Sienna didn't know how long she sat on the cold floor.
The stone bit into her legs. Her wrists ached. Her mind spun in circles, trapped between the words "mate" and "curse."
She wasn't even sure which one hurt more.
Footsteps echoed again. She sat up, hoping maybe—just maybe—Daemon had come back. Maybe he'd changed his mind. Maybe the bond was stronger than the fear.
But it wasn't him.
It was two guards.
They dropped a tray on the floor with a loud clang. Bread. Water. No words.
As they turned to leave, Sienna overheard one of them mutter, "Why doesn't the Alpha just kill her? If she really is that cursed…"
"Shh. You know what the prophecy says. He kills her, he dies."
The door slammed shut again.
Sienna pressed her hand over her chest.
Cursed. Dangerous. Poison.
They believed it. Everyone did.
Maybe it's true… she thought, her throat tightening. Maybe that's why my old pack abandoned me. Why my wolf won't even speak to me.
She pulled her knees to her chest.
She wasn't a fighter. She never had been. She didn't have power like Daemon or control like others. She'd only ever wanted to belong. To be someone's mate. To matter.
But now she was a prisoner.
And worse—she was unwanted.
That night, she stared at the stone ceiling until her eyes burned.
Then she made herself a promise.
I won't cry for him. If he thinks I'm a curse, then I'll prove I'm not. Not for him. For me.
She closed her eyes.
But just before sleep took her, something stirred deep inside her — a quiet whisper from her wolf.
You are not a curse… not yet.