Page 5 of Alpha's Exiled Mate

I stumbled back, shock and terror intertwining, my heart hammering wildly.

Lord Thornfield smiled, his attempt at kindness twisting into something sinister. “You’ll have wealth and status beyond your wildest dreams, even if only for a time. It’s far better than a slave’s fate.”

Bile rose in my throat. They’d made their decision—my voice meant nothing.

Greta approached, her bony fingers reaching for me. “But we can’t risk you running or revealing the truth, so I’ll add a little safeguard.”

Before I could react, her fingers pressed against my chest, right over my heart. A sharp, icy pain shot through me, stealing my breath and locking my scream in my throat. The dark magic seeped into my blood, coiling around my heart.

“It’s done,” Greta said, stepping back with a satisfied nod. “If she tries to flee or betray us, her heart will shatter.”

I collapsed to my knees, the alien magic pulsing within me, my wolf howling in agony. Cold sweat drenched my forehead as I curled in pain.

“Now,” Lady Thornfield said calmly, “let’s begin the transformation.”

Greta produced a crystal vial filled with purple liquid. “This contains Viossi’s essence,” she explained. “Mixed with your blood, it will mimic her every feature.”

She sliced my palm with a small knife, letting my blood drip into the vial. The liquid bubbled, turning a deep crimson.

“Drink it,” Greta commanded, thrusting the vial toward me. “Every drop.”

My hands shook, but I refused to take it—my last act of defiance.

Viossi snarled, snatching the vial. She grabbed my hair, yanking hard—tearing out a few strands—and pinched my face, forcing my mouth open.

“Drink!” she hissed, pouring the liquid down my throat.

At first, I tasted only a strange metallic tang. Then a searing heat erupted, spreading like molten fire through my veins. My bones twisted, my skin stretched and reshaped. My hair shortened and darkened, my face molded by invisible hands into Viossi’s.

I wanted to scream, but my voice was trapped. Through the unbearable pain, I saw Viossi’s triumphant smile and the relieved expressions of Lord and Lady Thornfield.

Then the world spun, and darkness swallowed me whole.

Chapter 2

Lilia

My head pounded, and my body felt foreign, heavy, like it belonged to someone else. I slowly open my eyes, the room was thick with the scent of melted candle wax and polished oak, and pale moonlight slipped through heavy velvet curtains, casting ghostly shadows across the unfamiliar space.

I lay on a luxurious bed, its soft silks and intricate embroidery far too fine for a slave like me, feeling more like a costume than a comfort. My chest tightened, the sorceress’s curse humming faintly within, a constant reminder of the invisible chain now binding me. Hesitantly, I touched my face, and my breath caught—my fingers brushed against unfamiliar contours. My hair, once long and golden, was now shorter, darker, with soft curls at the ends, just like Viossi’s.

The transformation was complete. I was no longer Lilia. I was “Viossi”—a living deception.

In the next three days, I was forced to accept relentless training under Lady Thornfield’s iron grip. Her voice was sharp as a whip as she molded me into a perfect replica of her daughter. She drilled me on every detail of aristocratic life—howto hold a fork with delicate precision, how to glide across a room with effortless grace, how to speak with the haughty cadence of a noblewoman. Every mistake earned a stinging rebuke or a sharp rap from her slender wooden ruler. My back ached from hours of forced posture, my fingers cramped from practicing intricate gestures, and my mind reeled from the constant pressure to become someone else.

“Chin up, eyes proud—never look down!” Lady Thornfield’s commands echoed in my ears, even now, in the quiet of my room. “You’re a Thornfield now, not some lowly slave.”

Finally, the night before the wedding arrived.

Thornfield Manor was shrouded in an eerie stillness, as if the world itself held its breath. The grand estate, with its towering stone walls and sprawling gardens, felt more like a prison than ever.

Moonlight filtered through the heavy drapes, casting long, ghostly shadows across the room where I stood, staring into a mirror that reflected Viossi’s face.

The irony was bitter. Despite the spell that had sculpted my features into Viossi’s—her raven curls, her flawless porcelain skin, her sharp cheekbones—I had never felt more acutely aware of my true self. Beneath the glamour, I was still Lilia, the orphaned werewolf who couldn’t shift, the slave who had no voice, no choice, no future. This transformation was a cruel masquerade, and I was nothing more than a pawn in their game.

I pressed a hand to my chest, where the curse Greta had woven pulsed faintly, a cold reminder of my leash. If I tried to flee or reveal the truth, my heart would shatter. The thought sent a shiver down my spine, and my wolf stirred faintly within me, a restless presence trapped behind an invisible barrier. She whined softly, sensing my fear, but she was as powerless as I was.

A sharp knock at the door jolted me from my thoughts. Before I could respond, Viossi swept into the room without so much as a pause, her silk gown rustling like a serpent’s hiss. She didn’t bother with courtesies—she never had. To her, I was no more than a tool, unworthy of even basic respect.