Bound To My Father’s Foe
Isabelle Garciamated to the cold hearted alphasorry, alpha. i don't want to be your mistressrejected by my alpha wanted by the lycan kingmated to my fiancé’s alpha king brother
There was a desk covered in papers, shelves full of books, a fireplace with a real fire burning—orange and yellow flames that looked wrong after seeing nothing but purple for so long.
But what caught my attention were the portraits.
They covered every wall, dozens of them, all different sizes. And they were all of the same girl. A little girl with dark hair and bright eyes and a smile that looked like it could light up the whole world.
Lyra.
In one portrait, she was a baby sleeping in a cradle. In another, she was maybe three years old, holding a stuffed animal. There was one of her at five, missing her front teeth. Another at seven, wearing a pretty dress and a flower crown.
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