that pull with nothing more than distance, his silence as sharp as a blade, and his eyes cold. He looked away from me as though the bond were a burden rather than a promise.

I reduced myself to patience and obedience, giving up every aspect of myself for the slightest indication that I was important. I would have clung to a word, a glance, or even the faintest hint of kindness. But there was nothing. Only the ache of desire and the hollow echo of a bond that I carried alone. Pathetic.

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The palace garden smelled of rosemary and damp earth, and the warm air carried the scent to where I stood. I lingered behind the servants' quarters, among the neat rows of herbs, my hands moving naturally as I plucked and sorted leaves into the basket on my hip. It was the kind of work that occupied you while your thoughts wandered, though mine never went far. 

My gaze was focused on the East Wing balcony. on him. The Lycan King stood there, like a stone shadow against the fading sunlight. He was all sharp lines, shadows, and untouchable but impossible to look away from. 

"At this rate, you'll still be standing here when the moon is overhead," Lucy whispered at my side, taking a spring of thyme from her basket. Her voice drew me back to the garden, breaking the thread that had kept my gaze fixed on the balcony. I forced a thin smile to hide the truth as best I could. Nobody needed to know how much my life revolved around a man who wouldn't even look at me.

"Are you still looking up there like a puppy examining the window of the butcher shop?” The words came into my ear, slick and poisonous. 

As I turned, I saw Camela Mordane walking toward us, her red skirts gliding across the grass with each graceful step, and the sweetness of her smile was enough to hide the decay beneath it.

Camela had been a source of pain for me long before the bond that linked my destiny to his. She was sophisticated, confident, and born with a name that granted her access to places I would never visit. She was everything I wasn't, and I was caught between admiration and fear, drawn to her audacity but also cautious of the devastation it might bring. Every interaction made me reevaluate my morals and decisions as I struggled with the attraction of her world, which drew me in, and I couldn't shake the feeling that our paths would cross again.

"I wasn't watching," I said, the words leaving my mouth a little too quickly.

"Oh, of course." I believe you were just admiring how nicely the clouds framed him. Camela responded, casting a slightly amused look at the balcony. I stayed silent. "Calm down," she said in an unusually light voice. "Doman wants to see you, and I'm just here to deliver a message.” "What?" I replied with disbelief.

Lucy stayed still with her hands hovering over the basket, and her gaze shifted between us as if she wasn't sure she'd heard correctly. She went on, "He needs someone in the wine cellar tonight." Someone quiet. Someone who won't be caught in the act. I reassured him that you would. My chest began to bloom with heat before I could stop it. There was a chance, a tiny, frail one. Perhaps... The ice was starting to melt.

"Be early," Camela said, in a clipped voice. "He hates waiting. Keep it to yourself; he doesn't want anyone to think he's... She paused, the smile on her lips tightening. "Too familiar with an Omega kitchen, girl.”

The words hit me like a slap, but I pushed them down as I responded."I get it.”

"Good. Make an impression on him, and who knows?" She shrugged absently and turned, gliding off with her skirts whispering over the grass. Lucy leaned in once Camela was out of earshot. "I don't like this." "It's a chance," I said, though the words sounded hollow to me. "Or bait," she muttered. I forced a small laugh, but it sounded thin. Under the flicker of excitement, unease coiled tight and refused to let go.

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In a wash of silver moonlight, night fell over the palace and I walked into the wine cellar at exactly half past seven. With each step, the air became cooler, and the smell of old oak and dust settled around me. Shadows gathered in the spaces between the tall bottle racks, but he wasn't there.

"Hello?" My voice faded into the stillness, echoing faintly. The only answer was silence. In the center of the room was a table with an uncorked bottle of dark wine and one glass that had already been filled. There was a note folded next to it."Wait here. Something came up; I'll be back shortly”. My heart raced as I lowered myself into the chair. 

The minutes passed slowly, and the quiet pressed down in a thick, strange silence that made my neck tingle. Finally, I reached for the glass. Taking a sip. Then another. Rich and slightly sweet, the wine glided over my tongue, but underneath it was a strange, almost unsettling undertone. The heat spread throughout my body, causing every muscle to relax. My eyelids became heavy as the room tilted slightly to one side. Darkness then swept forward, seizing me like a tidal wave. 

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Unseen POV

Isabel shifted in the cellar, her lips parting as if to speak, but the drug kept her still. Beyond the racks, an unseen presence lingered, silent and patient, watching and waiting. From the top of the stairs, the figure watched with a faint smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. Below, Blake Rasta teetered unsteadily, the pack’s infamous drunk, eyes wide and unfocused. A soft whisper floated down, urging him forward.

“Go on… your mate’s waiting.” He staggered inside and collapsed next to Isabel, who was still unconscious. Someone carefully drew the sheet out of the shadows, and when they took a step back, the scene was simultaneously perfect, terrifying, and damning. With a nearly silent click, the door closed, and the shadow disappeared.