SINNER OR SAINT: The Alpha’s Twin Bride

~MOMENT OF TRUTH~ Morning light creeps through the curtains, soft yet strange, like it’s trying to soothe me into a life that doesn’t feel like mine. I sit stiffly on the edge of the bed while Khloe braids my hair. Her fingers are gentle but professional. She has barely left my side since I returned from that strange hospital, the one everyone refuses to explain properly. “Khloe?” My voice comes out small and fragile. “Please, tell me the truth. Everything, i need to know about me.” Her hands pause for a second before resuming. She swallows, then meets my eyes in the mirror, hesitation flickering across her face. After a long breath, she speaks. “Well, you are Clary Huston,” she says quietly. “Daughter of one of the most respected werewolf families in Athens. Your parents hold influence, power. They protect humans without anyone ever realizing it, without knowing who or what keeps the balance.” The information feels new to me. “Then why did I poison myself?” I ask, my chest tigh

~MY FAMILY FAILED ME~ “How can you be so stubborn as to sacrifice yourself for your sister?” I sit up slowly and rub the back of my neck, the ache still lingering from everything I can’t remember and everything I wish I could forget. “Dad? How can you say that?” My voice cracks before I can steady it. “If I killed myself to escape this man, that means he’s horrible beneath his charming face.” Father exhales like I’ve disappointed him. Like I’m the burden. “Should I rather give him Betty?” he shoots back. “She’s my only daughter.” The words slice clean through me. My heart splinters. “What am I then?” Silence. “You’re so ungrateful,” he says coldly. “Whether you like it or not, you’re marrying him. Or I throw you out for the rogues.” Rogues. The word doesn’t just mean exile. It means death. Starvation. Being hunted like an animal. I stare at the man who raised me and realize something brutal—love here is conditional. Survival is transactional. He walks out, angry, leaving m

~IT HURTS~ My legs tremble. Not from pride this time, but real fear. I am already weak. My wolf is gone. My body feels too fragile for what I know is coming. Still, I lower myself onto the cold stone. It leeches warmth from my skin instantly. “I hate to hurt you, Clary,” Hippy says quietly behind me. “But I can’t defy the Alpha.” There is a metallic hiss as he uncoils the whip. Not leather, but wire. The first strike splits the air before it splits my skin. Pain explodes across my back, white and blinding. A scream tears from my throat without permission. “One.” The second lands harder. My fingers claw at the stone. “Two.” By five, my voice is already breaking. By nine, I can taste blood in my mouth from biting down too hard. The wire bites through fabric, through skin, carving lines of fire across my back. Warmth spreads beneath me—my blood pooling on the cold floor. “Ten.” My body shakes violently. My vision swims. I am barely conscious of the numbers anymore. Pain becomes

~THE WEDDING DAY~ I gasp awake to the shock of icy water splashing across my face and chest. It trickles down my neck, seeps beneath the thin fabric of my nightdress. For a split second, I don’t know where I am. Then I look up. Of course. Betty stands over me, empty glass in hand, a slow smirk stretching across her lips. “Do you ever get tired of this?” I mutter hoarsely, wiping water from my eyes. Betty stands over me with the empty glass in her hand, her smile sharp and satisfied. “Mother said I should wake you up,” she says lightly. “The beautician and fashion designer are on their way. We wouldn’t want the substitute bride running late to her own wedding.” She laughs. I sit up slowly, my heart already pounding. Today is the day. She leans against the bedpost, studying me like I’m something already buried. “You know, the first day I saw the Alpha…” Her voice turns almost dreamy. “God. I wanted him. I’ve never seen anyone that attractive. The way he carries himself. The body

~NIGHT OF THE RITUAL~I rise to my feet slowly, forcing my breathing to steady.I may not remember who I was, but the fact that I survived death means something. It means I fought. It means I don’t break easily. Whatever I’ve lost, whatever was taken from me, the instinct to survive is still here, sharp and unyielding.I just have to endure.Long enough for my memories to return, and to understand what I’ve been thrown into.I step out of the chamber.From the doorway, I see it—a narrow trail of light stretching forward into the darkness. It glows softly against the stone floor, almost ethereal, like moonlight made solid. It’s breathtaking.And terrifying.Chills sweep across my bare skin, but I move forward anyway. My feet follow the illuminated path as distant chants begin to rise—low at first, then layered. Voices blending together in something ancient and hauntingly beautiful.The sound wraps around me.It’s intoxicating.For a fleeting second, I feel untouchable and powerful, lik