Chapter 2 Sent Me To My Death

Makenna's POV:

When I opened my eyes, a rush of panic hit me—I was bound, hands and feet tied tightly with ropes.

What was happening? Who had done this to me?

I thrashed and struggled, desperate to free myself, but then Jessica's smug voice cut through the air like a knife. "Don't waste your energy, Makenna. You're not going anywhere."

I lifted my head, and the truth of my situation hit me hard. I had been dumped at a train station, the low rumble of an approaching train filling the air.

Not far from me, Jessica, Frank, and even my father and stepmother stood like statues, their cold eyes fixed on me.

It all fell into place then—they were sacrificing me to save Jessica.

A wave of anguish swept through me, boiling into a scream. "This isn't right! Let me go! Release me, now!"

Jessica was supposed to go to the palace and become the princes' sex slave, not me! Why was I being forced into this nightmare?

"Makenna, stop acting like a child." Irene Dunn, my stepmother, spoke with that fake, syrupy voice she always used to hide her venom. "The three Lycan princes aren't as bad as the stories make them out to be. You'll have a better life there than you think."

I couldn't stop the bitter laugh that escaped me. "If it's such a blessing, why not send Jessica?"

Irene's mask of gentleness faltered. She glanced toward my father, pleading with her eyes.

He finally spoke, his voice as cold as ice. "Your mother is right. You've always been the reasonable one, Makenna. Jessica's too young to handle palace life. Deep down, you know you're the better choice. Be obedient; we're sending you on the train now."

His words shattered my last hope.

Everyone knew what awaited me in the palace—those three princes were infamous for their cruelty. And yet, my own father was willingly sending me to them.

Jessica's laugh twisted the knife deeper into my soul. "Good luck, Makenna. That wedding you planned won't go to waste after all—Frank and I will be using it."

A wedding…

My insides twisted with a mix of hatred and heartbreak. Frank and I were supposed to get married. How could he betray me like this?

I turned to him, clinging to the foolish hope that he might intervene, that he'd say something to stop this madness. But Frank remained silent, his expression cold and indifferent.

I closed my eyes, letting out a bitter laugh at my own naivety.

How could I still hope for him to save me? How could I have been so blind?

Irene made a slight gesture, and without hesitation, the palace soldiers stepped forward, grabbing me like some helpless rag doll.

The soldiers hauled me onto the train, tying my hands even tighter. There was no escape.

Huddling in a corner of the carriage, I watched as armed soldiers patrolled, their guns slung across their chests. Tears streamed silently down my face, staining my cheeks.

Maybe, when this train reached its destination, I would meet my end.

I lost track of time during the journey, the minutes bleeding into hours. But eventually, we arrived at the palace.

The soldiers shoved me into a grand hall, where women were already gathered. They looked just as terrified as I felt. It was clear—they had all been dragged here against their will, just like me.

Fear clawed at my insides. Was this really my fate? Was I just going to accept it?

No. I wouldn't. I couldn't.

I scanned the room, desperately searching for some way out. But every exit was sealed off, soldiers stationed at every door. I was trapped, and my heart sank deeper into the pit of despair.

"Stand up straight, all of you!" A stern voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

A woman, clad in a stiff uniform, marched in, her eyes sweeping over us like a hawk surveying prey.

"I'm Hayley White, inspector for selecting sex slaves," she announced, her voice sharp and unfeeling. "You are to strip off your clothes immediately. The princes will arrive soon to inspect your bodies and decide which of you will serve them."

My blood ran cold. Strip? Here? In front of everyone?

I clutched the collar of my dress, my fingers trembling. There was no way I was doing that. The other women seemed equally horrified, all of us too shocked to move.

Hayley, unimpressed with our resistance, signaled to the soldiers. Without hesitation, they grabbed one of the women and began tearing her clothes off with ruthless efficiency.

"No! Please stop! Let me go!"

Her screams echoed through the hall, and she thrashed against them, but it was no use. They pinned her to the floor, ripping her dress until she was left naked, shivering in the corner.

The sight of her helplessness made my stomach churn. I instinctively took a step back, fear tightening its grip on my heart.

In their eyes, we were nothing but objects to be used and discarded.

Hayley's voice cracked like a whip. "Hurry up and strip, or do you want to be next?"

The women, who had been hesitating, were now gripped by fear. Their eyes darted to one another, silently pleading for reassurance that none of us could offer. Slowly, sobs broke the silence as they began to undress, their dignity falling away with each piece of clothing.

Watching them, I realized with crushing finality that there was no escape. My pulse hammered in my ears as I closed my eyes, the weight of my reality pressing down like a suffocating blanket. With trembling hands, I began unbuttoning my clothes, whispering a silent prayer.

Please, I didn't want to be chosen!

Soon, we were all stripped bare, standing in a line, silently shedding tears.

Hayley nodded in satisfaction. "That's better. Now wait for the princes to choose you."

Her words sent a jolt of dread through me. I clenched my fists, bile rising in my throat as I imagined being scrutinized like livestock by three men who saw us as nothing more than objects for their pleasure.

Time dragged on, each second ticking away with agonizing slowness, yet the princes didn't appear.

Hayley glanced at her watch, an annoyed frown creasing her face. She turned sharply to a servant, barking an order. "Go and find out what's taking the princes so long."

Soon after leaving, the servant came back, a troubled look on her face. "Miss White, the princes... They're all unwilling to come."

Before the servant could fully explain, a blood-curdling scream erupted from the doorway. I whipped my head around just in time to see one of the soldiers crumple to the floor, kicked aside as if he weighed nothing. Striding into the hall was a man who seemed to carry the weight of death itself on his shoulders.

He was tall, his golden hair catching the light, casting an almost ethereal glow around his otherwise fearsome figure. His face was the kind you couldn't look away from—chiseled, with high cheekbones and brows that looked carved from stone. But it was his eyes, stormy and unforgiving, that held the room hostage. Those piercing blue eyes swept over us like a blade, and every woman instinctively flinched, lowering her gaze in terror.

I was no exception. My heart raced in my chest, my throat tightening as I quickly dropped my eyes to the floor.

Then I heard Hayley greet the man respectfully, her voice sycophantic, "Prince Bryan."

Bryan? Bryan Reeves? Was he the king's oldest son who rumored to be the most ruthless and terrifying prince?