"Ovelia, haven't you cooked the rice yet?!" My mother's voice thundered through the small kitchen, sharp and impatient.

I am Ovelia Ashford, 20 years old, living in Timberline Village—a place where the air smells of pine and the forest's shadows seem to stretch endlessly. But the beauty of the village never reached me. Not really.

"I haven't, mother. There's no water," I replied, my heart sinking under her scornful gaze. 

I was ten years old when I found out I was adopted. The people I called my parents—the mayor of Timberline Village and his wife—had taken me in not out of love but to serve as a sacrificial pawn. I was to be offered as one of the sacrificial brides to the werewolves, a fate they had spared their biological daughter, Alessia. The realization had shattered me, but over time, I learned to bury the pain deep inside where no one could see it.

"You're so stupid! You know we're about to eat!" my mother snapped, her irritation palpable. Her fingers trembled slightly as they clenched the table's edge, a thin veneer of control slipping away.

Since the day I learned the truth, their cruelty has become a constant in my life. Even Alessia's occasional kindness felt laced with a subtle distance, a carefully constructed facade. Sometimes, her eyes held a fleeting glint of something cold, a shadow that momentarily eclipsed her usual warmth.

"Ovelia, fetch water from the river," my father commanded, tossing a bucket at me with a cruel smirk.

The bruises on my body never faded. If anything, they multiplied each one, which is a testament to the life I was forced to endure.

A tool. A burden. Never a daughter.

I bent down to pick it up, my movements slow and deliberate, as if delaying the inevitable. My fingers brushed against the rough metal handle, and I could feel the weight of his expectations—heavy and unyielding.

"Father, why did you do that?!" Alessia gasped, worry etching her face as she shot him a defiant glare. But even her concern felt…calculated. Too perfect.

I managed a small smile, a silent reassurance. Her eyes softened, but the worry lingered on a carefully maintained performance. She knew the toll this life was taking, yet a part of me wondered if she genuinely cared.

•River•

The river was a ribbon of silver under the moonlight, its gentle ripples reflecting the full moon's glow. I knelt by the water's edge, filling the bucket, my mind wandering to the life I might have had if I'd been born into a family that loved me. The moon hung low in the sky, its light almost unnaturally bright, casting an ethereal glow over the forest.

Suddenly, a rustling in the grass made me freeze. My breath caught in my throat as I turned, my eyes widening in terror. A massive wolf stood before me, its silver fur shimmering in the moonlight. Its piercing eyes locked onto mine, and time seemed to stand still momentarily. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat echoing in my ears like a drum.

Before I could react, the chilling toll of the Timberline bell shattered the silence. The wolf's ears twitched, and with a flick of its tail, it vanished into the shadows, leaving me trembling by the riverbank.

I stood there, my hands clutching the bucket, my mind racing. The bell only tolled when danger loomed, or something significant was about to happen. A cold dread settled in my stomach as I hurried back to the village, the weight of the water dragging me down. I dreaded the thought of being scolded or beaten tonight.

•Timberline Village•

As I approached Timberline Village, I noticed a strange atmosphere. Women dressed in elegant gowns, their hair meticulously styled, but their eyes betrayed their sorrow. Some wept openly, their tears glistening in the moonlight. A shiver ran down my spine, and I quickened my pace, my heart pounding.

I pushed open the door to our house, only to hear my father's harsh voice. "Where have you been?" he shouted, his face red with anger.

I opened my mouth to explain and ask something, but before I could speak, my mother hurled a beautiful red long-sleeve dress at my face. It shimmered in the dim light; it was stunning. I hadn't received anything so lovely in ages, and joy flickered in my heart for a fleeting moment.

"Why did you give me this dress?" I asked my mother, my voice a mix of confusion and excitement.

My parents shot me disdainful glares. The silence was deafening, their refusal to answer clear. I felt a sinking sensation as I walked toward the bathroom to change. Passing Alessia's room, I peeked inside and saw her getting ready. I chose not to disturb her and continued on my way.

Once I was dressed, I approached my parents.

"Finally! Hurry up, the werewolves are waiting outside the village," my father said, his tone serious and insistent.

His words pierced my heart like a dagger. I gasped, the truth crashing down on me—it was the day I was to be sacrificed in marriage to a werewolf. A desperate cry clawed at my throat, a mournful lament for all the dreams I hadn't yet fulfilled. I longed to weep, but I swallowed the tears, knowing my mother's piercing disapproval loomed over me like a storm cloud, ready to strike.

In that moment, fear enveloped me. My heart raced, not just from dread of the werewolves outside but from the realization of my future—a future I had never chosen.

"Get out of here. What are you waiting for!" my mother yelled angrily.

As I was about to leave, Alessia hugged me, whispering, "Thank you, you stupid little sister." The words hung in the air, a chilling confirmation of my suspicions. As she turned to my parents, her smile was a mask of betrayal.

I ran out of the house, tears streaming down my face towards the front of the village. My heart ached. The sister I thought would be my ally, the one I believed loved me, had been nothing but a hypocrite. They hadn't loved me at all; they had used me, treated me like a servant for ten years, fed me scraps, beaten me, and now planned to sacrifice me.

"Starting to despise them?" a haunting voice whispered in my mind. "I can kill them for you. Just release me already."

I didn't know her and where she came from, but her presence felt like a shadow creeping into my thoughts again.

"I hate them," I whispered, my voice trembling as I clutched at my chest, trying to steady my breathing. "But please, don't kill them."

At that moment, the voice within my head stilled, fading into an uneasy silence.

Now that I'm twenty years old, the female voice has begun to hunt me. When I feel sad, angry, or any negative emotion, the voice pops into my head, always asking me to release her, as if she's trapped in my soul and body. I don't know how to release her, and I'm not planning to do it either.

I wiped away my tears as I approached the village exit, desperately hoping that a kind werewolf might choose me to be his bride. I longed for someone who would care for me, someone who could finally erase the pain gnawing at me from the emptiness of my false family.

As I stepped outside the village, the scene before me was both mesmerizing and terrifying. Rows of stunning women stood poised and elegant, their eyes wide with fear as towering men approached them. My breath caught as I realized these were the werewolves—handsome, powerful, and utterly terrifying.

My gaze fell on one man dragging a woman by the arm. She screamed, then plunged a knife into his eye. Everyone gasped, including me, especially when the man transformed, his shirt ripping as he became a werewolf. He grabbed the woman's hand and snapped her bones. A wave of panic washed over the other women, screams tearing from their throats as they fled in terror. Amidst the chaos, the men surrounding them transformed, morphing into ferocious werewolves, their growls blending with the cries of the fleeing women.

Desperate and terrified, the women ran, their footsteps pounding on the ground, frantically trying to escape their pursuit. The werewolves lunged after them, intent on capturing the terrified girls, attempting to hoist them into their carriages amid the madness.

But not all of the werewolves gave in to primal instincts. Some lingered in their human form, projecting an unsettling politeness as they approached the remaining women. Their soft voices were almost soothing amidst the chaos, each word laced with an eerie kindness as they offered a hand to help the women into their carriages.

I didn't know what to do. I wanted to run, scream, and cry, but I couldn't do any of it. I had escaped the cruelty of my fake parents, but could I even survive if I was forced to marry a werewolf?

Ace's POV

The cries and screams of the humans were intoxicating, a haunting melody that echoed through the night. Ordinary humans are so fragile yet so full of life. Luckily, we couldn't have offspring with them; that made things easier. We werewolves could use these women for our pleasure and discard them like trash. It was tragic, really, to witness them become sacrifices, all in the name of peace between our kinds.

"Ace, this sacrifice only happens once every twenty years," my older brother Ray reminded me, his voice a mix of urgency and tradition. "This is your second time. You need to choose your mate and your Luna."

I clenched my jaw, the weight of his words pressing down on me like a stone. I didn't want to be here to find my true mate. I didn't want any part of this archaic ritual. But my father, Alpha King Raymond, had made it clear: as the future Alpha King, I had a duty to uphold. A duty to choose a human mate symbolizes the fragile alliance between our worlds. While other werewolves treated their captives as mere playthings, I couldn't afford to do the same. My reputation, my future, hung in the balance.

As I scanned the crowd of trembling humans, their fear was palpable in the air. Suddenly, a sweet scent wafted through the night air. It was the same fragrance I had caught earlier in the forest—a blend of unique flowers and something divine. My eyes fluttered shut momentarily, allowing the aroma to call me like a siren's song. As I moved forward, I opened my eyes to find a stunning woman wearing a flowing red long-sleeve dress adorned with elaborate gold embroidery. She stood no taller than my shoulder, her long blonde hair cascading down her shoulders like silk, and her red eyes were like sparkling burning jewelry.

I gently grasped her chin, her gaze met mine. Fear danced in her eyes, but I sensed something else beneath the trepidation—a flicker of curiosity. My wolf stirred within me, drawn to her.

"I'll make you my mate," I uttered softly, the words slipping out before I could wrestle them back.

Damn it! What am I saying? I scolded myself, my heart racing. I had resolved to reject my true mate, yet she drew me in like a moth to a flame, her presence igniting something in my human form—a yearning I dared not acknowledge.

Her breath hitched, and I noticed the conflicting emotions etched upon her face—fear tangled with intrigue. At that moment, the weight of my duty clashed violently with my wolf's fierce urge to protect and cherish her in a way I had never anticipated. Yet, in my human form, I struggled to suppress those feelings.

I can't do this, I reminded myself. I already have a werewolf girlfriend.