The Lycan Prince's Silent Bride

Annalise POV

The carriage wheels screamed against the cobblestones, louder than my voice had ever been. I slowly pressed my hand against the glass, watching the tall black gates of my father's mansion come into view. They hadn't changed in the years since I had last seen them. Still towering, still cold, still promising nothing but walls. For a heartbeat, my chest tightened as if I were that little girl again-mute, unwanted, standing too small in a house too cruel. I was back home. But not really. I hadn't been welcome here since the day my stepmother decided my silence was shame. I'd been taken to a far-off town under the pretense of "study," but we all knew it was banishment. Out of sight. Out of mind. Out of the way of Dahlia's glittering smile. Now, I had been summoned back, pulled into the orbit of a family that had long ago cast me aside. For what? A wedding I wasn't part of. A sister who had always lived the life I could never touch. The gates groaned open, the sound slicing through my thoughts. My heart beat too fast, though no sound left me. It never did. The carriage stopped at the steps of the manor. I climbed down, ignoring the driver's hand. My boots struck stone, the sound too sharp, like a drumbeat heralding my return. The doors opened before I reached them. "Annalise." Her voice, sweet and venomous. Judy stood in the entryway, a gown of gold silk clinging to her like a second skin. Her smile was painted, brittle at the edges. She looked me up and down, a flicker of distaste in her eyes. "So they've dragged you back." Her lips curved higher. "You've grown. Almost lovely, if only you weren't so...silent." Her words stung, though I didn't flinch. I dipped my head, saying nothing. I couldn't. My tongue was a prisoner, my voice long buried. Judy stepped aside, her perfume cloying as I brushed past her. "Don't look at me like that," she murmured, voice a blade. "If it weren't for us, you'd have been left to rot with your mother." My hands tightened at my sides. She knew how to cut deepest. Always. The moment I entered, I felt it. Chaos. Servants rushed through the halls, skirts brushing the marble. Curtains half-drawn, candles flickering too early, whispers darting through corners. The house smelled of roses and polish, but beneath it lay something sour. Panic. I stopped, frowning. My gaze darted to Judy. Her smile wavered. "You're imagining things," she said too quickly. But I wasn't. My silence had always made me listen better than anyone else. And right now, the walls themselves seemed to whisper. My father appeared at the top of the staircase, shoulders slumped, his once-proud frame bent with age. His eyes found me, lingering with something raw-guilt, regret, maybe both. "Annalise," he said, voice rough. "You...you shouldn't be here." The words were a knife. He had called me back. And