{Third Person}
Six Months Later—Human Clan.
Tonight was supposed to be one of the most important moments of Amara Caldwell's life.
However, she had never expected such a wondrous moment to turn into a nightmare.
The hall was already filled by the time she arrived.
Everything about the evening felt carefully arranged—refined and undeniably grand. Too grand, perhaps, for what Amara believed was meant to be a simple engagement gathering.
However, her father had turned a simple dinner into a surprise party, inviting many members of the nobility. Still, she didn't question it. Not when her father had personally ensured everything was perfect.
Amara's gaze drifted across the hall, searching instinctively. Torin was somewhere among the guests. He had to be.
Amara and Torin have been close friends since their college days, and after graduating, they took their relationship a step further, becoming almost inseparable and a hot topic among their friends.
So, being gathered here today to celebrate their engagement filled everyone with excitement.
Suddenly, the music stopped.
Amara's smile faltered a bit as her father stepped forward.
Anthony Caldwell carried himself with the same authority he always had, but tonight there was something different in the way he held the room; something colder and more deliberate.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, his voice steady and composed, "thank you all for attending tonight."
The room fell completely quiet, and Amara felt her pulse quicken, a flicker of anticipation rising in her chest.
"This evening was arranged for a special purpose," he continued.
A faint murmur of approval rippled through the guests. Amara drew a breath to steady herself. But something in her father's expression made her breath catch halfway.
"And so, I will not delay," Anthony said, his tone shifting almost imperceptibly.
The pause that followed felt too long and too heavy.
"This engagement will not be taking place," he announced, breaking the silence.
For a moment, the words did not register. They seemed to hang in the air, detached from meaning, as though they had been spoken in a language no one quite understood.
Then the whispers began.
Amara stared at him. "…Father?" she said, her voice quieter than she intended.
He did not bother sparing her a glance. He simply continued. "Instead, my daughter, Amara, has been selected as the political bride to the Alpha Prince of the Werewolf Kingdom."
This time, the reaction was immediate.
Gasps rippled through the hall. Conversations broke out in hushed urgency, disbelief flickering across faces that had moments ago been smiling.
Amara felt the ground shift beneath her. "No," she breathed, though she wasn't sure anyone heard her.
Her gaze moved instinctively, searching for one person.
Torin stood among the guests, exactly where he should have been—calm, composed, and completely still.
He was not moving toward her or questioning anything. He simply watched.
Something inside her tightened painfully. "Father," Amara said, stepping forward, her voice trembling now, "what are you saying?"
Anthony finally turned his gaze to her, and whatever she had expected to find there—reassurance, hesitation, even regret—was not present.
"It means what I have said," he replied.
"You told me this was my engagement party," she said, her voice rising despite herself. "You let me believe—"
"I allowed you to attend," he interrupted. "What you choose to believe is not my concern."
A quiet ripple of discomfort passed through the nearest guests.
Amara felt their attention shift, and her curiosity sharpened. Her humiliation was no longer private. It was unfolding before them all.
"You deceived me," she said, her throat tightening.
"I arranged an event. Control yourself," Anthony replied coolly.
"I will not," she snapped, the words escaping before she could stop them. "You cannot just stand there and decide my life like this. I am not something you can—"
Her voice broke as she turned back to Torin. He still did not speak or even look her in the eye. The silence answered for him.
Something in Amara cracked. Then, she turned back to her father.
"You're sending me to someone people call a monster who kills people at will," she said, her voice shaking now, barely contained. "Do you even care what happens to me?"
The reputation of the Alpha Prince of the Werewolf Kingdom wasn't a joke to anyone who cared to listen. Everyone in the Human Kingdom knew through the rumours that he was the worst Werewolf Royal to ever live on earth.
Someone who had no heart nor cared about the lives of others, taking them at his leisure with no consequences ever, was not someone anyone would want to be near, worth more, married to.
And now, with the peace treaty agreement, allowing the Werewolf Kingdom to take female daughters from the high-ranking Human Ministers as concubines to bear a pup for them, no woman would escape if chosen.
Amara could not escape.
Crack.
The sound of the slap cut through the room with brutal clarity.
Amara's head turned sharply with the force of it, pain blooming across her cheek as the world seemed to tilt for a moment.
A sharp intake of breath swept through the entire room before it fell still.
"You will not make a scene," Anthony said, his voice low, controlled, and far more dangerous than if he had raised it. "You will prepare yourself to be a political bride," he continued.
Amara stood there, stunned, her breath uneven as the finality of it settled over her like a weight.
There would be no discussion.
---
Amara did not remember walking out of the hall, only that she had to leave.
That she could not stay there—not with their eyes on her, not with the echo of that moment still ringing in her ears.
By the time she reached the parking area, her vision was blurred with tears she had not realized were falling.
"Torin!"
Her voice broke as she spotted him. He was standing beside his car, as though he had been waiting.
Relief surged through her, fragile but desperate, as she hurried toward him.
"I'm sorry," she said quickly, reaching for him. "I didn't know any of this would happen. I swear, I didn't—"
He did not react. The absence of it was unsettling.
"Torin?" she said again, more quietly.
"You shouldn't have come," he replied. The words landed strangely.
"We can leave right now," she said, the idea forming as she spoke it. "We don't need this. We can just go somewhere else—anywhere. We'll figure it out together."
"No."
The answer came too quickly, too easily.
Amara stared at him, a little surprise flashing across her eyes.
"I'm not running away with you," he said, his tone steady, almost detached.
Her breath caught. "What do you mean?"
"It means I'm not going to throw my life away," he replied.
The words felt sharp, but it was the lack of hesitation that hurt more.
"You said you loved me," she whispered.
"I did. But I'm not foolish," he said.
Her hand fell away from him. Something about his lack of reaction made her heart skip.
"You knew," she said slowly.
Torin didn't even hesitate before replying to her, "Yes."
The world seemed to narrow around her. Before she could respond, he opened his car door and got in. The engine started. And just like that, he was gone.
"Well, that was… pathetic, and a little bit disappointing."