Chapter 2

Larisa's Pov

I wasn't meant to be there.

I was supposed to be locked in my room like always but I told myself I was fed up with the lies and accusing stares I got from everyone. I didn't kill Hazel and he needed to know that.

I plucked out a hairpin I hid in my hair and picked the lock. When it clicked, I peeked out to see if there were any guards crawling the hallway like they always do but there was no one there. I exhaled a sigh and slipped away before anyone would notice.

I rehearsed what I would say. I would begin with an apology and then move on to tell father what really happened that night. Then, I would tell him to silence the harsh rumours and return my peace to me. I'd lost it for 5 years and needed it back.

But the moment I reached the council room, I heard it &— father's voice, low and serious, followed by a stranger's voice.

Curiosity tugged at me. I told myself that I should've walked away. I should've respected his closed doors and political boundaries. but I couldn't. Couldn't move when I wanted to.

I stopped and I listened.

“She will marry him.” Father said firmly.

“But she's the last of your bloodline,” the other voice, Father Morris, the spokesman of the Red Moon Pack, replied. “Are you sure she'll even agree?”

“She doesn't have to agree,” my father snapped. “She'll do it. She's loyal to me. To his pack. Just like her sister was.”

What?

My blood ran cold.

My breath caught somewhere between my chest and throat. I took a step back, and the wooden floor creaked. Loud enough to betray me. Loud enough for them to hear.

The door flew open before I could run. Father's piercing green eyes locked on mine.

“Larisa.” He said in a chilly voice. “Come inside. Now.”

I swallowed hard and inched forward.

The office felt like another prison.

Father Morris looked at me like I was a prized cow being fattened for slaughter. I didn't sit. I didn't speak. I waited.

“You were listening,” my father said.

“I heard enough.” I whispered.

“Then you know what's at stake here.” He said.

At stake? You've gotta be kidding me.

I snapped. “Know what's at stake here?! Bullshit! I know what you're willing to sacrifice. Me!”

Father walked behind his desk and took a seat. “We need the Red Moon Pack, Larisa. Their mines are rich with ironstone enough to forge weapons to hold off the Rogues for decades. And they need our numbers, our Lycan warriors. This alliance will save both our packs.”

“And the price is me? Is that it?”

A beat of silence followed.

Father Morris folded his arms and turned to me. “You'll be marrying our Alpha, Alpha Killian.”

My stomach twisted. Alpha Killian Rivers? That was Hazel's mate. Her death wasn't even up to two years.

“I'm not some — some bargaining chip.” I snapped again. “I'm not some replacement!”

“You are this pack's only hope!” Father banged his fist on the table. “And you will do your duty!”

That was it.

The decision had already been made.

No questions asked.

No choice for me to make.

It's done.

“Your wedding will be held in a month's time,” Father Morris straightened his coat. “It'll give you enough time to get ready.”

I looked at father, he was all smirk and smiles, shaking hands with him, selling me off without blinking.

I had a wedding in a month.

A marriage I never asked for and to a man I couldn't love.

Father couldn't look me in the eyes. He told me it was all for the good of the pack.

Well, fuck him.

I turned out of the room, ignoring his calls and yells.

The last thing I wanted was to be near him. Near that house.

I might lose him.

I took a cab to God knows where, looking out the windows. My eyes fell on a familiar bar.

It wasn't the type of place someone of my status should be seen around but I didn't care. I didn't have a good reputation anyway.

The bar was loud, dim, and far enough from the mansion. I bet no one here would recognize me or maybe they did and just didn't care.

I shouldered my way to the counter and ordered something strong.

After downing the glass, I ordered another. I needed to forget. I needed the burn in my throat to be louder than the scream in my chest.

Somewhere between my fourth and sixth drink, I started to feel light. The kind of light that only comes right before a crash.

I barely remembered the man who slid into the barstool beside me.

Tall. Broad shoulders. A jaw that looked like it had taken a few hits in its time. His voice was deep, a little light around the edges, like gravel soaked in whiskey.

“You look like the world just punched you in the face,” he said.

I laughed. “Yup. Took the last hit with a smile though.”

He laughed. “You're a tough one.”

We talked. I think. I can't remember what we talked about. Everything felt hazy, like I was swimming through fog.

But I remember his eyes — grey, unforgiving, familiar, but I didn't place it.

Didn't care.

There was a fire in my veins and an ache I needed to drown out, and he was there — solid, warm, real.

He leaned in and I didn't pull away.

One thing led to another, and the next thing I knew, his hands were on my hips, and his lips were on mine. It wasn't sweet and it wasn't gentle either. It was wild and reckless and exactly what I needed.

He didn't ask for my name and I didn't ask for his.

And I didn't realize, couldn't have realized, that I had just spent the night with the one man my father would've forvideen me from ever touching.

The Rogue Alpha.

But that was tomorr

ow's problem.

Tonight, I was just a girl who needed to get wild and forget her pain.

And he was the perfect stranger who let me.