Chapter 6

Selena’s POV

I wanted to scream.

But I didn’t.

I wanted to reach across the room and claw that smug, aristocratic expression off his face. To leave behind marks he couldn’t hide, scars that would remind him every time he looked in the mirror that I was not nothing. That I was not something.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I stood there.

Frozen.

With just my heart beat and how pained I was feeling by his words.

Something like you.

He’d said it with that chilling calm, like I wasn’t a person but a category. A class. A flaw. Like I was filth.

I didn’t even want him to know my history.

Not my name or origin

But attests the fact that I was…

Just… something.

The insult settled in my chest, repeating severally in my ears.

Gods.

He didn’t even blink.

He’d said it so easily, like stepping on a leaf. As if it cost him nothing to humiliate me. As if my pain was less than dust beneath his boots.

As if I should be grateful to breathe the same air.

I tightened my grip on my bag, the same tatttered kne i had packed with high hopes of getting atleast a well paying job.

My knuckles were already white but I could not loose my grip.

I wasn’t locked

At least not anymore

But I still felt humiliated and by what?

Just one sentence?

One sentence that seemed to degrade my entire existence.

I followed him.

Silently.

Dragging my belongings behind me, I heard the material scratch the floors

Loud enough for both of us to hear

But he didn’t react

To tell me to handle the bag properly.

My head stayed high, even though everything inside me wanted to curl up and scream.

But I wouldn’t let him have that.

No more pieces of me for men to trample.

No more tears for wolves with pretty eyes and venom in their mouths.

Arrogant wolf bastard.

Thinks he’s better because he was born with a title and teeth.

Thinks power makes him untouchable.

So what if I was a commoner? So what if I didn’t have lands or gold or ancestors with crests on their rings?

I was still a being. Still whole. Still a woman who had bled and crawled and survived every betrayal thrown her way.

And I would survive him too.

I kept my distance, close enough to follow, far enough to keep my dignity from brushing the soles of his expensive boots.

He didn’t glance back. Not once.

Of course not.

Men like him never did.

They just expected obedience.

They loved the silence

Acted like they owned it

. Expected you to fall in line because what other choice did you have?

And the cruelest part?

He looked like him.

Facial features and all

I hated it

The only thing that out them apart was the build

Zevran could never dream of a build like this.

Same eyes.

Cold. Unreadable. Unfeeling.

Zevran.

The name tasted bitter in my mouth.

I hated that I could even think of him

The reason why I was here

Why my world was ruined

Why I was decorated wanted

And now… this Alpha.

Cassian.

It was like the Moon Goddess had taken my worst nightmares and dressed them in finer clothes. Like the universe had conjured a more powerful, more cruel version of the man who had already broken me.

More entitled. More dangerous. More… Alpha.

My throat burned, but I didn’t show it. Not here. Not now.

I’d already bled for love once.

I wouldn’t let pride be the next thing I lost.

Finally, we reached the hallway at the heart of the estate. The walls here were different—no longer bare and stone, this one was grey, with splashes of white

The splashes look unintentional

I loved the concept

Like he still had a bit of innocence

Paintings hung in gold frames. The floors were polished to a mirror shine.

Cassian stopped in front of a tall double door. Dark wood. Intricately carved. The air around it even smelled different—like cedar, smoke, and something mild but expensive.

His room.

Of course.

He pushed the door open without a glance at me and stepped inside like he was returning to his throne.

I paused.

Stood at the threshold, my fingers tightening around my bag handle once more.

I swallowed

Holding the gap that lay at the back of my tongue

The paint

The king sized bed.

The painting .

The whole space screamed masculinity. Authority. Ownership.

It reeked of him.

I walked in slowly, my boots soft against the thick rug.

Then I dropped my bags by the door with a quiet thud.

That was where I belonged, apparently. In the margins. At the edge.

That was all the space I intended to take.

He turned to me.

Hands in his pockets.

The calm expression that never seemed to leave his face.

And tyat look

More like he already knew what I’d say before I even said it.

And gods, that smirk.

It made my stomach twist.

He was enjoying this. My discomfort. My silence. My submission.

He was drinking it in.

“Your job,” he said at last, voice low and measured, “requires more than just keeping an eye on Sisi.”

I said nothing.

Didn’t blink.

But my muscles tensed,

Like they were already ready for impact.

He stepped forward.

Closer.

Too close.

Close enough that I could smell his cologne, earth and leather and something darker.

“You’ll be acting as my Luna,” he expressed casually.

More of a command.

“For her sake. You’ll perform the Luna rites publicly and maybe,” he paused, his eyes going over my body once more,

“privately.”

I blinked.

Once.

I stared at him, the words slow to settle in my brain.

Was this real?

Was this a joke?

Was I still chained in the dungeon and hallucinating?

My lips parted.

But no sound came out.

Not yet.

Not until I understood exactly what he meant.

Not until I peeled back every layer of this twisted arrangement and saw the monster inside.

But deep in my gut, I already knew.

This wasn’t just a job.

This wasn’t just childcare.

This wasn’t just humiliation.

This was control.

This was theater.

This was the beginning of something darker, deeper… crueler.

Something I couldn’t walk away from.