3.

Scarlet’s back slammed against the carved door as Ronan shoved it open with the force of a storm. 

His mouth was still on hers, brutal and consuming, swallowing the gasp that escaped her throat. He kicked the door shut, and the thud echoed like a verdict in the dimly lit chamber.

Her hands moved before her mind caught up, sliding up the hard lines of his chest, curling around his broad shoulders. She should have resisted. 

She should have thought about the consequences. But her body was a traitor, her hips arching, sliding against his with desperate hunger.

His growl rumbled through her chest, vibrating against her lips. “Bold little thing, aren’t you?”

Scarlet smirked against his mouth, her sass sparking even as her knees trembled. “What, you think I’m gonna beg you? Dream on, Alpha.”

That flicker of defiance lit something in his eyes. He gripped her hips, dragging her flush against him, his hardness grinding against the ache between her thighs. She gasped, head tipping back, but she didn’t give him the satisfaction of a plea.

“Careful,” he murmured, his lips trailing fire down her jaw, her throat. “You play with fire, you’ll get burned.”

Scarlet’s laugh was breathless, edged with desire. “Then set me on fire.”

Ronan’s answer was a snarl as he lifted her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his waist.

"So bold...I love this..." His wolf growled. 

He carried her to the bed, tossing her down onto the sheets like she weighed nothing. His mask clattered to the floor, and for the first time she saw his face unguarded...sharp, merciless, devastating.

Her breath hitched. Godess help her, she wanted him.

The night blurred into feverish heat...his mouth claiming every gasp, her nails raking his skin, the sheets twisting, tangling around their bodies. Scarlet wasn’t meek, wasn’t silent. She fought him with her lips, matched his hunger with her own. For once, she wasn’t the invisible shadow, wasn’t the wolfless burden.

She was alive. Desired. Seen.

When exhaustion finally claimed her, she fell asleep tangled in his arms, her head against his chest, lulled by the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

The morning shattered the illusion.

Scarlet blinked awake, the sunlight stabbing through velvet curtains. Her head pounded, her body sore in ways that made her blush. She shifted, and the warmth beside her stirred.

She froze.

Silver eyes opened, sharp even in the haze of sleep.

Ronan.

Her stomach dropped to her knees. Her heart thudded painfully.

No. No, no, no. This can’t...

She scrambled out of the bed, clutching the sheet to her chest. Every bruise, every kiss mark burned on her skin like evidence. Panic clawed her throat. If he remembered her...if he realized she was the “peace offering”...he’d kill her before she even got dressed.

She stumbled into her clothes, fumbling with the laces, her hands shaking. Ronan was still watching her, unreadable, his expression hard as stone. She didn’t wait for him to speak.

She bolted.

The corridor felt endless. Scarlet’s bare feet slapped against the cold floors as she raced for an exit. Her lungs burned, her heart hammering. But she didn’t make it far.

“Scarlet!”

The hiss snapped like a whip.

Her mother’s hand clamped onto her arm, jerking her sideways into an empty corridor. Liora stood there too, her gown immaculate, her mask tilted just enough to show her gloating smile.

Scarlet’s gut twisted.

The first slap came before she could speak. Her head snapped to the side, her cheek stinging.

“You filthy whore!” Helena snarled, her nails digging into Scarlet’s skin. “Do you know what you’ve done?”

Liora gasped, clutching her chest with mock innocence. “Mother, don’t be too hard on her. She doesn’t know her place.”

Scarlet bared her teeth, fighting the urge to crumble. “I know my place,” she spat, sassy even through the pain. “It’s just not beneath your spoiled little feet, Liora.”

Her sister’s smirk faltered for half a second. But Helena’s fury drowned out any victory. Another slap. A shove. Scarlet stumbled, her body too weak from the night before to fight back.

Liora stepped closer, lowering her voice so only Scarlet could hear. “Hickeys?” Her eyes glittered with cruel delight. “Gods, you’re pathetic. You think he’ll claim you? You’re nothing but a bedwarmer he won’t even remember.”

Scarlet, rage boiling, swung her hand and slapped her across the face. The crack echoed in the corridor.

Liora staggered, her eyes widening in shock before narrowing into fury.

“You’ll pay for that,” she hissed.

And she did. Together, Helena and Liora dragged Scarlet to the ground, blows raining down, fists and nails tearing at her until she was a bruised mess. Scarlet tried to fight, but exhaustion chained her limbs. Tears blurred her vision, but she bit them back. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of hearing her cry.

Finally, Helena yanked Scarlet’s head back by her hair. “Cover every mark. No one dares see what a disgrace you are.”

Liora crouched down, pulling a small vial from her sleeve. A tiny, blackened seed gleamed in her palm.

Scarlet’s gut churned.

“What is that?” she rasped.

Liora smirked, pressing the seed to Scarlet’s lips. “Mother’s special gift. Swallow it, dear sister. When Ronan remembers what happened last night, all he’ll see is a blur. No face. No name. Nothing. Exactly what you are.”

Scarlet twisted her head, but Helena pinched her jaw, forcing her mouth open. The seed slid down her throat, bitter and burning.

Liora’s laughter was soft, triumphant. “Now you’re just a shadow.”

Scarlet coughed, wiping her mouth, her eyes blazing. “Shadow or not, I’ll find a way out of this hell.”

They didn’t answer. They dragged her into another empty chamber, ripping her old dress off and shoving her into a new gown, their hands cruel, their words sharper.

“Hide the bruises.”

“Smile when you’re told.”

“Don’t you dare open your mouth.”

Scarlet’s reflection in the mirror looked like a stranger...painted, polished, hollow-eyed. A puppet for their schemes.

From the far end of the hall, Beta Alaric watched.

His jaw tightened as he saw Helena grip Scarlet’s hair, yanking her into the room like a dog on a leash. His gut twisted at the glimpse of bruises across her arm, half-hidden by silk.

He motioned to a guard. “What happened to her?”

The man shrugged, casual. “She’s clumsy. Always falling over herself. Nothing serious, Beta.”

Alaric’s eyes narrowed. He wasn’t convinced. Something stank here.

And worse...he’d made his own mistake.

Ronan had given him one order the night before: bring me a woman before nightfall. As he always did. A simple command.

But Alaric had lingered too long at the banquet, his glass never empty, laughter spilling louder as the night stretched on. He’d partied, drunk himself into oblivion, and forgotten.

And now, the dawn after, he woke with dread chilling his bones.

Because he knew one truth about serving Alpha Ronan...

Disobedience meant death.