Chapter 2

Seren's POV

"MINE."

That voice exploded in my head, making my vision go black.

I don't know when my body started changing.

I only remember the warriors gripping my arms suddenly letting go, stepping back two paces. Someone in the hall screamed, chair legs scraped against marble floor with ear-piercing sounds—then I looked down and saw my hands disappearing.

Not disappearing. Transforming.

The shattering and reconstruction of bones happened simultaneously, the pain unlike any pain, more like something breaking through earth, pushing aside my original form entirely to make way for another, more ancient, more real existence.

I had no time to cry out, no time to think, no time for fear—the next second, I was no longer in human form.

Four paws pressed against the cold marble floor.

The entire hall fell into dead silence.

I raised my head, surveying my surroundings with these new eyes—wider vision, deeper colors, light and scents flooding in together, clear to the point of being almost painful.

I saw people's shock, saw the crowd instinctively retreat to both sides, clearing a wide space—with Caius standing in the center.

I couldn't deny it. It really was him, the mate the Goddess had given me.

That scent, that pull of the bond, was the strongest thing I'd ever felt in my life.

I didn't know what I was doing, only walking, only approaching, only instinctively wanting to close the distance between us.

"Stay back!"

Caius's voice carried Alpha authority, deep and commanding, falling on my wolf like a heavy blow.

I paused momentarily, but didn't stop. My wolf wasn't under my control at all, continuing toward that scent.

"I said stay back!"

He roared, his voice now truly Alpha fury, exploding in the enclosed hall, making the crystals on the chandelier tremble slightly.

Only then did I stop, my wolf instinctively wanting to submit, but something pulled in the opposite direction—the bond, that thread more ancient than any authority, preventing me from truly bowing my head.

Clang!

Several crisp collision sounds. I didn't even have time to look before chains appeared from nowhere, already burning hot as they locked around my limbs.

One hooked my left front leg, another wrapped around my right hind leg, and the longest one, barbed, pressed heavily against the back of my neck, pinning me in place.

I struggled.

The silver chains tightened, barbs piercing through fur and skin, warm blood flowing down my neck and back. I stopped struggling, panting heavily, limbs braced against the ground, unable to move forward even half a step.

The scent of blood filled the hall.

"Run!" someone shouted, and people began covering their mouths in terror, moving toward the doors.

But Caius commanded, "Close the doors!"

The soldiers obeyed without hesitation, immediately shutting the doors. Heavy wooden panels slammed together, bars dropped, locking everyone in the hall. It became so quiet you could almost confirm no one was breathing.

"No one leaves." Caius turned to the crowd, his tone brooking no argument. "You will witness this."

Then he turned back to me. I was held by silver chains, kneeling on the marble floor, covered in blood, unable to move.

"I, Caius Blackstone," his voice rang clear, each word falling like stones, "reject you, Seren Ashwyn, as my mate!"

"Awoooo!"

The moment those words fell, my wolf let out a soundless howl.

It was a tearing sound, spreading from deep in my chest, shattering something to pieces.

I felt my wolf curl up in that moment, like something crushed in someone's fist then violently thrown away, losing direction, losing that thread that had always been pulling it—the silver chains had already embedded in flesh, and now the wolf's collapse layered on top, that double torment making my consciousness begin to peel away and shatter.

My limbs collapsed first, then my spine, then my entire form.

Changing back to human was more painful than shifting.

Bones shattered again, reversed, reconstructed, returning me to that Seren who had been nothing for eighteen years, impure of blood.

The silver chains loosened as my form shrank, but the wounds from the barbs didn't heal. I collapsed on the floor in tattered clothing, torn fabric revealing bruises and bloodstains, hair disheveled and covering half my face.

The hall was very quiet.

I knelt there, waited a few seconds for my breathing to return, for the dizziness to pass. Then I braced my hands against the floor and slowly stood up.

Once steady, I looked down at myself, then raised my head, brushing the hair from my face, and looked directly at Caius.

"Thank you," I said.

Someone in the hall gasped.

"Thank you for your rejection," I continued, my voice flat. "I, Seren Ashwyn, accept your rejection, Caius Blackstone. From this moment forward, we have no connection."

I was almost smiling as I said it. This wasn't defiance—this was genuine gratitude.

Something flickered in Caius's eyes.

It wasn't guilt, nor was it wavering—it was something offended, the feeling when arrogance is casually punctured and deflated.

I knew he could reject me—that was his right. He had expected this to make me collapse, to make me cry, to grovel at his feet and beg him to change his mind in front of everyone. But here I stood, using a simple "thank you" to push his carefully orchestrated public humiliation right back at him.

He couldn't accept this. It was as humiliating as the bride's escape.

But this was what he wanted, wasn't it?

"Lord Caius."

My father Garrick's voice came from beside us. I turned to see him step forward, bowing slightly, his expression respectful and submissive, as if he'd been preparing for a long time, waiting for this moment to speak.

"You should certainly reject her—she's nothing but a mongrel. But from today forward," he said, "as her father, I surrender this sinner to your disposal, without objection."

I turned to look at him in disbelief, but then thought—what was there to disbelieve? This had been my life for eighteen years, hadn't it?

Caius glanced at my father, then looked at me, his lips slowly curving upward.

That smile sent chills down my spine.

He approached and gripped my wrist, the motion seemingly casual but with precise force that made struggling impossible.

He began dragging me toward the exit, his pace unhurried, as if taking a leisurely stroll, as if what he was dragging wasn't a person but some object he'd picked up and wasn't sure whether to keep.

"You'll never escape," he said softly in the corridor. "Never."