My Lover Sold Me For 300 Silver Coins — Then I Crashed His Wedding
Part 1
The silver coins clinked against the heavy oak table, each one sealing my fate.
Kneeling on the freezing stone floor of the great hall, I shivered in the damp draft.
A dull ache pulsed through my knees from endless hours of brutal scrubbing.
Near the roaring hearth, Greg casually adjusted the rich fur collar of his velvet doublet.
For three years, I had been his shadow.
I had tended his wounds when rogue wolves tore his chest open.
I had believed his whispered promises in the dark.
He told me that once he secured his alpha title, I would be his recognized mate.
But I possessed no wolf.
I was a defective half-breed, an embarrassment in our brutal society.
Now, he was negotiating my price.
“Three hundred pieces of silver, Dan, and the mining rights for three moons,” Greg said.
His voice held no emotion.
Dan, a massive emissary from the savage northern packs, weighed the leather pouch in his massive hand.
He cast a disdainful look down at me.
“The treaty demands five strong workers,” Dan growled.
Greg took a casual sip of his spiced wine.
“You have four waiting in the courtyard,” he said.
He finally gestured toward me with his silver chalice.
“This one makes five.”
My chest tightened so hard I could barely draw breath.
I stared up at him, searching for any sign of a cruel joke.
Dan grabbed my jaw, tilting my face toward the firelight.
“She is skin and bone,” the northerner scoffed.
“She smells faintly of our kind, but there is no wolf in her.”
“She won’t survive a week in the northern snows.”
Greg refused to meet my eyes.
“She heals quickly,” he said.
“I am marrying lady Heather in six weeks.”
“I cannot have loose ends lingering in my keep.”
Hearing those callous words strike the cold air felt exactly like taking a physical blow to the stomach.
Discarding me to the most brutal pack in the realm was just a convenient way for him to clean house.
Impressing his newly acquired highborn bride demanded a pristine, flawless reputation.
“Greg,” I whispered.
It was the first time I had spoken.
His jaw tightened instantly.
“Silence, you forget your place.”
A bitter laugh scraped its way up my throat.
The heartbreak calcified into a burning, white-hot fury.
“I bled for you when the rogues ambushed you,” I said.
“My hands stitched you back together while your pureblooded warriors fled.”
He snapped.
“Do not overstate your worth, Megan,” he hissed.
“You are a defective.”
“I am doing you a mercy by not having you executed.”
Dan chuckled darkly and signaled his guards.
Heavy iron cuffs clamped around my wrists.
The cold metal bit deep into my skin.
They dragged me toward the heavy oak doors.
I looked back over my shoulder one last time.
Greg had already turned his back to me, counting his silver.
The doors slammed shut, plunging me into the howling blizzard outside.
I made a silent vow to the winter sky.
I would survive.
The journey north was a three-week descent into hell.
We marched from dawn until the moon rose.
We trudged through snowdrifts that reached our thighs.
Two of the other prisoners died before we crossed the first frozen river.
My thin shoes disintegrated, leaving my feet wrapped in bloody rags.
But I did not weep.
I kept putting one foot in front of the other.
The biting cold felt strangely manageable.
My bruises vanished within days.
An unnatural heat began to pulse through my veins.
On the twenty-first day, the jagged black spires of the northern fortress loomed through the storm.
This was the seat of king Brian.
He was a terrifying conqueror, an alpha who had supposedly gone mad after his royal mate and infant daughter were slaughtered decades ago.
The iron gates groaned open.
We were herded into the massive central courtyard.
Hundreds of massive warriors populated the space.
A guard struck the back of my knees with a spear shaft.
I crashed down onto the icy stone.
The heavy doors of the keep opened.
A suffocating silence fell over the entire courtyard.
King Brian emerged.
He was a terrifying force of nature, standing well over six feet tall.
He wore the pelt of a massive bear over his broad shoulders.
His glowing crimson eyes swept over us with disdain.
“Greg mocks me,” the king’s deep voice vibrated through the stones.
Dan dropped to one knee.
“He sent this defective to replace the deficit,” Dan said, gesturing to me.
“She has no wolf, but she survived the march.”
Brian waved a massive, calloused hand dismissively.
“Brand them and put them to work,” he commanded.
The guard grabbed my bound wrists and yanked me to my feet.
The sudden jerk tore the collar of my ragged dress.
It exposed my left collarbone to the freezing air.
King Brian froze.
He had been turning away, but his massive frame locked up.
A low, terrifying growl began to vibrate in his chest.
Every warrior in the courtyard immediately dropped to their knees in submission.
The king spun around.
He crossed the courtyard in a blur of motion.
He stopped inches from me, towering over my trembling form.
The guard released me and scrambled backward in terror.
Brian stared down at me.
His chest heaved.
His scarred, trembling hand reached out toward my neck.
He pushed my matted hair away, his eyes locked on the birthmark exposed on my collarbone.
He fell to his knees in the snow, his glowing eyes locked on my face as he whispered the five words that changed everything.
