Seraphina's POV
I woke up slowly, my mind foggy and disoriented. I sat up, blinking against the morning light streaming through the unfamiliar curtains, and looked around the room.
He wasn't there. Thinking about last night, on how he ruined my escape plan, handcuffed me, and forced me to sleep in his bed, anger flashed through my eyes.
But along with anger came the horrifying realization that I had slept well. Like, really well.
I looked down at my wrists and saw the handcuffs gone. "Crazy man," I muttered under my breath, throwing away the blanket and swinging my legs over the side of the bed.
Just then, there was a soft knock on the door. I froze, staring at the door. Knock? As in a polite entry request? I wasn't used to my doors being knocked. Usually, they just slammed open. This was a new experience.
"Come in," I said, my voice hoarse from sleep.
The door opened slowly, and to my absolute bewilderment, Riley walked in. But she wasn't alone—two other pack women followed behind her, carrying what looked like various items I couldn't quite make out from where I sat.
My eyebrows shot up so high they probably disappeared into my hairline. Riley had knocked? The same woman who usually barged in like the universe owed her a standing ovation had actually knocked?
Either I was still dreaming, or the apocalypse started while I was asleep. Honestly, I'd bet on both.
Or maybe it was because this was his room. I didn't know and honestly, I didn't particularly care at the moment.
I watched in silence as the women walked into the room and began placing their mysterious items around the space. Meanwhile, Riley approached the bed with a tray in her hands, setting it down beside me with surprising care.
"Freshen up and have breakfast," she said, her voice as cold as ever, but something was different. The usual sarcasm and dagger-sharp glare were absent.
I stared at her, my brain struggling to process what I was seeing. Riley was serving me breakfast? The same woman who had spent years ordering me around like I was her personal servant?
Wait. No. This was suspicious. I knew this woman's soul—if she were suddenly being nice, it meant she'd either been replaced by a shapeshifter or was trying to lure me into a trap.
Before I could stop myself, the words tumbled out. "Are you sick?"
Her eyes flashed dangerously, the sneer sliding into place. "Bitch, it's all your—" She cut herself off mid-sentence, glancing toward the door. Then she changed her tone like someone had threatened her life. "We don't have much time. Be quick!"
And before I could even process, she grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the washroom—gently.
Hold up. Hold the hell up. Riley was being gentle with me? Riley, who usually handled me like I was radioactive waste that might contaminate her perfect existence? What kind of parallel universe did I wake up in?
The look in her eyes was almost fearful, like she was scared to be harsh with me. It was completely unprecedented, and frankly, more terrifying than her usual cruelty.
At least with Mean Riley, I knew the rules. This new, careful version of her left me completely off-balance.
Under her watchful gaze, I brushed my teeth and returned to sit on the bed, eyeing the breakfast tray warily. Pancakes, bacon, and eggs—all perfectly prepared and still warm.
It looked delicious, which immediately made me suspicious. "Did you mix poison in this?" I asked, picking up the fork but not taking a bite.
"I wish I could…" she muttered, but again she stopped and changed it. "Stop talking!"
"Why are you acting so strange?"
"Eat!" she commanded, but even her commanding tone lacked its usual venom.
Left with no choice under her laser stare, I ate. The food was actually good—better than good, which only added to my growing confusion. While I ate, the other women kept bustling around. I still couldn't tell what they were setting up, but I had a bad feeling.
As soon as I finished the last bite, Riley took the plates and turned toward the door. Before leaving, she glanced at the women. "Get her ready," she ordered.
The women nodded obediently. I stood up quickly, my heart already beginning to race with apprehension. "Get me ready? Ready for what?"
But they ignored me like always.
"What's going on?" I asked again, "What am I supposed to be getting ready for?"
They remained silent, just continuing with whatever they were doing. That's when my eyes finally focused on what they were arranging. Immedietely, my face paled and my blood ran cold.
There, hanging carefully from a portable garment rack, was something that made every alarm bell in my head start screaming at once.
It was a dress.
And, not just any dress—a wedding dress.
A beautiful, elaborate, undeniably expensive wedding dress in the most striking shade of crimson red I'd ever seen. Even from across the room, I could see the shimmer of gold thread in the patterns and delicate vine embroidery at the bottom.
My brain short-circuited.
"No..." I gasped out loud. "Not happening...."
This was no dream come true, no romantic gesture, no warm, bubbly feeling in the stomach. This was a crime scene waiting to happen...
Goosebumps erupted along my arms. And my lungs forgot to work. That arrogant, infuriating alpha hadn't been kidding when he'd mentioned marrying me.
This wasn't some twisted joke or empty threat meant to terrify me into submission. I quickly took several steps backward, as if the dress itself might attack me.
"I-I... I am not getting married," I stammered, my voice rising with panic. "There is absolutely no way in hell I'm putting on that dress!"
The two women ignored me. One of them reached for the hanger. The other took a careful step toward me, hands out like she was approaching a cornered animal.
And, I was that animal.
Which, to be fair, in this pack, I was. But if they got too close, I was fully prepared to bite.