"Rose, give her one of your dresses," Rebecca said, barely glancing up as she continued dabbing herbs against her husband's bloodied skin. Darius winced, groaning as the mixture stung his wounds.
"I can't marry him, Auntie. I don't even know him!" Yusa burst out, her voice cracking under the weight of panic, like the words themselves were choking her.
The entire room froze. Four heads snapped in her direction—her uncle, aunt, and her two cousins, all staring like she had suddenly grown horns. Yusa, who never raised her voice. Yusa, who always stayed in her place. And now this?
"What did you say?" Rose asked, her voice laced with disbelief as she stepped forward, eyes narrowed.
"I can't marry him… please," Yusa repeated, softer this time, the fight draining from her voice. Tears blurred her vision, sliding down her cheeks one after the other.
She didn't even know Kael was the Alpha—not until the hours agowhen her aunt shoved her into the spotlight like a pawn being sacrificed. But it wasn't just his title. The idea of marrying a man that old, a man she didn't love, a man with blood on his hands and ice in his eyes, it felt insane. Everything in her body screamed no.
From the start, marriage had never been part of her plan. Her aunt and uncle had made the concept look like a prison sentence, one filled with regret and shouting matches. Yusa had dreamed of freedom. Of running her own flower shop someday. She'd even been saving secretly, one tip at a time. Getting married? That wasn't in the script—especially not like this.
A slap cracked across her face, sharp and hot. Her head snapped sideways from the impact.
"This is the least you can do for us, you know?" Rose hissed, her hands balled into fists. "After everything we've done for you, this is the f*cking least you can do. You want my parents to die, huh? That it?"
Yusa's cheeks burned, not just from the slap but from the heat of shame. She wanted to scream, 'Why don't you save them yourselves?' But she knew better than to speak that aloud. That kind of truth would only earn her another bruise.
The Andrews had taken her in after her father left for the war and never returned. Her mother had died giving birth to her. She had no one else. The couple had opened their doors to her, but their hearts? Not really. The second she arrived, everything in their life began to crumble, or so they claimed. Jobs lost, business slowdowns, savings drained. Yusa had been labeled a curse before she even understood what that meant.
They gave her an education—up until she turned thirteen. After that, she worked at the florist shop alongside her aunt, waking up before the sun to prepare deliveries and clean. Her uncle had a different plan: wait until she turned eighteen, until she got her wolf, and then marry her off to someone wealthy enough to cover Rose's college tuition. She was a means to an end. A transaction dressed in human skin.
But her wolf never came. Eighteen came and went, and there was nothing. No shift. No fur. No howl. Just silence. That sealed it. To them, she wasn't just cursed anymore—she was defective.
"This isn't right, Mother. He wanted Rose, didn't he?" Josiah finally spoke, his voice gruff.
Rebecca turned and shot him a sharp glare that shut him up.
Yusa didn't feel comforted by his words. She remembered all too well how Josiah had cornered her in the hallway one night, pressing her against the wall. His breath hot on her neck. The way his hand gripped her waist, how he whispered that he could make her his if she'd just stop fighting it. The kiss he planted on her neck without permission. The way her body froze in disgust.
Now she had to choose between him—a cousin who didn't care about bloodlines or consent—and a fifty-six-year-old Alpha with a violent streak and a house full of women he treated like property. There was no version of this where she won.
"Enough with all this nonsense!" Darius shouted, his voice cutting through the room. "You're going to marry the Alpha, Yusa. And that's final. Josiah, make sure she doesn't leave this house. Under no circumstances."
Just like that, her fate was sealed.
Yusa cried herself to sleep that night on the lumpy, worn-out couch, her face pressed into the armrest to muffle the sound. Her uncle sat nearby, watching like a guard dog. She wasn't going anywhere. And part of her didn't even want to try. What was she supposed to run to? The streets?
She whispered a prayer before sleep finally took her. "Please. Don't let the sun rise. Not tomorrow. Not for this."
But the sun did rise.
And with it came luxury she had never seen before. A line of expensive black cars pulled up in front of the building. Out stepped a team of maids and attendants, walking in sync like soldiers. They came armed—with makeup kits, curling irons, boxes of accessories, and a wedding dress in a glass casing like it was a museum piece.
"They're all limited editions," Rose whispered, eyes wide as the boxes were opened.
Yusa didn't care. She stood there numbly, arms at her sides, her soul somewhere else entirely.
"You should be happy we're helping you marry a rich man," Rebecca said with a scoff, brushing imaginary dust off her dress.
By dusk, the wedding had happened. Just like that.
It was short. No music. No emotions. No crowd. Just her family standing stiffly in the living room, Kael in a black tailored suit, and Yusa in a designer gown that didn't feel like hers. Josiah wasn't there. She didn't ask why.
A few words were spoken. A ring slid onto her finger. And just like that, Yusa Whitlock became Yusa Moretti.
She had no belongings to pack. Nothing worth taking. Nothing that would matter where she was going.
Rebecca pulled her into a tight hug that night, her tears sudden and unconvincing.
"Don't mess this up," she whispered into her ear.
And just like that, Yusa was gone. Perhaps peace was nothing more than a vague theory. Yusa had never truly felt it, only hoped for it someday. But on that day, she knew that hope had vanished—lost along with the peace that had never really existed.