Sold To The Monster: The Wolfless Bride

ADALINE POV:

A scream clawed its way up my throat, but no sound came out.

My eyes flew open. The rough linen of my pillowcase scratched against my cheek. Darkness pressed in, thick and suffocating, the kind that lives in the space just before dawn.

A phantom pressure still circled my neck.

My own hands flew to my throat, fingers tracing the tender skin. It felt bruised, aching with a memory that wasn't mine. Not yet.

The vision clung to me, more real than the threadbare blanket tangled around my legs. A man in a silver mask, his grip like iron, my own frantic, useless struggle. The final, sickening snap.

My breath came in ragged gasps. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence of the room. It was the third time this week. The same man. The same end.

A wave of nausea rolled through me. Was it a dream? Or was it a warning? The mark on my shoulder-that crescent birthmark I'd always been told was a curse-throbbed with a dull, insistent heat. The visions had started the night it first pulsed with warmth. I was beginning to understand: they weren't nightmares. They were glimpses of futures yet to come.

The memory of my father's voice from last night was just as chilling. Cold. Final. "Bristol is too delicate for such a... difficult match. You will go in her place."

I was to be married.

Not just married, but sold. Handed over to Kaleb Caldwell, the Alpha of the Caldwell Pack. A man whispered about in terrified tones, a monster, a cripple who ruled his territory with unmatched brutality. And I, a wolfless daughter, was the expendable substitute.

The door creaked open, a sliver of light cutting through the gloom.

My younger sister, Bristol, glided in. She held a glass of water, her face a perfect mask of gentle concern.

"Adaline? I heard you cry out. Another nightmare?"

Her voice was soft, like honey. It used to soothe me. Now, it made the bile rise in my throat.

She set the glass on my rickety nightstand. "I'm so sorry about this, truly. It's not fair. But it's for the good of the Pack."

I watched her, my throat too tight to speak. Through the haze of my own fear, I saw it. A flicker of something in the depths of her blue eyes. It was gone as quickly as it came, but I saw it.

It was a victory and a liberation.

My stomach twisted into a knot of ice.

She reached out, her cold fingers tucking a strand of my black hair behind my ear. "Alpha Kaleb is... very powerful. I'm certain you'll be safe."

The unspoken words hung between us. Better you than me. The pity in her voice was a lie, a thin veil over her glee.

I flinched away from her touch, a small, involuntary movement.

At that, Bristol let out a theatrical little sniffle, her voice wavering as she deliberately raised it toward the half-open door: "I know you hate me for this, Adaline, but please-don't take it out on me. I'm only the messenger. I didn't choose this." She dabbed at her eyes with a sleeve, though no tears fell.

She didn't seem to notice my disgust. Or she chose to ignore it. This was the sister I had protected, the one I had taken punishments for. This was her gratitude.

Heavy footsteps approached from the hallway, then paused just outside the door. I heard a sharp intake of breath-Brennen had been listening. The silence stretched for a heartbeat, thick with fury.

The door, which Bristol had left ajar, was kicked fully open, slamming against the wall.

My brother, Brennen, stood there, his face contorted with rage. His eyes, the same blue as Bristol's, were storm clouds. "I heard her crying," he snarled, jabbing a trembling finger at me. "What did you say to her, you worthless wolfless?"

Bristol immediately crumpled, her face dissolving into tears. She scurried behind him, grabbing his arm.

"Brennen, no," she sobbed, her voice dripping with practiced innocence. "She didn't mean it. She's just upset about the wedding."

Her performance was flawless. The damsel in distress. The victim.

And I was the villain.

Brennen's fury, fed by her tears, exploded. "Upset? This wolfless waste of space is upsetting you."

He lunged forward before I could react. His hand clamped onto my shoulder, fingers digging into the bone. He hauled me from the bed.

My body, still weak from sleep and fear, offered no resistance.

My head cracked against the corner of the nightstand. A flash of white-hot pain, and the room swam with black spots. The glass of water Bristol had brought teetered, then crashed to the floor, shattering.

Brennen yanked me up by my chin, his face inches from mine. His breath was hot and smelled of stale coffee. "You remember your place," he snarled. "You are a substitute. A disgrace. You are nothing."

From behind him, Bristol let out a small gasp. It sounded less like fear and more like a thrill. "Brother, please. You'll hurt her."

He shoved me away. I stumbled, my legs giving out, and collapsed onto the worn rug. The shards of glass dug into my palm as I tried to break my fall.

"Learn some obedience," Brennen spat, looming over me. "It's the only thing that might keep that cripple from tearing you apart on your wedding night."

I lay there, my hair hiding my face. The pain in my head, my shoulder, my hand-it was a symphony of agony. But it was his words, Bristol's silent victory, that truly shredded me.

Then, another flash.

Not the masked man this time. It was Brennen. His face, twisted in a similar rage. His hands, not on my shoulder, but around my neck. The life draining out of me on this very floor, after a beating that went too far.

It wasn't just a possibility. It was a future. My future, if I did nothing.

The mark on my shoulder burned like a brand, and with it came a surge of clarity. The visions weren't random. They were the Goddess's gifts-warnings of what would come if I remained passive. The masked man's killing blow. Brennen's murderous hands. They were all futures I could still change.

The terror was a tidal wave, but something else rose with it. Something hot and sharp.

Rage.

A deep, burning hatred that tasted like blood and ash. It was a power I had never felt before, a fire in my veins where only fear had lived.I would not die a victim.

I would not let the Goddess's warnings be in vain.

Slowly, I pushed myself up, ignoring the glass in my palm. I lifted my head, letting my tangled hair fall away from my face.

I met Brennen's furious gaze.

My own eyes, I knew, were no longer filled with the familiar terror he loved to see. They were cold. They were burning.

He actually took a step back, a flicker of shock on his face. That momentary hesitation, that crack in his dominance, was all I needed.

His shock quickly curdled back into anger. "What are you looking at, you-"

"Brennen, stop."

The voice was calm, cold, and cut through Brennen's rage like a blade.

My oldest brother, Blain, the heir to the Oakhaven Pack, leaned against the doorframe. His arms were crossed over his chest, his expression one of utter boredom. He looked at the scene-the shattered glass, me on the floor, Brennen poised to strike-as if it were a mild inconvenience.

"Father wants to see her," he said, his eyes finally landing on me. There was no sympathy there. Only a command.

Brennen grunted, clearly frustrated at being interrupted. He shot me one last venomous glare before stomping out of the room.

Bristol followed, a final, perfect tear tracing a path down her cheek. As she passed me, she leaned down, her sweet voice a venomous whisper only I could hear.

"Good luck, sister."

ADALINE POV:

Blain's presence lingered in the doorway, a silent, chilling authority that had successfully caged Brennen's physical rage. For now.

His gaze swept over me, a quick, dismissive inventory. His eyes had flickered to Bristol first, a silent check. The way a farmer might assess livestock. I was a commodity, and he was checking for damage.

"Father is not a patient man," he said, his voice flat. "Don't waste his time."

Brennen, halfway down the hall, yelled back, his voice muffled. "I was just teaching the worthless bitch a lesson!"

Blain didn't even turn. "If she shows up at the Caldwell's doorstep covered in bruises, it's the Mathews family name that looks weak. Do you want Father to deal with the consequences of your stupidity?"

That hit its mark. Brennen's defining traits were his temper and his fear of our father. He muttered a curse, and his footsteps receded down the hall, Bristol's lighter steps pattering after him.

Finally, Blain's cold eyes met mine one last time. It wasn't a look of concern. It was a warning. "His study. Thirty minutes. Make yourself presentable."

Then he was gone, leaving me in the wreckage of my room.

My body screamed in protest as I pushed myself to my feet. Each breath was a sharp stab in my side. I shuffled to the small, cracked mirror above my dresser.

The girl staring back was a stranger. Her lip was split, a dark bruise already purpling on her cheekbone. But it was her eyes that held me. They were dark, hollowed out by fear, but deep inside, a new, hard light was kindling.

I thought I was alone. I was wrong.

"Sister, are you alright? Brennen can be so... impulsive."

I didn't have to turn. I could see Bristol's reflection in the mirror, her face once again a perfect portrait of worried innocence. She had circled back.

I said nothing, just held her gaze in the glass.

For a second, she seemed unsettled by the coldness she saw there. A flicker of uncertainty crossed her features.

But the actress in her recovered quickly. She moved closer, holding out a small ceramic pot. "I brought you some healing salve. For your face. Father will be angry if he sees."

Her concern wasn't for me. It was for the trouble my appearance might cause.

My voice came out as a dry rasp. "I don't need your help."

Her hand froze mid-air. The sweet smile on her face tightened, then vanished completely. The mask was off.

"Don't be a fool, Adaline," she hissed, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "Do you really think you're in any position to have an attitude with me?"

She moved to stand in front of me, blocking my reflection. Her eyes were hard, glittering with malice. "You're the one being shipped off to marry that crippled monster, not me. You should be thanking me. I'm giving you the chance to be a Luna. Even if it's the Luna of a broken Alpha."

Every word was a carefully aimed dart, designed to inflict maximum pain. A week ago, it would have shattered me.

Now, it just fueled the cold fire inside.

I felt a ghost of a smile touch my own bruised lips. It was a bitter, unfamiliar feeling.

Her face twisted in fury. "What are you smiling at? You wolfless freak! You will never be better than me!"

"I'm smiling at how naive you are," I said, my voice quiet but steady. "You think you've escaped Kaleb Caldwell and won the grand prize."

A new vision, hazy and indistinct, flickered at the edge of my mind. Bristol, older, in a lavish room, her face bruised far worse than mine, cowering before a handsome, smiling Alpha.

The words came to me, a prophecy I didn't know I had. "You've just traded one cage for a prettier one. You'll run from the monster you know, right into the arms of a monster you don't."

The color drained from her face. My words had struck a nerve, a hidden fear she must have harbored. Then, her shock morphed into pure rage.

She raised her hand to slap me.

This time, I was ready. My hand shot out, my grip clumsy and weak, but I caught her wrist.

It wasn't my strength that stopped her. It was my eyes. The look in them. The absolute absence of fear. She stared at me, truly seeing me for the first time, and what she saw terrified her.

"From this moment on," I said, each word a stone dropping into a deep well, "we are done. You and I. The bond of sisters is broken. You can walk your own path to hell."

I released her wrist, shoving her hand away.

I turned my back on her, a final act of dismissal. I walked to my small wardrobe and began pulling out the plainest, most severe dress I owned. I would face my father, but I would do it on my own terms.

Behind me, Bristol stood frozen, her face a maelstrom of confusion and fury.

ADALINE POV:

I chose a high-necked, long-sleeved gray dress. It was the color of ash, of endings. It hid the worst of the bruises on my arms and chest, but there was no hiding the swelling on my cheek. It was a banner of my family's cruelty, and I would wear it into my father's den.

My ribs screamed with every step down the long, silent hallway. The walls were lined with portraits of the Mathews lineage. Alphas and Lunas, smiling with cold, predatory confidence. My face was not among them. I was a ghost in my own home.

I should have known he'd be waiting for me.

Brennen stood outside the heavy oak door of our father's study, blocking my path. His arms were crossed, his weight shifted in a brawler's stance.

"Bristol came to me crying," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "What did you do to her?"

I didn't have the energy for this. The pain in my side was a sharp, insistent blade. I tried to sidestep him.

His hand shot out, grabbing my arm in a bruising grip. "A wolfless stray doesn't get to walk away from me." He shoved me, hard.

My back slammed against the wall. The impact knocked the air from my lungs in a pained gasp. The world tilted, a dizzying swirl of polished wood and muted light.

He was on me in an instant, his face a mask of contempt. His fist drove into my stomach.

I doubled over, a strangled cry caught in my throat. Blackness encroached on the edges of my vision. I bit down on my lip, tasting the coppery tang of blood, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a scream.

His failure to break me only fueled his rage. He grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back until my neck strained. "Beg," he hissed, his face close to mine. "Beg me to stop, just like you always do."

I looked into his eyes, those cold, empty blue eyes, and a raw, defiant energy surged through me. A bloody, broken smile stretched my lips.

"Is this... all you have?" I choked out.

It was the spark that lit the fuse.

His face contorted, all reason gone, replaced by pure, animalistic fury. He brought his knee up, a brutal, driving impact into my side.

A sickening crack echoed in the silent hallway.

The world dissolved into a universe of white-hot agony. It consumed me, stole my breath, my sight, my sanity. But through the blinding pain, I kept my eyes locked on his. I would not look away. I would make him see what he had done.

The study door swung open.

Our father, Alpha Coleman Mathews, stood on the threshold. He took in the scene-me crumpled against the wall, Brennen standing over me, breathing heavily-and his only reaction was a slight narrowing of his eyes.

"That's enough," he said, his voice devoid of any emotion. "Don't kill her. She's still useful."

His gaze shifted to me. "Inside. Now."

Pain was a fire, licking at every nerve, but I clung to the wall, using it to haul myself upright. Each movement was a fresh wave of torture. I shuffled past my father, into the suffocating, leather-scented air of his study.

This was it. The last time I would enter this room as his daughter. From now on, I was just a commodity. A thing to be sold.

KALEB POV:

The air in my study was cold and still. Moonlight, sharp and sterile as a silver blade, sliced through the towering arched window, but it brought no warmth. It only illuminated the dust motes dancing in the oppressive silence.

I sat with my back to the door, facing the endless, moon-drenched forest that was my domain. My kingdom. My prison.

The polished metal of my wheelchair's armrest was cold beneath my fingertips.

My Beta, Silas Knight, knelt on one knee in the center of the room. His loyalty was as solid and unwavering as the ancient oaks outside.

"Alpha," his voice was a low, steady rumble, "a final message from Oakhaven. The bride they are sending is Adaline Mcleod. Not Bristol Mathews."

I didn't turn. My fingers began to tap a slow, deliberate rhythm on the armrest. Tap. Tap. Tap. The sound was unnervingly loud in the quiet room.

They were swapping out the goods. A last-minute insult. A test of my tolerance.

After a long moment, I spoke. My voice was a gravelly rasp, a sound that had lost its warmth long ago. "One daughter for another. What is the difference?"

Silas hesitated. "None, Alpha. It is only... the rumors about Adaline Mcleod. They say she is a wolfless. Frail."

A laugh, dry and humorless as rattling bones, escaped my lips. "A wolfless outcast," I mused, the words tasting like ash. "Paired with a crippled Alpha." I could feel the bitter twist of my own mouth beneath the impassive silver of my mask. "How fitting."

The irony wasn't lost on me. Oakhaven was sending their weakest, most worthless daughter to marry a dying Alpha. They thought I was too broken to care, too desperate to object. They were half right. The woman's status meant nothing to me. But the insult-that I might notice-that stung more than I wanted to admit.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop another ten degrees.

I wheeled myself closer to the massive window, the glass cool against my knuckles. My gaze pierced the darkness, aimed eastward, toward the lands of Oakhaven. I felt no anger. No anticipation. Nothing.

Just a vast, frozen emptiness.

"Tell them I accept," I commanded, my voice flat. "Tell her to prepare herself for her new life." I paused, the reflection of my masked face a ghostly specter in the dark glass. "Or her death."

The words tasted like ash. But I meant them. If she was as frail as they claimed, she wouldn't survive the first winter in my territory. And if she did... well, there were worse fates than being a dead man's Luna.