Lacy's POV

"You're not going to eat?"

I glance up from my untouched plate, my grip tightening on the fork.

Across from me, Mira, I think that's what her name is, one of the women who had made it her mission to get under my skin, leans her chin on her hand, smirking.

"I-" I stop myself before I say something that would have them pressing their hands deeper on my throat.

I needed to compose myself and not forget Vincent's rules.

They stare at me intently, waiting for my response, but I look down at the table, ignoring them instead.

Whispers. Soft snickers.

The food tasted awful, but with how the others were enjoying their meal, it was obvious that this plate was made especially for me.

How low would they go?

"She's still here?"

"Poor thing doesn't even know she's just a decoration, an arm candy even."

"Bet he already regrets bringing her."

"I haven't seen them together since she arrived. Some wife she is."

"Is she supposed to be our Luna? Pathetic."

My hands clench under the table. It's been weeks. Weeks since Vincent threw me into this world and disappeared. Not a word, not a glance. Just silence.

All I know is that I was dumped here and told I was their Luna.

A Luna with no wedding. No husband in sight.

Just a signature on papers.

Mira twirls a loose strand of hair between her fingers. "You know, we were expecting something a little more... grand. A wedding. A ceremony. Something worthy of a Lycan's mate." Her lips curve into a smirk. "Instead, we got you."

The others chuckle, some barely hiding their amusement.

"I heard she didn't even know what she was signing up for." A woman further down the table whispers loudly. "Imagine being so desperate for power and, I'm sure, money that you don't even check the fine print."

A guy snickers. "Bet she thought she was marrying a regular rich guy. Poor human."

My stomach knots. I press my lips together, forcing myself to stay silent.

Don't react. Don't let them get to you.

Mira hums, tilting her head. "Maybe he changed his mind. Maybe he took one look at you and thought... nah."

The laughter is instant, a ripple of cruel amusement.

"Or maybe he's keeping her around for entertainment," another one chimes in. "You know, like a pet."

My jaw tightens. "I'm his wife."

More laughter. Some scoff, some roll their eyes, and one guy actually chokes on his drink.

"Right," Mira drawls. "His wife...ha! Really? That explains why he hasn't looked at you since you got here."

I push the chair back and stand up.

"I'm not hungry."

I turn and leave, ignoring the murmured comments behind me as I walk toward the door.

"Guess she lost her appetite."

"Maybe she finally realized her place."

I grit my teeth and push forward.

The hallway feels suffocating.

I hate it here; at least at home, I could just ignore one person's snide remarks. Now I have to deal with multiple people.

I keep my head down as I walk, my hands trembling at my sides.

The entire pack treats me like a joke. A pathetic little human is thrown into a world she doesn't belong in.

And Vincent?

He's nowhere. No explanation, no appearance, just silence.

The only proof that I'm still his wife is the ridiculous amount of money that lands in my account like clockwork.

Like I'm just another transaction. I mean...that's what I wanted.

Right?

Every week, I have been receiving money in my account. The first day I received it, I was in shock. I couldn't believe that he actually followed through.

Mother was also taken care of. All my worries were gone.

Totally.

A small part of me thought he was bluffing before. And I secretly hoped he was so I could have an upper hand against him.

I take a slow breath, trying to calm myself from all the nasty words they threw at me.

I need to get out of these clothes, out of this suffocating house...

CRASH!

Something cold splashes against my legs. Then my arms. My hair.

Gasping, I jerk back. My eyes dart down, horror filling my chest. Milk. Flour. Eggs.

The sticky mixture clings to my skin, soaking into my clothes and hair

Choked back laughter rings out.

"Oh...ohh no," one of the maids gasps with a smile. She presses a hand to her lips.

"I'm so sorry, Luna. My hands must have slipped."

Her companion barely holds in a snort.

My jaw clenches.

I stare at them, my hands trembling madly. I fumble with my dress.

It wasn't an accident.

They had been waiting for me.

I can see it in their eyes- the joy they just got from doing this.

"You should clean yourself up, Luna," the first maid says, feigning concern.

"Wouldn't want Alpha Vincent to see you like this."

More laughter.

I don't respond. I can't.

Instead, I walk away and ignore how ashamed I am.

Back in my room, I scrub at my skin, my breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

This isn't working.

No matter how hard I try, I can't shake off their words.

I'm nothing here. A joke. A human playing pretend in a world that doesn't want me.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror, my wet hair clinging to my skin. My chest tightens.

Why the hell did Vincent even bring me here?

Why did he marry me just to leave me like this?

I swallow hard, my fingers curling into fists.

If he thinks he can just throw me into this world and abandon me, he's wrong.

I'm not going to sit here and take it.

I'm going to find him.

And I'm going to demand answers.

The small talk works for a while but as I continue to try to get the egg smell off my hair, I break down in tears.

Slowly falling to the floor, I crawl into a ball and cry my eyes out. I have never been this humiliated before in my life but I signed myself up for it.

The stupidest decision I have ever made.

I am drying myself up when I spot a shadow from under the door.

What do they want this time?

Lacy's POV

Anger boils in my veins at how they are not giving up on making my life a living hell here.

I wasn't the one who asked their psycho Lycan to choose me.

I huff and walk towards the door, hesitating before yanking the door open.

"Please, leave me alone. You've-" I finally look up and it's...

Vincent.

He leans against the doorframe.

Like he owns the world.

Those broad shoulders fill the space, arms crossed over his chest.

His dark eyes sweep over me, lingering just a little too long on my robe.

He takes a while before staring at me. I'm glaring at him.

What is he doing here?

My breath catches for half a second, then my anger shoves it down.

"You finally remembered you have a wife?" I snap, my voice sharp enough to cut.

He smirks, his head tilting slightly. "Wife?" he echoes, as if the word is a joke. "I don't recall a wedding."

"Yes, there was no wedding, but there's a contract, and on that contract, I am your WIFE!"

Something inside me cracks. I clench my fists; my fingernails digging into my palm.

"Your pack treats me like a joke," I say, my voice shaking, but I'm not afraid. It's humiliation -a deep-seated shame.

"They think you regret bringing me here. They think I'm-"

"A mistake?" he supplies smoothly.

I flinch.

His smirk deepens.

"You abandoned me here," I hiss. "Without a word, without a single explanation. Just threw me into a pack that hates me."

"And yet," he says, pushing off the doorframe, and attempts to step into the room, but I block him, "you're still here. You're not dead, so you're good."

"Is that supposed to be a good thing?" I throw my hands up in the air in frustration, and he takes that as a chance to fully enter the room.

"They haven't torn you to shreds or given you to our enemies, so yes. It's a good thing."

His presence feels suffocating. His scent fills the space, and it's all I can breathe in.

Maybe I should leave?

I absolutely cannot be in the same room with him.

I take a step back, but he follows, immediately closing the door and then steps away from me as if being close to me would burn him.

"You haven't been struggling too much, have you?" he murmurs, his eyes flicking to my still-damp hair. "I assume the money's been useful."

My stomach twists. "That's all I am to you? A transaction?"

"Did you expect something else?" His tone is mocking, amused. "A fairytale? A doting husband?"

I hate the way my throat tightens.

"Your pack thinks I'm a joke," I whisper, hating that my voice wavers. "That you don't even want me."

He steps closer.

"Do you want me to prove them wrong? Do you want me to shut them all up and respect you? Do you even deserve that respect?"

My breath stutters. I am left gaping at him and his hurtful words. Just because I signed myself to him doesn't mean I am any less human.

Tears prickle my eyes, but I refuse to let them drop. Not in front of this monster.

"You're, you're- I hate you!" I scream at him.

His eyes darken for one second.

Then he laughs; it's a deep mocking chuckle that sends me shivering.

"Stay away from me."

There is no amusement in his eyes, and he starts to stalk towards me.

"Stay away from me!"

My shouts fall on deaf ears as he continues to move closer.

With each step he takes forward, I take another backwards.

With such speed, I find myself held up against the wall, and my hands are above my head in his tight grip.

His left thumb strokes once, a slow, lazy drag against my pulse.

Is he going to kill me for speaking back? I broke one of the rules.

I jerk back. "Don't, please, I-"

"Don't what?" he murmurs. "Touch my wife?"

The way he says it, taunting me the more, frightens me. I try to press back, but there isn't anywhere else for me to go. His vast body presses into me, and the wall presses into my back.

"You've been waiting for me to show up, haven't you?" His fingers retrace my wrist before trailing up, brushing the inside of my arm. "Maybe you like the attention, even if it's just mockery."

"You're disgusting," I spit.

He chuckles and stares at me, grounding me in place.

His right hand lifts, and before I can stop him, not like I could with the position I was in, his fingers are on my chin, tilting my head up. His thumb traces my jaw. My pulse pounds in my ears.

"I could make them stop," he murmurs. "If you beg me to."

His nose grazes the curve of my neck, inhaling deeply. My entire body locks up.

His breath is warm against my skin.

My heart pounds.

I should shove him away. Tell him to leave. Demand my dignity back.

"Do you want me to?" He inhales again. He must be able to hear how fast my heart is beating.

But then his hand skims lower, his knuckles grazing the edge of my robe, barely touching me, but enough to make my skin burn.

Slowly, so slowly, he lifts his head, his lips near my ear.

When I finally meet his gaze, I see it-

A heated stare, A hunger I recognize.

One I was too familiar with, especially from all the men I had met.

Lust.

He presses himself closer to me as though he wants to join us together, skin to skin.

He glances from my eyes to my lips and over and over.

I know what is coming, but I need to stop it before it happens.

But as he leans in and is about an inch from my lips, I find myself closing my eyes and accepting his mouth on mine.