CHAPTER 3

ANTALYA'S POV

Dawn broke through the curtains, casting long shadows across my bedroom floor. I hadn't slept a minute, my mind racing with thoughts of captivity and forced mating. The walls of my childhood bedroom now felt like prison bars closing in around me.

I pressed my ear against the door, listening to my parents' hushed voices drifting up from downstairs.

"She has to understand," Mom whispered, her voice strained. "There's no other way."

"Maybe we should tell her everything," Dad replied, his tone defeated. "About what Dominic threatened—"

"No!" Mom hissed. "She's upset enough. If she knew the full extent..."

Their voices faded as they moved deeper into the house. I slumped against the door, sliding down until I hit the floor. The old wood creaked beneath me, a sound so familiar yet now part of my confinement.

"Some parents you turned out to be," I muttered, glaring at the locked door. "Trading your daughter to save yourselves."

With shaking hands, I pulled up the loose floorboard beneath my bed, retrieving the old phone I'd hidden there years ago when Mom had confiscated my first cell phone after catching me texting a boy after curfew. The irony wasn't lost on me—back then, talking to boys was forbidden; now, I was being forced to mate with one.

I pressed the power button, praying the battery still had some life. The screen flickered, then glowed dimly. Relief flooded through me.

"Thank the Moon Goddess for small miracles," I whispered.

My fingers fumbled as I connected to our home WiFi—thankfully, the password hadn't changed in five years. However, my hope quickly deflated when I realized I couldn't remember Nathan's number. It had always been stored in my phone, which was now in my parents' possession.

"Damn it," I hissed, fighting back tears of frustration.

I couldn't call for help, but I could at least learn what I was up against. I pulled up the browser and typed: "Blackwood Family Alpha Alfonso."

The search results loaded slowly on the ancient device, but what I found made my blood turn to ice.

"No," I whispered, scrolling through article after article. "No, this can't be right."

The Blackwood family wasn't just powerful—they were notorious. Money laundering, extortion, mysterious disappearances of business rivals. And at the center of it all was Dominic, the family's enforcer and heir apparent. His cold eyes stared back at me from a news article about a charity event—a thin veneer of respectability covering something monstrous beneath.

But it was the forum posts from packmates that truly chilled me to the bone. I clicked on a thread titled "The Blackwood Curse."

"My brother worked as a maid in the Blackwood mansion," one user wrote. "She said women who get close to Dominic don't last long. Three girlfriends in five years, all dead from what they called 'natural causes.' But she swore they all complained of the same thing before they died—unbearable heat, like their blood was boiling from the inside."

I clutched the phone tighter, my hands trembling.

"It's the curse," another replied. "The Blackwoods made a deal with dark forces generations ago. They can't mate properly—they burn their mates from the inside out. That's why Dominic has never claimed a mate officially. They all die before the bond can fully form."

My free hand flew to my throat, suddenly feeling like I couldn't breathe. My parents hadn't just sold me into an unwanted marriage—they'd sentenced me to death.

"Those bastards," I choked out, tears finally spilling over. "They know. They have to know."

I continued scanning through posts, each one more disturbing than the last. Stories of women going missing, of hushed payoffs to families, of the strange heat that emanated from Dominic's touch.

A knock at the door startled me so badly I nearly dropped the phone.

"Antalya?" Mom called through the door. "I've brought you some breakfast."

I quickly shoved the phone under my pillow and wiped at my tears. "I'm not hungry."

The lock clicked, and Mom entered carrying a tray. Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying, but I felt no sympathy.

"You need to eat," she said, setting the tray on my nightstand.

I stared at her, wondering if she could see the newfound horror in my eyes. "Did you know?"

She frowned. "Know what?"

"About the women. The ones who died after being with Dominic."

Mom's face paled, confirming my worst fears. "Those are just rumors, sweetheart. Pack gossip."

"Don't lie to me!" I snarled, my wolf rising dangerously close to the surface. "Not anymore!"

She flinched at my tone. "We had no choice! Your father's debt—"

"Is worth more than my life?" I cut in, voice deadly quiet. "You're sending me to my death, Mom. Do you understand that? You've sacrificed your daughter."

"It won't be like that for you," she insisted, though doubt flickered in her eyes. "You're strong. Special."

I laughed bitterly. "Right. I'm sure that's what all the other dead girls thought too."

Mom stepped toward me, but I backed away. "Please, Antalya. Just meet him. Maybe the rumors aren't true. Maybe—"

"Get out," I whispered. When she didn't move, I screamed, "GET OUT!"

She left quickly, locking the door behind her. I collapsed onto my bed, mind racing with the horrifying reality of my situation. This wasn't just about being forced into a loveless marriage—this was life or death.

I had to escape. Not tomorrow, not tonight—now.

But how? The windows were nailed shut, the door locked. I was trapped like an animal awaiting slaughter.

I grabbed the phone again, mindlessly scrolling through the pack's social media feed, desperate for anything that might help. That's when I saw it—a promotional post for an upcoming event:

"NORTHERN TERRITORIES INVITATIONAL ICE HOCKEY TOURNAMENT: Male-only competition between packs. Winner takes glory and territory rights for hunting season. Registration closes tomorrow."

I stared at the screen, an idea forming in my mind. It was desperate, dangerous—but no more dangerous than staying here to be claimed by Dominic Blackwood.

"If only men can enter..." I murmured to myself, running a hand through my long hair.

The plan crystallized with startling clarity. I would stop being Antalya Andrews. I would become someone else entirely—someone Dominic could never find, someone who could escape across pack lines under the cover of competition.

My gaze drifted to the scissors sitting on my desk, then to the chest in the corner where my brother's old clothes still remained from before he left for college.

A grim determination settled over me. I was ready to sacrifice everything—my identity, my appearance, even my place in werewolf society—if it meant freedom from the deadly fate awaiting me.

"I'm sorry, Nathan," I whispered to my absent boyfriend, "but I can't wait for rescue."