Selene practically danced her way into the living room, her voice light and full of excitement as she sang, "He loves me, he loves me, oh, he loves me!"
But the moment she stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted.
Her stepfather, George Devour, sat in his usual armchair, his posture rigid, his strong hands gripping the armrests. He was a man of power—tall, broad-shouldered, with neatly combed black hair that had just begun to gray at the temples. His expression was unreadable, but the tension in the air was suffocating.
To his left, her mother, Marla, sat stiffly on the plush sofa, her fingers gripping the hem of her dress. Across from her, on the opposite couch, lounged Flora—the Luna, the first wife of George and the undeniable thorn in Selene's life.
Flora was elegance personified, draped in a crisp white Gucci skirt suit that fit her like a glove. Every strand of her dark brown hair was pinned flawlessly, her manicured fingers lazily adjusting the diamond bracelet on her wrist. She exuded confidence, her deep red lips curling into a knowing smirk.
They had been in the middle of a conversation—one that came to a dead stop the second Selene walked in.
Flora was the first to break the silence, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Why don't you tell her now, George?"
Selene's smile faded as she hesitated at the entrance, suddenly feeling out of place. Her stepfather shifted uncomfortably before clearing his throat.
"Sit down, Selene. We need to talk."
Her heart stuttered. Why does this feel serious?
She cautiously moved to sit beside her mother, who refused to meet her gaze. George exhaled heavily, rubbing a hand over his face before finally looking at her—though his gaze was filled with hesitation.
"Selene," he began, voice unusually careful. "There's something... something I need to tell you."
Her stomach knotted.
He hesitated, then pushed forward. "We've signed a contract that requires you to…" He trailed off, sighing deeply before forcing the words out. "Marry the Alpha of the Ruins Pack."
Selene blinked, her ears ringing as her mother silently handed her a tablet.
She barely registered the action before her fingers shakily scrolled through the document. Lines of legal jargon blurred before her eyes, but the words marriage agreement and binding contract stood out in bold.
Her hands trembled as she clutched the device.
"You're… selling me?" she whispered, her voice barely holding together as it cracked under the weight of her disbelief.
---
"It's not like that," George said quickly, his tone firm but defensive. "You'll have a good life. He's an Alpha—a very rich and powerful man. Isn't that what every girl dreams of?"
Selene's chest tightened as the weight of his words sank in. Her vision blurred with unshed tears before they finally spilled over, hot and unrelenting.
"I just turned nineteen yesterday," she choked out. "I have a boyfriend who asked me out for the first time! I'm still in high school—I can't do this! Why don't you give him Cynthia instead?"
Flora, who had been calmly watching the exchange, suddenly stiffened in her seat.
Cynthia—her precious daughter. The firstborn of the family. Twenty-six years old and the epitome of perfection.
"You don't expect my daughter, Cynthia, to marry a terrorist as a mistress. No!" Flora spat, her usual grace slipping into pure disdain.
Selene's breath hitched.
"A mistress?" she shrieked. Her hands balled into fists as she turned to George, her body trembling.
George sighed heavily, rubbing a hand down his face. "Listen, Selene," he said, his voice now laced with something sterner. "Our pack is in danger. If you refuse this, we go to war."
His eyes darkened, and for the first time, she saw something close to fear in them.
"He's a dangerous, mindless brute," he admitted. "He's already taken over two packs, and now, he's coming for us."
He exhaled sharply before continuing, his voice almost pleading.
"We're begging you to shoulder this burden—just this once. For us. As a thank you for everything I've done for you. I rescued your mother and you when your father died. You were left hopeless, and I took you in. The least you can do is repay that kindness."
Selene turned to her mother, desperation in her eyes. "Mom… say something," she pleaded.
But Marla stayed silent. She sat there, stiff and emotionless, her hands folded tightly in her lap.
Because in the end, her words meant nothing.
She was just a mistress.
The final decision belonged to the Alpha. To the Luna. And their word was law.
Selene barely had time to process that betrayal before Flora's voice broke the silence—syrupy sweet and laced with malice.
"Don't cry, Selene," she said, tilting her head mockingly. "You'll finally be useful for once."
Selene shot to her feet, rage burning through her veins. Without another word, she turned on her heel and ran.
Up the stairs.
Through the hallway.
Into her room.
The door slammed shut with a deafening bang, rattling the walls.
Her chest heaved as she threw herself onto her bed, burying her face in the sheets as a broken sob tore through her.
For a long time, she just lay there, the agony twisting inside her.
Then, with shaking hands, she reached for her purse—the same one she had tossed onto the bed earlier—and fumbled for her phone.
She pressed the call button.
Her best friend's name flashed on the screen.
Ringing…
The call went straight to voicemail.
She tried again.
Nothing.
Again.
Still nothing.
A desperate, heart-wrenching scream ripped from her throat as she clutched the phone, her fingers digging into the fabric of her bedsheets.
And then, she broke.
Sobs wracked her body as she kicked her legs in frustration, her cries muffled by the soft comforter.
Because no matter how much she screamed, no matter how much she fought…
No one was listening.
---
Seconds faded into minutes, stretching endlessly.
Selene lay motionless on her bed, her tear-streaked face pressed against the pillow, her sobs long since reduced to silent hiccups.
Then, the distant roar of a motorcycle engine shattered the silence.
Her breath hitched.
She shot up from the bed, wiping her damp cheeks with trembling fingers, and hurried to her window overlooking the parking lot.
There, just as she expected, a lone rider pulled in, the sleek black bike gliding to a stop.
A sad smile tugged at her lips.
She had been waiting for her.