Isabella
I didn't speak. Maria was baiting me, and I knew it. Here, in this place, I had no voice. If I dared express any opinion, it would invite my father's wrath. I kept my gaze fixed on the floor, shifting my weight slightly to ease the numbness in my legs from kneeling for so long.
"Well, I'm sure Isabella would agree with me, honey," Maria cooed, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "She must be overwhelmed by the great news Derek shared with us."
I wanted to gag. The repulsive sensation twisted in my gut as I forced myself not to look at her hand, stroking my father's arm with practiced affection. It was suffocating. I clenched my fists so tightly that my nails bit into my palms, my body trembling with a silent rage. She could think of her own daughter, indulging in fantasies of her fated mate, while I was being sold off to an enemy pack? I had no voice in this. No choice.
I couldn't show weakness. Not now.
"It's fine, Maria," my father's voice interrupted, cold and detached. "The small celebration is not just for Isabella; it's for our pack, a way to show our power in this arrangement. We don't want the neighboring packs to think I've gone soft, or that my daughter isn't
loved. Not when we're sending her off."
I closed my eyes, not in relief but in resignation. This was never about me. It never had been. I was just a piece in their twisted game, a tool to strengthen their alliances, to fulfill some political need. The sickening reality set in with brutal clarity.
Maria's smile faltered slightly, but she quickly recovered. "Of course, darling. You're right." Our eyes met, and before I could glance down as I always did, she lowered her voice and spoke. "Isabella, honey, you look upset. Please don't be. Your father has done his best for the pack, so this marriage is just a little sacrifice for your pack and family."
I couldn't directly refute her words, but as soon as my father turned away, I glared at her. Her smug smile said everything her sugarcoated words didn't. And as for this "little sacrifice," she should let her daughter do it, then.
"Mother is right," Sofia piped in, talking to her mother. "Oh, and I've always wanted a tailor-made dress from the south. I heard their silk materials are exquisite, so soft it feels like a gentle breeze against your skin. Does this mean I'll get one?"
Her mother smiled lightly and responded, "It will be all thanks to Isabella. Make sure you express your gratitude, okay?"
Sofia gave a fake smile and nodded. "Thank you for this, Isabella." They acted as though I had willingly agreed to the whole situation, and honestly, I couldn't blame them. Their smugness came from the simple fact that I stood no chance against my father. His word was law.
Derek, as always, addressed me with a formality that made my skin crawl. "Do you have any objections, princess?"
I clenched my jaw, fighting the bile rising in my throat. "Anything the alpha decides is in my best interest," I said, the words automatic, rehearsed. I had learned them long ago, drilled into me with every punishment, every lesson in submission.
I felt the brief flicker of approval in my father's eyes, a satisfaction that made my skin crawl. The pack members erupted into cheers, their voices a cacophony of excitement. For them, this was just another event. Another opportunity to display their power. They didn't care about me. They never had.
I knelt there, trembling—not from weakness, but from the suffocating weight of everything this meant. My breath came in shallow gasps, my heart pounding, but I kept my gaze lowered. My only hope, the one thing that had kept me alive all these years, was the belief that one day I would meet my fated mate—someone who could take me away from this hell. But that hope was slipping away, like sand through my fingers.
My father had made his decision. I was nothing but a pawn to him, and no matter how much I hated him for it, I was powerless. There was nothing I could do.
I was a dog without its canines. A gun without bullets. A girl filled with burning hatred for her father, but with no ammunition to act on it. No way to fight back.