Avery’s POV

The key turning in my door seemed obscenely loud.

When Zara stepped in, her face bore a haughty and pleased expression. My stomach sank. This wouldn’t be good.

“Lucky you. You get to live a little longer.” She informed me, dumping a pile of clothing onto the bed. “Your marriage has been decided.”

So. They had found some unlucky but obliging wolf to foist me onto.

I tried to stir up an emotion, but all I felt was relief that I wasn’t going to die.

Until she told me who it was.

“You will marry Alpha Gideon.” Zara crowed triumphantly.

A flare of panic raced through me. My fingers trembled where they gripped the blankets.

It can’t be! The man is ruthless! I might as well die anyways!

Zara looked at my pale face and laughed.

“Oh yes, you’re the only woman he would agree to marry.” She stepped to the bed where I sat and pulled me to my feet. “Get up, Bride-to-be! It’s your lucky day!” she sneered.

I clutched at Zara’s arm frantically as she hauled me up.

“Zara, if he discovers that I was marked, he will kill me,” I pleaded.

“Actually, he won’t mark you because he has a marked mate already. Who knows what happened to her! I bet you will enjoy all the drama.” My stepsister laughed in my face, “And if he still finds out you were marked, just kill yourself before he tortures you to death.”

Zara snatched my hairbrush from my dresser and began attacking the knots in my hair. She twisted my hair up into a pile on top of my head and secured it with a clip. Then she held out a formal dress from the pile of clothing she’d brought.

“Get dressed. Your fiancé is waiting, and he doesn’t look like a patient man.”

When she was done preparing me I didn’t recognize the woman staring at me in the mirror. The draped shot silk of the dress clung to my body suggestively and the flashy beading and high neck of the collar sent the whole outfit into “trying too hard” territory.

I had always preferred simple styles that weren’t so flashy. A dress like this was not something I would ever have chosen for myself.

None of this was.

You can feel sorry for yourself later. If you survive.

Zara surveyed her handiwork with satisfaction.

“Well, no one will mistake who you’re intended for.” She smirked, “Let’s go.”

I blinked at the sunshine as we stepped out of the house. Already it felt like ages since I’d felt the sun on my face and the breeze on my skin. I would have rejoiced more in my freedom if it didn’t feel like I was headed to my funeral.

The path to the ceremony hall was lined with members of the pack. They milled about nervously, anticipation thick in the air. I saw Lillian, a friend of mine, staring at me worriedly.

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