The Cursed Alpha’s Mute Bride Episode 3

📖 The Story Continues

The Cursed Alpha’s Mute Bride – Episode 3

Nikolaus blocked the path to Wolfhart territory while his two companions emerged behind him in Eclipse colors. Wine loosened their smiles and sharpened the cruelty in their eyes. Wren clutched her wet dress against her chest and measured the clearing: deep water behind her, thornbushes to one side, and three wolves between her and escape.

“It’s only me,” Nikolaus said, treating her fear as an insult. He glanced at the men and widened his polished smile. “Why so shy, Wren? We’re all family—or we will be soon.” Their laughter moved through the trees while Wren raised one hand in a command to stop.

Nikolaus had watched her sign often enough to understand. He continued forward anyway, forcing Wren back until icy water entered her shoes. “Leave me alone,” she tried to say, but the words existed only in her mind. A scraped breath crossed her lips as Gertrude’s curse tightened around her throat.

“You’ll have to speak up,” Nikolaus mocked, basking in his friends’ amusement. At the engagement feast, he had performed the role of attentive fiancé. Beyond Anneliese’s sight, the mask slipped easily. Wren searched the creek bank and closed her fingers around a small stone, grateful for its solid weight even if it could not stop a wolf.

Nikolaus noticed the weapon. “Careful. Anneliese would be heartbroken if her strange sister injured the man she plans to marry.” His confidence came from knowing the family would blame Wren for anything he did. Gertrude would call her a liar, Anneliese would protect her engagement, and the other men would repeat whatever story Nikolaus gave them.

One companion blocked the border trail while the other circled beside the creek. They were packmates sworn to protect Wolfhart blood, yet their faces showed no trace of duty. “I saw how you looked at me in the hall,” Nikolaus said. “You should be grateful a man like me noticed you at all.”

He reached for the wet hair against her cheek. Wren struck his hand aside before he could touch her, and anger hardened his eyes. It was the same outrage Gertrude showed whenever someone she considered inferior resisted. Nikolaus caught Wren’s wrist and twisted until the stone fell from her numb fingers.

“Understand your position,” he murmured. “Once I marry the Alpha’s daughter, this pack will belong to us. I can keep you safe in the kitchen, where useless things still serve a purpose.” He dragged her closer, wine souring his breath, then promised she would also learn her place in his bedroom.

Revulsion burned through Wren’s fear. She stamped on his foot and wrenched sideways, tearing free when his grip loosened. Nikolaus shouted for the others to grab her, and both men rushed forward with the unnatural speed of wolves nearing a shift.

Wren ran toward the thornbushes, choosing torn skin over surrender. Branches clawed at her cloak while the men crashed after her. For three breathless strides, the darkness ahead looked open, but a body struck her from the side and drove her into the wet leaves.

One man caught her ankle before she could rise. Panic erupted, hot and blinding, but Wren kicked until her heel connected with his jaw. His amber eyes flashed as he raised a hand to hit her. Nikolaus stopped him with a calm order that made the threat worse: “Not the face. We still have to take her home afterward.”

Wren crawled backward until her palm found a jagged branch. She wrapped both hands around it and rose unsteadily. She possessed no awakened wolf, Alpha strength, or voice capable of summoning help. What remained belonged entirely to her—the refusal to surrender quietly.

She swung when Nikolaus approached. The branch opened a bright line beneath his eye, shocking the clearing into silence. He touched the blood as though Wren had violated the natural order. Then his claws lengthened and his expression stripped bare. “You little bitch.”

The other wolves closed around her, their eyes lit with predatory gold. Wren understood that resistance might cost her life, yet she lifted the branch again. If Gertrude had sent her here to disappear, Wren would leave wounds no one could easily hide.

Far beyond the clearing, Hunter Silver raised his head. He had been inspecting the southern patrol line with his Beta when an unfamiliar scent crossed the pines—fear, creek water, vanilla, and the aggression of trespassing wolves. Clay tested the air and identified Eclipse Pack, but no trace of hunted prey accompanied them.

Hunter had built his territory around strict laws. No one hunted the vulnerable beneath his trees, whether the victim belonged to his pack or an enemy’s. “Someone is in danger on my land,” he said, his Alpha command making action immediate. He and Clay raced toward the creek with the silent speed of wolves who knew every root.

Nikolaus lunged in the clearing. Wren braced with the branch raised, expecting claws to reach her before any miracle could. Instead, a roar shook rain from the canopy and sent birds exploding into the night. The Eclipse wolves froze as an Alpha’s fury rolled over them.

Hunter entered the clearing with Clay beside him, power sharpening the air. His gaze passed over Nikolaus’s claws, Wren’s torn cloak, and the men surrounding her. He understood the scene without demanding that the voiceless woman explain it first.

For one disorienting instant, Wren felt relief stronger than fear. The Alpha looked every bit as dangerous as the stories claimed, but his anger was aimed at the wolves who had trapped her. Nikolaus straightened and tried to recover the authority of Anneliese’s future mate.

Hunter’s eyes met Wren’s, and something in his expression became lethal. The temperature of the clearing seemed to fall as he stepped between her and the men. “Move away from her,” he commanded, and even wolves outside his pack instinctively obeyed before pride could stop them.