Chapter 3

Artem Volkov The Volkov bloodline was marked by wolves. They were not ordinary wolves, of course, but werewolves, a curse inherited from generation to generation. Most of the time, we looked like ordinary men. But there was always something in us. A strange gleam in the depths of our eyes. A violence sleeping beneath the skin. No one really knew where the curse had begun, nor whether it was a punishment, a twisted blessing, or simply a rotten inheritance that refused to disappear. The only certain thing was the moon. When the full moon came, we stopped being men. And we became beasts. That was why I couldn’t have chosen a better way to ruin everything than with this marriage. During the journey, keeping the mountain wolves away was already quite complicated. Animals were naturally drawn to us; they could sense what we were, even without understanding it. And when we crossed miles of snowy forests, it never took long before they started following us. The last thing we needed was to drag an entire pack into inhabited territory. That was why I preferred staying outside. While the others traveled in the vehicles, I took the motorcycle to watch the road, the forest, and any strange movement. It was more practical to react quickly to any unexpected problem… and, if I am honest, also because I always thought better away from people. Especially away from my family. And away from my new wife. That was the plan, at least. After what happened with Fadric, the situation had become particularly uncomfortable. My brother had disappeared like a coward, leaving behind his fiancée, our family, and a disaster impossible to ignore. And I, in a moment of brilliant stupidity, had decided to interfere. Now Lyra was my wife. A human woman who probably hated this arranged marriage. When the mansion finally appeared between the trees, huge and silent beneath the gray sky, I knew we had arrived. Just as I was about to go inside, my father intercepted me at the entrance with that calm and measured expression that normally meant I was about to have a conversation I had no desire to survive. I took off my gloves finger by finger and gave him a look that should have been warning enough. Apparently, it wasn’t. “Enough of ignoring your wife,” he said. “That is not how a marriage begins.” My gaze shifted toward the huge front doors where Lyra had disappeared only a few moments earlier. She had not looked back. Of course, my father noticed. He noticed everything. I let out a slow sigh and shook my head. “And what do you gain by continuing with this avoidance?” he insisted. “You chose this. You married her. Now behave like a man and take responsibility.” I exhaled deeply and ran a hand through my beard, already irritated. My father took one step closer. “If I had known you would behave like this, I would have forbidden you from interfering that day. Why did you do it? Why did you accept?” That moment came back all at once. The church. The silence. The humiliation floating in the air, so heavy that no one could pretend they did not feel it. Watching her endure it was worse. She looked so small sitting there on that bench, trying not to break under the weight of every gaze in the room. That image stayed with me. She was beautiful, by definition. With large dark eyes and full pink lips, her skin had a golden tone, something uncommon there, where winter seemed to leave everyone paler than ghosts. Slim and delicately featured, her black hair was braided and fell over her chest, scattered with small white flowers. The ivory-colored dress she wore, elegant and perfectly fitted, highlighted every curve of her natural figure with a silent and dangerous perfection. I remember thinking that Fadric was one damn lucky bastard. And also a complete i***t. I, on the other hand, clearly was not. My father was still waiting for an answer that, honestly, I did not know how to give. I knew why he was upset. “I will talk to her,” I said at the end. “I will apologize. That is all.” My father did not look impressed. “She is going to live in your house, Artem. She is going to share your life. That is not fixed with a quick apology.” I did not take my eyes off him, even while my patience was running out with every passing second. There was no way I was going to say it out loud. That I had made the decision on impulse. I had not stopped to think about what it would really mean to have a wife. To share a house, a life, a future with someone I barely knew. I saw the disaster in front of me and I reacted. Nothing more. Like a complete i***t. Lyra Darach By the time I was old enough to travel long distances, my father had already passed away, so I never had the chance to leave the borders of my family’s lands. Still, married life was not what I had expected. The routine was simple: three meals were served every day, with dinner being the heaviest of them all. It had something to do with going to bed with a full stomach so the body could stay warm longer. According to my new status, I was not allowed to walk around alone, cook, or help in any way. Having others at my service filled me with unease, but I tried to rely on good manners and accept every gesture with a smile. I didn’t want Willem to think I was an ungrateful, spoiled girl, and I certainly didn’t want to go against my husband’s wishes—or disappoint him. I had never lived the life of a highborn lady. I did take every chance I could to escape the confines of the mansion and walk outside, almost always in the pleasant company of Bredon. His kindness was truly a blessing. The rest of the time, I was alone. When I left my family behind, all I brought with me was a small chest with a little jewelry, some old books (which I had already read cover to cover three times), a medium trunk with my winter clothes, and my civil engineering certificates. They were useless to me now, but if I had left those documents with my stepmother, she probably would have burned them. Since I had no one to talk to except myself, every day I gathered a little more courage to take the first step and seek out Artem. I had become his wife, and that was my right. I didn’t even know where he spent his nights, but I could ask. In a few more days, I would probably even think of something to talk about when I saw him. More than anything, I wanted to thank him and give him the wedding gift I had saved for my future husband. It was a pair of gold cufflinks shaped like roses, perfect for adding elegance. As an excuse to start a conversation, it was actually a very good one. The accessory had been crafted in Italy with deep attention to detail. It saddened me to hold them in my hands, but the piece meant a great deal to me, and I believed it would make a good gift. My father had wanted roses to become the emblem of our house, but… Well, he died before we could ever adopt it formally. Before my eyes could fill with tears, I placed the cufflinks back inside my small chest and shut the lid, annoyed. “Maybe it’s time to leave the past behind,” I murmured.