3 Worse than Death

When Roselia gained consciousness, she found herself scrubbed clean. Roselia woke up to pokes and jabs on her face. She tried shoving the hands away, but found her arms bound together by thick white ribbons. 

"She's awake!" one of the fussy women surrounding her hissed.

Through the vanity mirror, Roselia saw the state she was in. She was in a seated position, her hair wrapped into an elegant bun and she wore a hideous wedding dress. From the window, she saw it was midnight where the stars flickered and the clouds were clear, revealing a full moon.

Werewolves were traditional by nature. Legends believed wedding under a full moon would forever tie the souls of the husband and bride, even if they were not mates. Soulmates were rare in this vast world and to find each other was a miracle.

Rumor has it, the Moon Goddess would bless the midnight wedding, and grant the couple eternal bliss and happiness. Some even believed they could be mates in the next life if they wedded under such a sacred time.

Roselia was screwed. 

"Don't touch me," Roselia protested, but they ignored her. She quickly took in her surroundings. 

Armed guards lined the walls, their necks imprinted with "KER" in glaring bold text. Property of Pack Kerpan. It was customary for werewolves in a pack to have their pack names branded or tattooed onto their bodies. 

Modern-day cities could have people from all walks of life. Werewolves. Vampires. Humans. Eventually, there needed to be an establishment of order between the werewolves from different packs living in cities within societies. 

"Now, the last thing we have to do is take off that hideous paper clip necklace from her—"

The maids reached for her neck, but Roselia angrily wrenched away from them. She tried to stand, but found her legs bounded. 

"Ah, forget it!" the same woman growled. "We'll just blame the girls who cleaned her for not taking this necklace off." 

"Well, the necklace touches the mark… we can't touch it without our skin burning," her peer responded. "The mark is powerful and protective because of the strong wolf that did it."

Roselia tried to not look, but she did. Despite not being mates, Alpha Kerpan's son still marked her. The scar was ugly, but healed. The mark was a crescent moon wrapped around a single letter "K" for Kerpan.

Alpha Kerpan's son was the sweetest boy that Roselia knew. He didn't deserve what happened to him. She could live a thousand lifetimes and never deserve him. 

'He's gone,' Roselia reminded herself. Her heart had already forgotten him.

Roselia had moved on. She was no longer in love with him, but that didn't stop the guilt from eating her alive. Because of her, Alpha Kerpan was heirless. She took his only child from him, and now, he wanted revenge. An eye for an eye. A daughter for a son. 

"It's time," the maid said.

The servant bent down and slightly loosened the ribbons binding Roselia's legs. Roselia was surprised Alpha Kerpan didn't chop her feet off to prevent her from running. That is until she noticed her heels.

"These shoes are made of thin glass," the servant smirked. "These heels can withstand walking."

Roselia narrowed her eyes.

"If you try to run, the harsh impact will shatter the glass into hundreds of pieces that will dig into your feet. You won't bleed to death, but you may never walk again."

Roselia nearly laughed at Alpha Kerpan's paranoia. Where would she run to? Alpha Kerpan would always catch her. 

"Hurry up and stand!" the maid demanded impatiently. "It took us an entire week to make you presentable for Alpha Kerpan. You're wasting our hard work."

'It's been seven days?!' Roselia concluded Alpha Kerpan continuously drugged her, so she'd remain asleep until this moment. 

"Don't try to scream to fight," the same maid warned her. "No one will help you. All of the guests in attendance are allied with Alpha Kerpan."

Roselia snorted. There goes her plan of screaming bloody murder.

"Guards! Escort her to the wedding reception, she's ready."

Armed men in suits came forward, stone-faced and serious, but their eyes said otherwise. They hauled her out of the room, their eyes laser-focused. 

Suddenly, Roselia saw him. She nearly cried. Her protector. Her Papa. 

"Papa…" Roselia cried out. 

"It's Alpha Cecil Fiore to you," Cecil deadpanned. 

Roselia's relief was short-lived. Her Papa had aged considerably since she last saw him. How long ago was that? She couldn't remember how long she was imprisoned for. His salt and pepper hair was dyed black as night to hide his age, but there were more lines on his face than she last remembered. 

"Papa, please forgive me," Roselia pleaded anyway, reaching to grab him, but he turned his body. 

"I have no daughter," Cecil growled. His voice was as cold as his frigid glare. 

Roselia knew begging was useless. She had gotten on her knees and clawed at him for mercy, but he turned a blind eye to her. Afterall, what was a daughter whe compared to a son? 

"I am not here to save you," Cecil warned. "I am here to walk you down the aisle, give you away, and finally rid myself of you."

Roselia should've known.

"Now, cease your crying and straighten up," Cecil demanded, his expression aloof and unforgiving. "Your groom is waiting for you." 

Roselia struggled to wipe her tears. Her arms were tied together like a cruel present to be torn open.

"How does he expect me to give you away if you can't even hold my elbow?"

Cecil muttered whilst undoing the knots near her wrist. He watched as the ribbons cascaded to the ground, fallen and discarded, much like her. 

Roselia's bottom lips trembled, unable to hold back a quiet sob. Cecil exhaled, his eyes twitching with irritation.

Abruptly, Cecil unwrapped a familiar strawberry candy and roughly shoved it into her mouth. 

Roselia was surprised beyond words. He dealt with her tears the same way he used to when she was a little girl. She wondered if the candy was expired, for it tasted bitter like poison on her tongue.

Cecil offered his arm in her direction. "Hurry up and take it, Roselia. We do not have all day to walk you down the aisle." 

His words stabbed her in the heart. Her Papa rarely called her by her full name. No one in her family did. It was always Lia or Rosie. Never Roselia. 

Even when Roselia was a little girl that'd yank at his wolf's fur, her Papa would still call her Rosie. Even when her wolf never came when she was sixteen, her Papa would call her Rosie. From the days leading up to her sentencing at eighteen, her name was still Rosie.

"Roselia." Cecil spat her name out like an insult. 

Roselia slipped her palm through his elbow. The man walking her down the aisle was her father, but not her Papa. 

"Open the door," Cecil commanded, and the guards obeyed. No one dared to go against an Alpha like him.

Roselia couldn't even brace herself. Nothing would prepare a girl to marry a man twice her age.

The wedding reception room was enormous. Tables upon tables of werewolves were present, all highly ranked in society with respectable titles and households. 

When the doors opened, the music started to play, nad the conversation instantly died. 

"You would've been a beautiful bride, Roselia," Cecil muttered to her, his eyes set forward, his strides slow, and his face expressionless. 

Roselia laid eyes on Alpha Kerpan, who was at the end of the altar. She took the smallest steps, for it was almost impossible to walk with the chains on her feet. Her dress was long enough to hide the confinement, but she bet everyone knew.

"This was not the future your brother and I wanted for you," Cecil continued. "If your mother was alive, she'd cry herself to death."

Roselia gritted her teeth at the mention of her older brother, who was seated at the front. She'd recognize his dark hair anywhere. 

"Roselia," Cecil bit out. "You damned us all in a single day and ruined the entire Fiore Pack's reputation. You've left us with no choice."

Roselia stared at the priest. His holy book trembled in his hands. Everyone was watching her. Some whispered. Some laughed. They all mocked how high Pack Fiore had fallen because of her. One of the largest and oldest packs in the world was doomed by a single woman—the Alpha's daughter.

"If given the chance," Roselia muttered to her father, laying eyes upon him for the final time. "I'd do it again."

Cecil's face grew red with rage, but he was too late. They've reached the altar. 

"Thank you, Alpha Fiore," Alpha Kerpan sneered, yanking Roselia to his side, and scowling at her bare arms. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, Lunas and Alphas," the priest began, his voice shaking towards the end. "We are gathered here today…"

Roselia drowned out the ceremony. She chewed on the hard candy, shattering it to pieces in her mouth that she crushed to powder as a distraction. Her ears began to ring, and her eyes started watering. 

In the background, Roselia could hear Alpha Kerpan's stupid vows. Something about to love and cherish in sickness and death. Yeah right.

"Well said, Alpha Kerpan," the priest complimented, not bothering to wait for Roselia's bows. "It is important to affirm that this union is entered into freely and with full sincerity."

The priest paused. Roselia almost laughed.

"If there is any guest present who has a reason to believe that this couple should not be joined in marriage," the priest glanced around.

Alpha Kerpan snorted as if that was even possible.

"Speak now, or forever hold your peace."

There was a brief pause.

This was it. A life worse than death. 

Roselia bowed her head in defeat. Until, sharp gasps erupted around her and whispers filled the air. Growls pierced the silence and the room was plunged into chaos.

"I object."