The Perfect Alpha Female

I'm getting married.

One thing was clear, Sarkhan wasn't a fragment of my imagination. Jordan was lying.

My attire wouldn't raise any suspicion.

I took a look at the dress I had chosen for the day: It was a local brand. The Sheath Dress was ordinary and Red with loud Peach flowers. Instead of heels like I usually prefer I chose boots with a sensible 3-inch heel.

I hummed, giving a nod at the easygoing makeover I had done with Dutch Braid. Nothing looked ostentatious.

The Lycans or whatever they were that had saved me had now left me to die. But why save me at all? Why not just leave me there to die altogether instead of saving me and then leaving me to die?

I couldn't fathom anything that could warrant such resentment.

Was killing merciful than leaving a person to suffer, waiting for an eventual death, mercy?

I had my breakfast and yesterday's dinner in my room. I didn't have any strength left to look anyone in the eye, after knowing what I was going to do today.

They didn't want me