A Girl in The Red Dress

As Lowell entered the room, Willow couldn't help but fidget nervously. His piercing yellow eyes sent a wave of unease through her, making her stomach churn. What could he possibly want this time? Despite his attempt to reassure her not to be afraid, it only heightened her apprehension. Trust was out of the question, especially when she was already aware of the terrible things he was capable of. The mere thought of spending the rest of her life with him filled her with terror.

Closing the door behind him, Lowell spoke, "There's something important that we need to discuss." The room, devoid of windows, allowed only faint beams of light to seep through the cracks and gaps in the old, worn-out wooden boards comprising its four walls.

Willow responded with an ironic smile. "What else is there to talk about? It's quite obvious that my voice holds no weight."

"In tonight's gathering, I intend to officially declare you as my mate," he stated almost dismissively, treating it as a trivial matter. This did nothing to reassure Willow that she would be treated with kindness and respect.

Turning her head away, Willow softly uttered, "I suppose I have no choice but to accept, do I?"

"When you asked me to forgive Luke, you had already made up your mind, so I hope you won't do anything foolish," she stated firmly, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall. "Just play your role, follow orders, and everyone will be content."

"Everyone?" Willow disagreed, shaking her head. "Certainly not me."

A mischievous grin spread across Lowell's face. "I understand that it's not what you desired, but it's your destiny to step into your father's shoes and become the alpha of the pack."

Willow now saw through the deception. "So, what you really want is to emulate my father. You're merely using me as a means to that end."

A soft chuckle escaped Lowell's lips. "Once again, I'm impressed by your astuteness. I must admit, I had my doubts about you initially, being a half-breed raised by humans with no knowledge of werewolves. You truly are remarkable."

"Well, I suppose I should take that as a compliment," Willow replied with a hint of irony in her voice.

"Yes, you should appreciate it. And do you realize how privileged you are to be the alpha's mate, among all the mongrels?" Lowell remarked.

"I suppose you're going to enlighten me without my needing to ask," Willow replied sarcastically.

He nodded. "Indeed. You'll be the first, and that's quite a distinction."

Willow remained silent, her lips pursed. She had no interest in Lowell or his pack. The only werewolf who mattered to her was Luke. She longed to be by his side, continuing their journey to find her father. However, that was an impossible wish. All she could find solace in was the knowledge that Luke was alive, and she hoped her sacrifice would keep him that way.

As Lowell began to move toward the door, Willow felt a sense of relief, no longer having to look at him. Yet, he abruptly stopped, as if he could discern her thoughts. He glanced over his shoulder. "I'll have the food brought to you shortly. The ceremony will commence when the moon reaches its highest point. Fenella will come for you before then to ensure you are prepared."

Without uttering another word, he opened the door, exited the room, and closed it behind him, leaving Willow once again in solitude. But solitude was far preferable to the presence of Lowell or his monstrous pack of werewolves.

A couple of hours later, Fenella arrived and escorted Willow to the river. She instructed her to wash up in the chilly water.

"Make it quick. Do you want to freeze your body?" Fenella impatiently stood on the riverbank, tapping her foot. A worn-out towel was tucked under her right arm. Willow wasn't pleased with the situation either, but she held her tongue, recognizing that it wasn't the moment to argue with Fenella.

Standing in the shallow water of the river, Willow found herself naked and shivering under the moonlight. It seemed to be a tradition for females to bathe in the moonlight before the mating ceremony, a practice Willow found absurd and unfair, especially when Lowell was exempted from such requirements.

Hurriedly, Willow stepped out of the water and took the towel from Fenella, wrapping it tightly around her body as if her life depended on it. She couldn't recall ever feeling so cold in her entire life. "Th-this is r-ridiculous," Willow seethed, her teeth chattering uncontrollably.

"Just be quiet and follow me," Fenella ordered, leading the way from the water's edge toward a small dilapidated cabin not far away.

Eager to get indoors, Willow wasted no time in following Fenella. Her bare feet hurried across the soft ground. She yearned to dry off and get dressed as soon as possible. Once inside the cabin, Fenella closed the door behind them. She remained highly irritable, just as she had been since their first encounter, and Willow got the sense that the werewolf harbored a strong dislike for her.

Willow wondered why Fenella displayed such obvious hostility.

"Dry yourself off, and I'll find something for you to wear," Fenella said, walking over to a corner of the cabin where a duffel bag lay on the floor. She knelt down and unzipped it, rummaging inside.

"You don't really care for me, do you?" Willow mustered the courage to ask.

"Do you really need an answer?" Fenella growled, tossing a few dresses from the bag.

Willow sat on the bed. "Would you mind telling me why?"

Fenella halted her search and stared at Willow with intensity. "Do you know what's going to happen?"

Willow hesitated, unsure of how to respond. She thought she knew, but now doubts clouded her mind.

"No, huh?" Fenella shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Of course not. How could you? Look, you're just a pawn in someone else's scheme."

"You mean in Lowell's scheme?" Willow questioned.

"Ever since you were swinging on that swing with that cute little bow in your hair, Lowell has been waiting for this. He witnessed your father's feeble leadership crumble, but the others were too blind to see it. When your father vanished, Lowell saw an opportunity, and that opportunity was you," Fenella explained.

"You're making it sound like I lucked out or something," Willow responded.

"You are lucky," Fenella snapped. "You have no idea what I would give to be..." Her voice choked up, trailing off.

Understanding finally dawned upon Willow, unraveling the cause of Fenella's animosity. "You wish you were in my position," Willow stated. "You wish you were the one Lowell desired." A tinge of sympathy for herself arose within her.

"Don't speak of things you can't possibly comprehend," Fenella retorted.

"Why not? What difference does it make? Just admit that you want to be Lowell's partner. That's why you hate me, and that's why you trail after him like a loyal puppy."

Hardly had Willow finished uttering those words when Fenella approached her and raised her hand. Willow closed her eyes, bracing herself for a slap that never came. Opening her eyes again, she saw Fenella standing nearby, staring at her with disdain, but her hand had dropped.

"Don't you dare mock me," Fenella hissed.

"I'm not mocking you," Willow clarified. "I'm trying to make you understand. I would trade places with you right now if I could. I don't want this. I despise Lowell. So don't tell me I lucked out, and don't tell me I don't comprehend what you're going through. You may hate me, but you should at least empathize with my perspective."

Whether it was wishful thinking or genuine, Willow detected a flicker of sympathy in Fenella's eyes, but it swiftly faded. Fenella turned around and reopened the duffel bag, rummaging through its contents before finally retrieving an elegant sleeveless red dress. She tossed it to Willow.

"Put this on," she growled. "And make sure you take good care of it. It's one of my favorite dresses."

Willow barely spared a glance at the dress. It held no significance for her. It only served as a reminder of the thousands of dollars she had squandered on countless dresses that had never brought her an ounce of happiness. She had wasted so much time on possessions and shallow relationships, and the mere thought of it sickened her because she now knew better.

Luke had awakened Willow to the realization that everything she once deemed important was merely a hollow imitation of her true desires. If only she had understood this before losing everything that held meaning for her. If only she could turn back time.

In that moment, Willow spotted Fenella on her way out. "Wait," Willow called after her. "You don't have to do this. She's just using both of us. What makes you think he'll keep you after tonight?"

Willow had no clue what Lowell was capable of, but perhaps she could sow a seed of doubt in Fenella's mind. For a brief moment, she entertained the hope that it might work. However, Fenella swiftly responded, crushing her hopes.

"Do you think I'm blind to your intentions? Save your breath," Fenella retorted. "Though I despise the fact that Lowell regards you as his partner instead of me, my loyalty to him remains unwavering. Now, get dressed and join us. Everyone is waiting for you."

Willow's hopes were shattered as she watched Fenella make her way to the door.

Fenella opened the door but paused in the doorway, glancing back at Willow. "You're fortunate that Lowell needs you alive. Otherwise, I would have ripped your heart out and devoured it by now," she sneered, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "There's nothing sweeter than the taste of a warm human heart."

Willow swallowed hard, knowing it was not an empty threat. Fenella meant every word.

With that, the werewolf departed, leaving Willow alone as she had feared. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Countless tears had been shed since she became Lowell's captive. That's precisely what she was—a prisoner. No matter what Lowell tried to make her believe, Willow was in captivity, and it seemed unlikely to change.

She wasn't certain what kind of life awaited her as Lowell's mate, but she was certain that genuine love would never be a part of it.

Her father and Luke—those were the only two individuals who might genuinely care about her. Like a cruel jest, Willow's true desires were fleetingly teased before being swiftly snatched away. Wiping away her tears, Willow set aside her self-pity. No one else would feel sorry for her. She picked up the dress from the bed, holding it with a tinge of sadness.

Ironically, in the past, she would have adored a dress like this. Yet, wearing it now only symbolized her surrendering her freedom and future to Lowell. She had no desire to don it, no more than a slave would want to wear shackles. However, with no past to retreat to, she had no choice but to accept an undesirable future. Enveloping herself in the red dress, Willow pulled her hair back and adjusted the ties.

Taking several deep breaths, although they provided little solace, Willow began to approach the door, intending to inform Fenella that she was ready. Yet, after merely two steps, the door swung open from outside. Willow froze in place, her heart skipping a beat.

"Luke?" she gasped.

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