Chapter Four

Abigail’s POV

For a heartbeat, I forgot how to breathe.

The word hung in the air between us — Strip — cold and sharp as a blade, slicing through the silence of the chamber. It didn’t sound like a command. It sounded like a verdict.

Every instinct screamed at me to move, but not toward him. Away. As far as I could get from the man whose shadow seemed to fill the entire room.

The Lycan’s gaze was unblinking, unreadable, yet heavy enough to pin me in place. He was taller than any man I’d ever seen, broad-shouldered, his presence overwhelming. Even the air seemed to bend toward him, thick with an aura that pressed down on my lungs until each breath scraped raw. The faint scent of pine and iron clung to him, sharp and clean but edged with something metallic — blood.

When I didn’t obey immediately, he tilted his head slightly, a slow, deliberate motion that made my stomach twist. “You heard me.”

My lips parted, but no sound came out at first. My throat felt dry, parched. I forced myself to speak anyway, clinging to the last thread of dignity I had left. “I’m not—” My voice cracked, but I swallowed hard, steadying it. “I’m not some object you can order around.”

Something flickered in his eyes. Not anger. Amusement. The cruelest kind.

He stepped forward, and the floor seemed to shift beneath me, the distance between us shrinking too quickly. “You’re exactly what I paid for,” he said softly, his voice a low rumble that curled in my stomach like smoke. “A body meant to give me an heir. Everything else is irrelevant.”

My nails dug into the thin silk of my gown until I felt the fabric strain. My pride burned hotter than my fear. “If you think I’ll just—”

In a blur, he was in front of me. Faster than sight, faster than thought. His arm braced against the wall beside my head, caging me in. His other hand lifted my chin, forcing my eyes to meet his. His skin radiated heat, a wild warmth at odds with the glacial steel of his tone.

“You’ll do exactly what I tell you,” he said, each word deliberate, dangerous. “Or I’ll find a use for you that’s… less pleasant.”

The threat slid down my spine like ice water, and I shivered before I could stop myself. But beneath the fear, fury flared. I wanted to slap his hand away, spit in his face, scream until the walls cracked. But the glint in his eyes warned me that any defiance now wouldn’t just be punished — it would be crushed.

And so I froze.

He released me abruptly, stepping back with the same indifference one might show to a broken toy. He turned away, his back broad and unguarded as he walked toward the bed. “Strip,” he repeated, his voice flat, as if he’d already dismissed me in his mind.

The casual dismissal stung almost more than his threat.

I stood rooted to the spot, my body trembling with the war raging inside me. My breath came shallow, too fast, my heart hammering so loudly I could hear it in my ears. If I defied him now, I didn’t know what he’d do. If I obeyed… I might lose the last piece of myself I had left.

The choice was a knife at my throat.

I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to steady the panic clawing at me. Images flashed behind my eyelids — my father’s cold stare as he signed me away, Jessica’s satisfied smirk, the clink of silver coins filling the coffers that had replaced me. My pack hadn’t just abandoned me. They had traded me. Bartered me like cattle.

And here I was, reduced to nothing but a vessel.

I clenched my fists. Was that all I would ever be? A pawn? A transaction? A womb dressed in silk?

The thought sickened me. But the Lycan’s aura pressed down on me like chains, smothering every breath, every spark of defiance. I could feel his strength even with his back turned, radiating from him like heat from a bonfire. He was dangerous, yes — but more than that, he was absolute. This was a man who had never heard the word no and had no concept of being denied.

And yet, the ember of rage inside me refused to die.

I opened my eyes and stared at his back. His skin was marked with scars, faint lines across muscle and sinew. Proof that he bled. Proof that he could be hurt.

For now, survival meant bending — but bending wasn’t the same as breaking.

My fingers trembled as I brushed the edge of the nightgown. I hated myself for even hesitating, hated the weakness that surged in my chest. Tears threatened to rise, but I forced them down, swallowing the sob that clawed at my throat. He wouldn’t see me cry. Not him. Not now.

Slowly, deliberately, I let the silk slip from one shoulder, then the other. The fabric slid down my arms, whispering against my skin before pooling around my feet. The air in the room was cold, raising goosebumps across my body, but it wasn’t the chill that made me shiver. It was him. Always him.

The Lycan turned then, his gaze sweeping over me with the intensity of a predator sizing up prey. His eyes were dark, bottomless blue, and the weight of them stripped me far more than the gown ever could.

He didn’t smile. He didn’t leer. He simply looked, as if committing me to memory, as if cataloging every inch of me for ownership.

I wanted to cover myself, to shield my body with my hands, but I refused to give him that satisfaction. I lifted my chin instead, meeting his stare head-on even as my body quaked with fear.

If he was going to devour me, he’d see that I didn’t break first.

For a long, terrible moment, neither of us moved. The silence stretched, thick and unbearable, until finally, his lips parted.

“Good,” he murmured. “You learn quickly.”

The words were a blade, sharp and final, carving away the last illusion of choice I had.

Inside, I whispered a vow to myself.

They thought I was theirs to use, to discard. But I would not be forgotten. I would not vanish into silk sheets and whispered commands.

One day, I would make them all regret underestimating me — the council, my father, Jessica, and even him.

But tonight, survival meant swallowing my pride. Tonight, I played the part they forced on me.

For now.