The violin trembled in my grasp, my fingers barely steady enough to press the strings. Each note came out jagged, disjointed—a broken shadow of the melody I'd been trying to play for weeks. I bit my lip as the bow stuttered across the strings, producing a grating screech instead of the haunting tune I'd dreamed of mastering.
Sweat beaded on my forehead. I tried again, ignoring the sharp ache in my hands. My fingers, still weak from months of recovery, refused to obey me. They cramped painfully, forcing me to stop and shake them out. My throat burned with the force of a scream that would never come. It never did.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, willing myself to try one more time—just one clean note. The bow trembled in my hand as my mind echoed with the taunts I'd carried my whole life.
Useless.
Worthless.
She's weak, a burden to the pack.
No matter how hard I tried to block them out, the words clung to me. I was the Alpha's daughter, but my silence—my muteness—made me a shameful mark on his pride. My body was too fragile, my voice nonexistent. I was the disappointment no one wanted to claim.
The bow slipped again. A harsh, discordant sound filled the room, mocking me. My hands dropped to my lap as silent sobs shook my chest. I hated this weakness. Hated how helpless I felt—how small. Music was supposed to be my refuge, my voice when I had none. But even that was slipping away.
My fingers curled around the neck of the violin, my knuckles white. For a moment, I wanted to hurl it across the room, to watch it shatter like the last piece of hope I still held onto. But I couldn't. The violin was all I had left.
"Evelyn?"
I froze at the sound of my mother's voice. Slowly, I lowered the violin and turned. She stood in the doorway—Luna Helena, elegant and composed as ever, though her eyes looked tired.
"Your father is looking for you," she said, her tone carefully neutral.
My stomach dropped. Father. The Alpha. Nothing good ever came from him calling me. My fingers tightened around the bow, as if the thin piece of wood could anchor me to safety.
My mother's gaze softened, but she looked away quickly. "Don't keep him waiting," she murmured, resignation coating her voice.
I shook my head frantically, my hands forming the silent plea I'd used since childhood. Please. Don't make me go.
She sighed and stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "I'm sorry, my dear," she whispered. "You know how he is."
Her apology made my chest tighten. She didn't have to say more. I already knew there was no escaping him. With trembling hands, I placed the violin and bow on the table and forced my legs to move. They felt like stone.
Her hand came to rest gently on my shoulder. "Be strong," she said, though her voice wavered.
I nodded, though I didn't feel strong at all. Taking a deep breath, I stepped past her and into the hallway. Each step toward my father's office felt heavier than the last—like walking to my own execution.
When I reached the heavy oak door, I hesitated. My hand shook as I raised it to knock, but his sharp voice cut through before I could.
"Come in!"
I flinched. Pushing the door open, I kept my head bowed as I entered. He sat behind his massive desk, a mountain of papers before him. He didn't even look up as he gestured for me to stand in front of him.
I obeyed, clasping my hands tightly together to hide their trembling.
"I've made a decision," he said, his tone flat and cold. "You'll be marrying Alpha Garrick of the Ironclaw Pack."
The words slammed into me like a blow. My breath caught, and I shook my head violently, stepping back as panic clawed at my chest. No. No. My mind screamed though no sound came out.
He finally looked up then—his eyes sharp, unyielding. "This is not up for debate."
Tears burned my eyes. I knew that name. Everyone did. Garrick—an older man, cruel and power-hungry. The stories of what he did to his mates, to his pack, were whispered in terrified tones. And now my father wanted to give me to him.
His gaze bored into me. "This alliance is necessary for the pack. You'll do your duty."
I shook my head again, my hands moving in frantic gestures that said what my lips could not. Please. Don't make me do this.
His hand slammed down on the desk with a thunderous crack, making me jump. "Enough!" he roared. "I've tolerated your weakness long enough, Evelyn. It's time you proved your worth."
The words hit me harder than any physical blow could. My knees gave out, and I fell to the floor, tears spilling freely.
He sneered down at me. "Do you think I enjoy this? Do you think I'd waste an alliance on you if there were another choice? You should be grateful I'm giving you any chance to be useful."
My vision blurred. Useful. That was all I was ever supposed to be to him. A tool. A bargaining piece.
I wanted to scream at him—to tell him that I wasn't worthless, that I wasn't just some pawn to be traded away. But the words stayed trapped in my chest, strangled by silence.
"You leave in three days," he said, his voice final. "Prepare yourself."
I didn't move. Didn't even lift my head. He dismissed me with a flick of his hand, as if I were nothing more than a nuisance.
When I stumbled out of the office, my mother was waiting in the hallway. Her face crumpled when she saw me—saw the tears, the shaking. She opened her arms, and I fell into them, burying my face in her shoulder. My body shook with soundless sobs.
"Oh, my sweet girl," she whispered, stroking my hair.
I clung to her, my mind screaming all the words I couldn't say. Why didn't you stop him? Why didn't you fight for me?
But deep down, I already knew. She couldn't. She was as much a prisoner of his will as I was.
So I held on to her instead, to the only warmth left in a world that kept taking everything from me.