CHAPTER 4

TIARA'S POV

I was summoned early in the morning. The knock on the door of my small, cold room startled me awake. I wasn’t used to visitors unless it was Nina, and she never knocked. The guard outside didn’t bother to explain, just muttered something about the elders and my father.

Dread settled in my chest as I dressed quickly, pulling on the same tattered gown I had worn the day before at the party. It was the best I had, despite its many stitches. 

It didn’t matter what I looked like; they wouldn’t care. They never did.

When I arrived at the great hall, the atmosphere was heavy. The elders sat in a semicircle, their faces solemn and unreadable. My father stood at the center, tall and imposing, while Victoria and Phoebe flanked him like a queen and her princess. Phoebe’s smile was smug, her dress perfect and dazzling as usual. 

Once again, I found myself doing a mental comparison of the both of us. This was the life we were both supposed to have, but somehow, I felt like a speck of dirt beside her.

At the far end of the room stood Luke. I recognized him immediately. He was the son of Alaric, the wealthiest and most powerful werewolf in the pack. His reputation preceded him—strong, confident, charming. His golden hair sitting on his neck in beautiful curls, and his piercing blue eyes scanned the room before they landed on me.

Something about the way he looked at me made my stomach turn. But he was good looking, and as I stood there, I started to feel a connection with him. 

“Tiara,” my father began, his voice sharp. 

“You’ve been called here for an important matter. Today, the pack elders have deemed it time to officially present you to your mate. He's known for a while now that you're his fated mate, and we've waited for you to come around too…until now.”

My mate? My heart stopped. Was that why I would feel a strong presence when he was around?

Was that why I'd looked at him too often at the party last night even when Phoebe was clearly flirting with him?

I had spent years believing that no one would want me, that no one could ever love someone as cursed as I was. The thought that I might have a mate, someone destined to care for me, sent a small spark of hope through my chest.

I glanced at Luke, who stood tall and proud, his expression unreadable. Could it be true? Was he my mate who'd come to claim me and take me far away from the hell I was living in?

“Step forward,” one of the elders commanded, and I obeyed, my legs trembling beneath me.

Luke stepped forward as well, his movements confident and deliberate. He stood before me, his height towering over mine, and for a moment, I dared to believe that this could be the start of something new. This could be the destination I've always wanted to head. 

This was my freedom. My happiness at last. 

Then Luke spoke.

“Why should I accept her?” he asked suddenly, his voice cold and loud enough to echo through the hall.

The spark in my chest flickered and died.

The elders exchanged glances, but no one intervened. My father remained silent, his face an unreadable mask.

Luke’s piercing gaze swept over me, and his lip curled in disdain. 

“She’s cursed, isn’t she? That mark on her neck—it’s a stain on the pack. Why should I, the son of Alaric, be forced to mate with someone like her?”

The room was silent, save for my own shallow breaths. My hands clenched at my sides, and I felt the familiar sting of humiliation rise in my chest. How had he moved from being expressionless to bursting out angrily the way he was doing now?

“Luke—” one of the elders began, but he held up a hand to silence them.

“No,” he said firmly. 

“I won’t do it. I refuse to claim her.”

The words hit me like a blow, and I staggered back a step, the air rushing from my lungs.

Phoebe’s laughter broke the silence. It was soft at first, then louder, a sound filled with mockery and triumph.

“Well,” she said, stepping forward and wrapping an arm around Luke’s. 

“If you’re looking for someone worthy of you, I think we all know who that is.”

Luke turned to her, his expression softening. “You’re right,” he said. 

“Phoebe, you’re everything I could ever want in a mate. Beautiful, strong, untainted. You deserve this. I'll take you as my arranged mate. Damn the moon goddess and the stupid mate bonds.”

“I do deserve to be your woman, don’t I?” Phoebe said, her voice dripping with satisfaction. 

“I’ve earned it. After all, I’m the true daughter of the alpha.”

Her words were like knives slicing through me, each one sharper than the last.

I looked around the room, searching for someone—anyone—who might defend me. But the elders remained silent, their eyes cast in different directions. My father didn’t move, his face was a mask of indifference. Victoria smirked, clearly pleased by the turn of events.

No one spoke for me. No one cared.

My throat burned with unshed tears as I turned and fled the hall, the sound of Phoebe’s laughter chasing me down the corridor.

By the time I reached the outside, the tears spilled over, blurring my vision as I stumbled towards the woods. That was my one escape. 

I had been foolish to hope. Hoping didn't change my situation. How could I have hoped that Luke would claim me as his mate and that he would be the ticket out of the life I was living?

How stupid had I been to let myself dare expect that someone was coming to my rescue?

“Take it one step at a time. Don't put too much pressure on yourself and you'll be fine.”

I stopped running and turned around abruptly, trying to fi

nd out who had spoken to me. 

“It's Mia, your wolf,” The voice came again.