Chapter 1 The Agony
“Stand still, Ximena.”
My mother’s voice was low, sharp, and tired, but I ignored it the same way I had learned to ignore nearly everything in my father’s house.The grand pack hall was suffocating, packed with wolves draped in imported silk and heavy-looking jewels. I kept my chin held high and my hands loose at my sides, even as every instinct wired into my bones demanded I run before someone found another convenient excuse to humiliate me.Across the floor, my father laughed alongside a cluster of Castellanos elders, his chest puffed out as though this whole evening belonged to him alone. Crystal chandeliers flooded the room with warm, golden light, reflecting off painted faces and fake smiles. Yet beneath the perfume and expensive wine, the air felt thick and dangerously volatile. It was crowded, overheated, and quiet in the wrong ways, the kind of stillness that made the skin along my spine pull tight.“Don't look away when I'm speaking to you,” my father called out, his voice cutting across the murmur of the crowd.I turned my head slowly. When his eyes locked onto mine, he did not bother hiding the disgust lingering at the corners of his mouth. I had purposely worn a dull dark dress, plain and unadorned. I was not dressed to draw eyes, which meant, in his calculated worldview, I had already failed him.“Come here,” he commanded.I moved toward him because I had no other choice. Defying him openly in front of this many high-ranking wolves would only guarantee that the rest of my night was miserable.Silence fell over the room as I crossed the floor. Dozens of eyes tracked my progress. Some guests looked amused, expecting a show. Others looked bored, while a few younger wolves watched me with a cruel, flicking curiosity.My father reached out to grab a glass of wine from a passing servant. He took an agonizingly slow sip, letting the silence stretch until it felt like a weight pressing down on my chest, before he finally condescended to speak.“You are late,” he said, his voice flat and unforgiving.“I was changing,” I replied, keeping my tone carefully level.The corner of his mouth twitched, though it was far from a smile. “Then you should have changed faster.”A ripple of quiet laughter moved through the wolves standing nearby. They were careful to keep it soft, pretending to focus on their drinks, but the mockery was obvious. I kept my face an unreadable mask and shifted my gaze past him toward the long table where the pack elders sat. I knew every single one of their faces by heart. I also knew that not one of them would raise a finger to intervene if my father decided to turn my tardiness into a public lesson on obedience.Do not react. It was the golden rule that had kept me intact for twenty years. Do not give him the satisfaction.Then it happened.It did not begin as a slow burn. It hit me as a sudden, brutal heat, as if someone had pressed a hot iron directly to my chest.My breath hitched so hard my ribs locked up in instant agony. I stumbled sideways, my fingers scrambling to grip the back of a nearby chair. The room spun, the golden lights blurring into smears of blinding radiance as a second wave of agony struck me, deeper and far more vicious than the first.“No,” I gasped out, though I did not even know what I was trying to reject.Then the light broke through. Gold burned beneath my skin.I doubled over, a choked cry tearing from my throat as fire tore through my blood vessels. One hand flew to my breastbone, trying to smother the heat melting me from the inside out. The hall went dead silent in an instant. A second later, the sharp shatter of glass echoed behind me as someone dropped a goblet, followed by a harsh, whispered curse from somewhere in the crowd.The mark was spreading, a frantic rush of blazing, golden light etching itself permanently beneath my skin. I did not need to see it to know what it was. I felt the sharp, undeniable echo of a soul binding itself to mine across the distance.Bastián Valdemar.The name crashed into my mind with the terrifying weight of a physical blow. My stomach twisted so violently I nearly gagged right there on the floor. I forced my head up through the haze because my body refused to stay folded in half.Golden fire blazed wildly across the left side of my chest, shining with such fierce intensity that even through the thick, dark fabric of my dress, the mark was glaringly visible to every wolf in the room. The shape was sharpening by the second. It was an ancient crest, a sacred bond, and an absolute claim.The room had transformed into a sea of horrified, gaping faces.Suddenly, the room erupted.Voices clashed in a wave of disbelief, anger, and terror. Heavy wooden chairs scraped harshly against the stone floor as elders scrambled to their feet. Someone whispered his name like a terrified prayer. Someone else spoke my name like a death sentence. I could hear every word vibrating through the deafening roar of my own pulse, but it all sounded muffled, distant, and utterly useless against the fire coursing through my veins.“Move,” my father snapped.His order was not directed at me, but at the wolves crowded around us. They obeyed without a second thought, scrambling backward to create a wide circle around me, as if the very air belonged to the Alpha holding the other end of that mark.My knees wobbled, threatening to buckle beneath my weight, and I slammed my palm against the table to keep from collapsing. The pain pulsed in rhythm with my heartbeat, dragging more molten fire through my skin with every agonizing second.No. No, no, no.I knew precisely what this meant. Every single wolf standing in this hall understood it just as clearly. The Bond did not give a damn about family rivalries, ancient politics, or blood feuds. It did not care about generations of spilled blood. It only cared that it had chosen.And out of every female in the territories, it had chosen me. Here. Tonight. In front of the entire gathered elite of the Sangre Antigua.My father stepped toward me.I could not lift my head because my vision was blacking out around the edges, but I could still see the sharp transformation in his face. The initial shock lingered for only a fraction of a second before something far more terrifying replaced it.It was a dark, venomous mixture of interest, hunger, and cold calculation.He stared down at my glowing skin like a man staring at a blade he thought was dull, only to realize it could carve up an empire.Slowly, his hand descended onto my shoulder. His grip was tight, possessive, and cruel, his fingers digging into my collarbone hard enough to leave bruises beneath the glowing skin.He bent down, bringing his mouth close to my ear, his cold breath brushing my hair. When he spoke, his voice was a smooth, deadly whisper, meant for my ears alone.“Finally,” he said, “a use for you.”
