Chapter 3
Ryatt didn’t hesitate—his hand swung toward me with brutal force. The slap cracked through the air, and the momentum sent me sprawling onto the shattered pieces of a glass vase on the floor. Warm blood pooled beneath me, staining the tiles red. My ears rang, drowning out all sound.
He yanked me up by the collar, his Alpha aura radiating fury. “Josephine, get up! Stop pretending!” His voice was sharp, commanding, and laced with disgust. He barked at the nearby Omegas, “Take her outside. If she wants to act like she’s dead, let her kneel in the courtyard until she learns her place.”
Rayne stepped forward, her voice soft but laced with mock concern. “Ryatt, she’s still the daughter of the former Alpha. Don’t be too harsh on her. I can handle whatever she throws at me—I’ll endure it for you.” She cast a sidelong glance at me, her scent—a mix of rosemary and something bitter—filling the air.
Ryatt pulled her into his arms, his voice softening as he spoke to her. “You’re always so understanding, Rayne. Josephine may have been born into a high-ranking family, but she’s nothing compared to you. I only want you.” His words cut deeper than any physical blow.
The sounds of their laughter and whispered affection echoed behind me as I was dragged outside. I knelt in the courtyard, the cold ground biting into my knees, the pain crawling up my legs like a relentless tide. The Omegas nearby exchanged pitying glances, their whispers reaching my ears.
“Poor Josephine. She was once so respected, but without her father’s protection, she’s nothing now.”
“She’s got no mate to stand by her side, no pack to call her own. It’s tragic.”
“Shh! Do you want Ryatt to hear you? He’s not in the mood for sympathy.”
Their words twisted in my mind, stirring memories I’d tried to bury. Four years ago, Ryatt had been a rising star among the younger Alphas, his reputation untarnished. I’d overheard a group of Deltas mocking high-ranking she-wolves, their laughter crude and dismissive.
“Those high-ranking she-wolves are all the same—stiff, boring, like Josephine West. I’d rather have someone like Rayne.”
“They’re only good for one thing, anyway.”
Before my assistant, Lena, could intervene, Ryatt had stepped in, his Alpha tone cutting through their laughter. “Enough. You’re speaking out of line. Every she-wolf deserves respect, regardless of her rank.” His words had struck me then, and I’d foolishly believed he was different. I’d agreed to the mate bond, thinking I’d found someone who saw me for more than my lineage.
But on the night of our marking ceremony, he never came. I’d waited, the scent of lavender and pine—our shared mate bond—fading with every passing hour. I’d sewn his name into the hem of my dress, stitched his words into the fabric of my heart, but he’d never seen it. He’d never cared.
When I woke the next morning, the sunlight streaming through the windows, Ryatt was there, his dark hair tousled, the red mark on his nose standing out against his pale skin. He looked tired, but his eyes lit up when he saw me awake.
“Josephine, you’re up!” His voice was soft, almost tender, but his gaze flickered away, unable to meet mine. It wasn’t until Lena rushed in, her eyes red from crying, that I understood why.
“Josephine,” she whispered, “your face… the burn. It’s not healing properly. You might… you might have a scar.” Her voice trembled, and her anger toward Rayne was palpable.
Ryatt’s tone shifted instantly. “Lena, watch your tongue!” he snapped, his Alpha tone sharp and commanding.
I caught his arm, my voice steady despite the storm inside me. “Leave her alone.” My words were quiet but firm, and for a moment, the room fell silent.
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