Chapter 1

IRIS.

I used to have a wolf, but five days after I turned eighteen, I lost her. 

I still remember what happened as if it were just yesterday. 

On the night of my eighteenth birthday, I accompanied my half-sister to a festival. A chaos erupted, and we tried to run away. People were shouting, and then the stampede happened. We got separated, and the next thing I knew, I was in the middle of the swaying crowd, being pushed by everyone who wanted to get away from that place.

I stumbled and gripped the arm that was nearest to me. I felt the spark travel all over my body, activating the bond between me and my fated mate. 

Yes, I touched my fated mate that night.  

His masculine scent enveloped my senses all at once, putting me in a trance. It was too late when I realized the crowd had already pushed me. But I saw him—he was tall, and he towered over almost everyone—and I knew it was him. My fated mate. 

He kept turning around, as if looking for something or someone. I tried to call his attention, but no matter how much I screamed that I was there, he couldn’t hear me. Until he was already too far. Until I lost him. 

But I knew his name and who he was. I had always watched and admired him from afar. I couldn't believe he was mine. 

I tried to find him in the crowd, and when I couldn’t, I hurried home and told my family about it. 

Finding a fated mate is a rarity. Not everyone was lucky enough to find their other half. 

So I was excited, beyond ecstatic. I could finally get away from this house. I didn’t care that he was famous or had money. All I wanted was a chance for a better life. A life away from being my family’s slave. And maybe, he would let me continue my studies. 

But my happiness was short-lived. The family that I grew up with didn’t believe me. My stepmother slapped me, and my sister laughed at me. They called me a liar and a lunatic, especially when I told them his name. They said, like my mother, I wanted prestige even to the extent of lying.

I kept telling them I wasn’t making up stories.

I begged them to take me to him so I could prove it. They agreed, and we planned our visit to his territory. But I fell ill after a few days and spent a couple of days in bed. 

Then one morning, I woke up and my wolf was gone. I had no idea what happened to her. My father said I might have been too weak, that my wolf didn’t survive when I got a high fever. 

I mourned for my wolf, but it didn’t stop me from wanting to meet my mate. 

The day of the meeting finally came. 

I, together with my whole family, traveled to my mate’s pack. All the way to his territory, I kept rehearsing the things I would tell him. I was filled with joy and excitement at the prospect of becoming his mate. 

My mate was an Alpha, which meant that I was his destined Luna. Despite not having a wolf, I wanted to believe he would still accept me. A fated mate is a blessing, and not everyone is fortunate to have one. 

I was expecting that meeting him would become the best day of my life. 

But the exact opposite happened. It became the worst.

Alpha Draco of the Knight’s Stone Pack appeared in front of us and growled, “Mate,” like I knew he would. 

Yes, he found his mate.

But it wasn’t me.

It was my sister, Felicity.

My whole world CRUMBLED as the life I envisioned for myself was stolen before my eyes. I watched in agony as Alpha Draco held my sister's hand and introduced her as his mate to the people around us while I was pushed back and ignored even by my whole family. But like always, I kept my mouth shut. 

I was confused. I almost believed I’d gone crazy, hallucinating like what my family had been telling me. 

Until I found the cuff links that I was able to rip from his shirt when I grabbed him on that festival night. His initials were carved into it. Yes, it could be anyone, but in my heart, I knew it was his. 

For many months, I held on to the only thing that connected me to him while I watched my sister bask in the love and attention that he was giving her—a life that was supposed to be mine. 

I eventually reached a breaking point. I confronted my family and told them that I would tell my mate the truth. They laughed at me. They told me to go ahead and make a fool of myself. But the next thing I knew, I was thrown into a small and dark room that was locked from the outside. I was not given food and water for many days. It had nothing except a blanket that smelled like someone had died on it. 

There was no light, no bed, or chair. So I comforted myself by hugging my knees every time I thought about how my family had wronged me. 

My only source of light, the small gap in the wall that let me see outside, was also my source of misery. I could see whenever my mate would come and visit my sister. I witnessed it when he asked permission to take her home. 

This was what they’d been waiting for. He would finally make her his Luna. And I heard when my stepmother talked about getting me out of the way—permanently. 

It served as the wake-up call I needed. My family had no intention of keeping me alive. So when my stepmother came in to give me something to drink, which I knew must be poisoned, I slammed the wood of the broken chair that had been sitting in the corner onto her back. She collapsed on the dingy floor, and I wasted no time running out of my prison. 

I ran out of the house and out of their lives. 

For many days, I kept running. I was hungry and worn out. I was moving with no food or sleep, but I kept going. I had no idea where I was headed. All I knew was that I needed to reach the city so I could start asking about my mate. 

But it didn’t come to that. Someone found me in the forest and offered to help me. 

Constantine. 

My first mistake was thinking that many people out there had good intentions. The next one was believing that Constantine was a friend and that letting him take me to his home was a good decision.  

I managed to escape from hell, only to find myself thrown back into it. Only this time, it wasn’t just my freedom that was taken from me. Constantine broke my body and whatever was left of my spirit. 

Yes, he married me, but he has been a husband from hell since day one. 

He assaulted me and took my virginity on our wedding night. No matter how much I pleaded that I was in pain, he didn’t stop. And it kept happening. Day after day. Night after night. 

He wanted a son, and he wanted me to give him one. 

I couldn’t do anything for my life anymore. I was already trapped in this hell, but I promised myself that I would never give him a child. I would never allow my child to experience the suffering I endured. 

So, I applied what I had learned about herbs. The years of playing alone in nature and studying things on my own led me to discover an herbal tea that could serve as a contraception for women. It came in handy, so I made it tirelessly and drank it religiously. 

I succeeded. I never got pregnant. 

It frustrated my husband, and he didn’t hesitate to show it. I got hit, kicked, and spat on. I had heard every demeaning name a man could give to a lowly female. I took it all. But I didn’t stop making that herb potion, and I didn’t stop drinking it.

Eventually, he grew tired of waiting and took in women as his mistresses. They came, one after the other. If, after a month, they could not get pregnant, they were cast out, and another one would come. 

Except for me. I remained in the house. I was the legal wife but was treated as a servant. Even his mistresses, regardless of their length of stay, held a higher status than I.  

But it was better that way. With his mistresses around, he would only use me when they couldn’t satisfy him. 

So my life just became a cycle of pain and sadness, and I just let it take me where it wanted me to go. I had also come to accept that the fated mate I touched and scented that night was not the Alpha that was mated to my sister. I finally let go of any thoughts of him, together with my dreams and my hope that better days would still come for me.

I was living day by day, expecting nothing. I cowered in the presence of guests and rarely went out of our house. My small room in the basement was my favorite place. It was better than the big room I had to be in whenever Constantine wanted me to pleasure him. 

I thought I had already experienced the worst that life could give me. 

I was wrong again. 

Tonight, Constantine decided it was time to share me with another man.

“Did you shave like I told you to do?” Marion, Constantine’s current mistress, held me by the ear as she dragged me out of the guest room they allowed me to use while I put on the clothes they wanted me to wear.

I nodded. 

“Now, if he tells you to open your legs, open them! If we hear him complain, you will get more than what you got last time.” 

She was referring to the lashes I was given when I shoved the plates off the dining table when Constantine told me I needed to have sex with his guest. I was whipped, but they treated me the next day so that no scars would show. 

“Did you hear me?” She pinched my ear, and I flinched, still being dragged toward the stairs. 

I nodded my head, a little too much, so she would see my response. 

We reached the third floor, where Constantine’s guest was staying, and we stopped a few doors away from his. 

“Here, put this on.” She took out something from her pocket—a veil that would conceal my face, leaving only my eyes exposed. “Do not take it off until you’re in the dark. Or he might get turned off if he sees your ugly face.”

I nodded. I didn’t contest. I knew I didn’t look the same as I did when I first arrived here. I was already too skinny, and my skin was too pale. 

After she placed the veil on my face, she scanned my clothes one more time. She had given me a costume that resembled Jasmine’s clothes in the story of Aladdin. Only mine were not harem pants but a long skirt with a long slit. My breasts were pushed up, and my stomach was exposed. I also had nothing underneath my skirt. 

I was told not to struggle during the act, but I knew I still would. I was already expecting I would get sore after he was done with me. Not only because of sex, but because I knew I would be hit in the process. I kept telling myself this would just be another episode whenever my husband would touch me. It was the only way I could stomach this. 

Marion knocked on the door, and after a while, someone inside responded. 

“Come in…” His deep baritone voice sent shivers down my spine. 

I couldn’t explain what emotion rushed through me, but I didn’t have time to contemplate as she already opened the door and slightly pushed me forward. 

“Make sure you do whatever he wants.” She reminded me again before she fully pushed me forward and closed the door behind me.

The room was dimly lit, and the man waiting for me was sitting on a chair facing his desk, but he slowly swiveled around to look at me, making my mouth drop open when I finally saw his face. 

“Mate…” I mumbled.