Sold to the Devil

Hazel's Pov:

I stood frozen in the cold, unlit hallway of my father's house, pressing my spine against the peeling floral wallpaper. A relentless, chilling dread gripped my heart. The massive mahogany doors of the parlor were left slightly ajar, spilling warm, golden light onto the dark hallway floorboards. I had just come from scrubbing the cellar floors, my hands aching and blistered, when my stepmother’s voice pierced the quiet afternoon.

"I suggest you get her married off to Vane Silas Adler, that would only be fair." Beatrice’s voice was smooth, calculating, and laced with absolute malice.

The mere mention of Vane Silas Adler sent violent shivers running down my spine. The ragged towel I held in my hands dropped to my feet. Vane Silas Adler. His name was a dark curse whispered in the shadows of every pack territory. Across the city and throughout the sprawling lycan clans, rumors painted him as an unyielding brute, a merciless lycan king who ruled his domain with iron and blood. It was an established fact that his previous three wives had all met tragic, terrifying fates. One supposedly threw herself from the highest tower of his fortress, another wasted away from sheer terror, and the third was returned to her family in a sealed silver casket. No one survived his bed. No one survived his wrath.

Being wolf-less and mate-less, I had spent the last twenty-three years locked away behind these towering estate walls. The servants treated me like an invisible ghost. My family treated me like an unwanted drudge. I served as a constant source of humiliation to my father, Arthur Belmont. In our world, the firstborn daughter of an esteemed bloodline was meant to awaken her inner wolf at sixteen, bringing honor and alliances to the family. When my sixteenth birthday passed in agonizing silence, and my eighteenth full moon yielded no transformation, my fate was officially sealed. I became the estate maid, scrubbing floors in a house I was supposed to inherit. My father, burdened by crippling financial debts from a string of failed pack investments and gambling losses, despised my mere presence. Now, finding themselves desperate for coin, they were prepared to discard me to the devil himself to clear their ledgers.

I peered carefully around the heavy doorframe, ensuring the shadows concealed my presence. The parlor was a vision of excessive wealth. Crystal chandeliers cast a dazzling array of light over the plush velvet couches. Across the living room, my half-sister Chloe was preening in the radiant glow of her lavish engagement gifts. Silver trays piled high with fine silks, imported perfumes, and rare jewels covered every available surface. These gifts were from Caleb, the formidable future Alpha of our clan. My heart clenched with a bitter, hollow ache. Caleb was the very man who would have been my destined mate had my wolf awakened. We had played together as children in the garden, making innocent promises. Now, he was marrying my sister, and I was being auctioned off to a murderer.

Chloe, eager to exert her dominance, sifted through a velvet tray and pulled out a stunning piece of jewelry. She held up an ornate emerald ring, letting the heavy green stone catch the chandelier's light. She turned her head slightly, catching sight of my shadow lingering near the hallway entrance. A wicked smile curled her painted lips.

"Hazel? Put this ring on my finger." Chloe commanded in a sharp, condescending voice.

I stepped out of the shadows and walked slowly into the center of the parlor. My worn, threadbare dress brushed against the expensive Persian rug. I kept my head bowed, avoiding eye contact with my father, who sat by the fireplace swirling a glass of amber liquor. I stepped forward and lifted the heavy piece of jewelry from the velvet cushion. The emerald was cold against my calloused fingertips. The gold band felt impossibly heavy, a tangible weight of the life I had been ruthlessly denied.

"Someone like you might never wear that in your entire life." Beatrice sneered from the settee, leaning back against the embroidered cushions.

The sheer spite in her voice hit me with the force of a physical blow. A wave of nervous sweat coated my palms, and my hands began to tremble violently. I tried to suppress the shaking, but the terror of my impending doom with Vane Silas Adler mixed directly with the cruel humiliation of the present moment. I raised the ring toward my sister's outstretched hand. Before I could slide it over her knuckle, the ring slipped from my slick fingers.

I watched in pure horror as the heavy emerald plummeted toward the ground. It clattered loudly against the cold marble floor tiles, bounced erratically near the edge of the rug, and vanished beneath the heavy wooden legs of a mahogany cabinet.

"Did you just lose my ring?" Chloe's voice went venomous, ripping through the quiet room.

The moment her shriek echoed off the walls, wild panic seized my chest. I fell to my knees, scrambling across the hard floor. I desperately swept the dusty floorboards beneath the cabinet, my fingers frantically searching for the smooth metal band. My heart pounded against my ribs like a caged bird. If I could just find it before she moved, maybe the punishment would be light. I leaned forward, pressing my cheek near the dirty baseboards to glance underneath.

A sudden wave of scalding hot tea splashed directly across the top of my head.

I screamed in raw agony. The boiling liquid soaked into my scalp, singeing my hair roots and sending ribbons of blistering heat dripping down my cheeks. The tea stung my eyes, blinding my vision with tears, and burned the tender skin of my neck. I fell back on my heels, clutching my burning face as the pungent smell of chamomile and scorched skin filled the air. My whole body shuddered violently from the intense, sweeping pain.

Chloe looked down at me, an empty porcelain cup swaying loosely in her manicured hand. A look of supreme satisfaction twisted her beautiful features.

"This is where you belong... on the floor." Chloe sneered, stepping closer.

She tossed the delicate teacup onto a nearby chair and lunged down. She plunged her sharp, manicured nails deep into my tea-soaked scalp. I whimpered as she locked her fingers into my roots, yanking my head back with ruthless force. My neck arched painfully, forcing my tear-filled eyes toward her dark, condemning ones. Her grip was ironclad, threatening to rip the hair straight from my skull.

"If my engagement with Caleb turns into ruins because of your clumsiness, I promise on your dead mom’s grave, I will send you to be with her." Chloe hissed the words, spraying drops of saliva against my cheek.

Throughout this entire agonizing ordeal, my father sat across the parlor in his winged armchair. He sipped his amber drink with a sickening, callous indifference. His eyes tracked my suffering with the same boredom one might reserve for watching rain hit a window glass. He offered neither a reprimand to Chloe for her violence nor a single shred of pity to me. My own blood merely adjusted his posture and placed his glass on a coaster. Chloe shoved my head forward, releasing my hair with a violent jerk that sent me sprawling back against the tiles. I choked on a sob, my vision swimming with pain. I spotted the glint of the emerald ring near the baseboard. Snatching it up with trembling, bruised fingers, I laid it upon the glass center table without a word and scrambled backward out of the parlor.

Banished to the kitchen, I sagged against the cool metallic surface of the cooking counters. I grabbed a rough linen towel, soaked it under the cold tap, and pressed it against my burning face. I carefully wiped the sticky tea and silent tears from my blistering cheeks. The skin along my neck was already raised in angry red welts. Every movement sent a fresh spike of pain throbbing through my skull. My hands trembled uncontrollably as I reached for a heavy iron knife. I had to focus on my chores. I frantically chopped carrots, celery, and onions, tossing them into sizzling pans to prepare the elaborate dishes required for the engagement celebration.

As the kitchen filled with the aroma of roasting meats and heavy spices, my mind spiraled relentlessly into darkness. I was haunted by horrible visions of the monstrous lycan they planned to trade me to. How long would I survive in Vane Silas Adler's fortress? Would he kill me on the first night for being wolf-less, or would he draw out the torture for weeks? My destiny was bound to a man whose reputation was steeped in blood and unmatched brutality, all to settle the debts of a father who did not care if I lived or died. The deafening chop of my knife against the wooden board was the only thing keeping me anchored to reality.

Moments later, the heavy kitchen doors swung open loudly. Beatrice burst in, her sharp eyes scanning my disheveled appearance with clear disdain.

"Bring a tray with a fresh glass of water into the parlor immediately." Beatrice barked the order, adjusting an expensive pearl necklace around her throat. She did not wait for my response, vanishing back into the corridor.

I exhaled a shaky breath, setting the heavy knife aside. Assuming Caleb's family had finally arrived from across the territory for the formal wedding arrangements, I wiped my wet hands on my apron. I dreaded seeing Caleb's parents. They used to look at me with such warmth, but after I failed to shift, their warmth had turned to thinly veiled pity. I grabbed a polished silver serving tray and set a tall crystal glass upon it. I filled it to the brim with ice-cold water, placing a pristine white napkin beside it. I smoothed down the wrinkles of my worn maid’s dress, preparing to endure another round of silent humiliation.

I pushed through the wooden swinging doors and stepped into the grand parlor with lowered eyes. The sprawling room felt entirely different. The atmosphere in the massive space had shifted drastically. The air was incredibly thick, heavy with a dominant, overpowering scent that made the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand up straight. It was not the familiar, woody scent of Caleb or his father. This scent was raw, untamed power—like crushed pine leaves, midnight ozone, and cold steel.

Keeping the silver tray steady in my hands, I lifted my gaze just a fraction. Instead of Caleb's kin crowding the sofas, an imposing stranger occupied the center leather armchair opposite my father.

My breath caught in my throat. He possessed impossibly broad shoulders, framed by an impeccably tailored black three-piece suit that reeked of vast wealth and lethal authority. The dark fabric hugged thick, muscular arms and a broad chest that expanded with slow, measured breaths. He sat with a relaxed, predatory grace, one large hand resting casually on the armrest. A razor-sharp jawline drew my attention upward, stark and rigid. His face was framed by thick, midnight-black hair that fell slightly over his forehead. The man did not just sit in the room; he dominated the space entirely, making my powerful father look incredibly small and insignificant in comparison.

When he slowly raised his head, our gazes collided with the force of a physical impact.

I froze mid-step. His faint emerald-green eyes locked onto mine. They were striking, chillingly beautiful, and carried a haunting, inexplicable familiarity that rooted my feet entirely to the floorboards. Staring into those striking green depths sent a massive shockwave straight down my spine. A dormant, ancient vibration fired off deep within my chest, rattling my ribs and stealing all the oxygen from my lungs. I could not look away. The terrifying aura emanating from him demanded total submission, yet I found myself entirely mesmerized by the sharp, intense weight of his stare.

"Why are you standing there? Drop the water and leave." My father snapped, breaking the heavy silence. His voice was laced with deep irritation, annoyed by my sudden hesitation in front of the formidable guest.

I blinked rapidly, tearing my gaze away from the imposing stranger. The strange, pulsing vibration in my chest still thrummed wildly against my heart. I tucked my chin firmly back to my chest, determined to finish my task and escape the suffocating tension in the room.

Keeping my eyes firmly glued to the edge of the glass table, I stepped forward with the serving tray. The ice clinked gently against the crystal glass as my trembling hands navigated the distance. I had to walk directly past the edge of the settee where my sister lounged.

As I passed Chloe's chair, her foot shot out across my path in a vicious blur.

My toe caught hard against her sharp shoe heel. The sudden impact destroyed my balance instantly, sending me sprawling forward with a sharp gasp. I threw my arms out to brace my fall, abandoning the silver tray entirely. The heavy crystal glass flew from my hands, spinning wildly through the air in a terrifyingly slow arc. The ice cubes scattered like shattered diamonds under the chandelier light.

I collided painfully with the rug, my knees taking the brutal force of the fall. The heavy crystal glass overturned directly over the dark stranger. A cascade of ice-cold water drenched his stern face, splashing over his sharp jaw and soaking the front of his pristine black suit.