The Cursed Lycan's Defiant Hidden Mate

Chynna POV:

I smeared the pungent, crushed herb paste directly over the pulsing artery on the left side of my neck.

The cold, slimy texture made me narrow my eyes against the stinging burn.

The moment the dark green juices soaked through my pores, the violent, scorching surge of my White Wolf blood was forced into submission. It went dead, settling like frozen water deep within my chest.

I looked into the cracked mirror sitting on the wooden vanity. The reflection staring back was pale, fragile, and utterly devoid of life. This was the face of Adah Barlow, a pathetic wolfless bastard daughter mocked by the entire noble court.

Heavy leather boots thudded against the oak planks in the hallway outside. The raw, oppressive weight of a high-ranking Alpha aura pressed through the doorframe, making the glass panes in the window rattle in their iron casings.

The bedroom door was kicked open without warning.

Jedediah Barlow, the Lord of the Barlow lands and my supposed blood father, filled the entrance. His cold, hawk-like gray eyes scanned me from head to toe as if appraising damaged livestock.

"Hurry up," Jedediah barked, his voice laced with the harsh command of a Pack Alpha. "The carriage from Shadow Fortress is already at the outer gate. Do not make me drag you down the stairs."

I set the wooden comb onto the table with slow, deliberate precision. I turned to meet his predatory gaze, letting a thin, mocking smile touch my lips. "Are you afraid I will run, my Lord?"

Jedediah let out a low snort, clasping his calloused hands behind his back. The warning in his eyes was naked and sharp. "Remember your place. Sacrificing yourself to marry the Seventh Prince in your sister's stead is the only useful thing your worthless, wolfless blood will ever provide for this family."

I brushed a speck of nonexistent dust from the cuff of my faded sleeve, my voice entirely flat. "As long as you keep your word and leave my people alone, I will play the part of your sacrificial lamb."

He stared at me for three long seconds, his jaw tightening as if searching for a tremor of fear across my face. Finding none, he spat on the threshold, turned on his heel, and stalked away down the stone corridor.

His heavy footsteps had barely faded when a pair of sharp, mocking laughs cut through the cold morning air.

Alverta Barlow glided into the room, her long gown of deep crimson velvet rustling over the wooden floorboards. Her narrow hazel eyes gleamed with undisguised malice.

Behind her came Aleida, the younger legitimate daughter, casually twirling a riding crop tipped with cruel, silver-barbed wire.

Alverta stopped right in front of me. Her long, manicured nails reached out, dragging across the coarse, unadorned fabric of my bridal gown with sheer disgust. "How pathetic. Look at you, getting ready to be torn to shreds by that crippled monster of a Prince."

I stared straight into her face without giving an inch, my voice dropping to a dead, icy whisper. "You pushed a death sentence of a marriage onto a bastard sister. You should be thanking me on your knees."

The words struck Alverta like an open palm. The sneer on her face twisted instantly into pure rage, and she shrieked, "You wolfless trash! How dare you speak to me like that!"

She whipped her head toward Aleida, her voice turning shrill. "Teach her a lesson before she leaves! Remind this stray of her place!"

Aleida grinned with savage delight. Her arm snapped back, and the silver-barbed whip whistled through the air, aimed straight for my face.

I did not flinch.

A deadly spark ignited in the depths of my amber eyes as my right hand shot forward like striking iron.

Before the silver barbs could slice across my cheek, my fingers clamped down around the thick leather with crushing force.

Aleida's eyes widened in utter shock. She yanked back with both hands, using all her werewolf strength, but the whip remained completely motionless in my grip, as if anchored into solid rock.

"My turn," I whispered.

I twisted my wrist and pulled hard, using her own momentum against her.

Aleida lost her footing completely and flew forward, crashing violently onto the hardwood floor. A sharp crack echoed through the bedroom as her kneecap struck the timber.

She let out a piercing scream of agony, clutching her leg.

Alverta gasped in horror, stumbling backward until her spine hit the stone wall. She pointed a trembling finger at me. "You... you dared to strike back?"

I stepped over Aleida's thrashing body, closing the distance between us. The silver-tipped bone needle hidden beneath my right sleeve caught the dim morning light.

I reached out and locked my fingers around Alverta's slender throat, slamming her hard against the cold stone.

"Speak one more word," I said, leaning in until she could feel the ice in my breath, "and I will tear your tongue out through your neck."

Alverta's face turned mottled red. Her hands clawed uselessly at my forearm, her boots kicking the air as terror completely erased her noble arrogance.

I sneered in disgust and released my grip.

She dropped to the floor like a sack of wet flour, clutching her bruised neck and gasping for air between ragged sobs.

I stepped past them without another glance, walked over to the wardrobe, and pulled out the heavy black woolen cloak.

Swinging the dark fabric over my shoulders, I fastened the clasp at my throat. Leaving the two shivering sisters bleeding on the bedroom floor, I pushed open the door and walked out into the freezing morning mist.

In the center of the muddy courtyard sat a battered black carriage, entirely stripped of any royal crest, waiting like an open wooden coffin.