The Alpha's Unwanted Bride novel Chapter 475

Chapter 475: I WANTED YOU

The knock came again. She didn’t answer it.

Jasmine sat on the edge of the bed, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her gaze sharp and unmoving on the door. She had no interest in playing dress-up for a monster. She didn’t care how fine the silverware was or how grand the plates looked. Nothing about this place felt real. Or safe.

But the door creaked open anyway.

Three maids entered quietly, heads bowed as though they expected her to attack. The first one—a girl with a long braid and trembling hands—held a gown in her arms. It was a soft burgundy, with gold embroidery curling up the sleeves like flames. The kind of thing she might have loved once, when she was still free. When her body wasn’t aching and her cheek wasn’t swollen from Leviathan’s slap.

Jasmine’s lips pressed into a tight line.

She didn’t speak. She didn’t have to.

The girls moved quietly, efficiently. They brushed her hair, braided it in a loose crown. They dabbed something cold against her bruised cheek. Jasmine flinched, but said nothing. The dress was slid over her arms and tightened at the waist. They placed slippers on her feet.

She didn’t thank them. She didn’t even look at them.

Once they left, Jasmine stood and stared at herself in the mirror.

Her reflection looked like a ghost. Hollow eyes. A face she barely recognized. She touched her belly again, the only thing grounding her to reality. To hope. The baby shifted slightly beneath her palm.

"You are not staying here," she whispered to herself, voice low and firm. "You will not die in this place. You will get out."

Even if she had to tear the entire fortress down with her bare hands.

⸻

The great hall was warm, a sharp contrast to the chill that hung in her room. The table was already set when she arrived—golden plates, tall goblets, flickering candles casting soft glows on everything. A feast laid out before her like some twisted peace offering.

She did not sit until he arrived.

Alpha Hunter entered with the confidence of a man who believed the world bent for him. Cloaked in black again, a dark pendant resting against his chest. His sharp eyes took her in slowly—her stiff shoulders, her tight jaw, the bruise still darkening her cheek.

He said nothing about it.

Instead, he gestured to the seat across from him. "Please."

Jasmine sat. Slowly.

She didn’t touch the food.

He did.

He cut into his meat without looking up, the scrape of his knife against the plate breaking the silence.

"I imagine you’re not hungry," he said finally.

"Not particularly."

"Pity. I ordered this especially for you."

"Next time, order freedom."

He chuckled. Not insulted. Not fazed. "Still so sharp. You’ll dull eventually."

"I’d rather die."

Hunter’s fork paused mid-air, then lowered again.

They sat in silence for a moment, the candles between them flickering like old secrets.

"I never intended for this to be cruel," he said.

Jasmine looked at him like he’d grown horns. "You kidnapped me."

"I kept you alive," he corrected. "Would you have preferred I left you for dead?"

She said nothing.

Hunter set down his cutlery. "I understand your hatred. But hatred clouds judgment. It limits power. I want to offer you something else. Control. A future."

"You mean submission."

"I mean survival. Safety. Perhaps even influence—if you’re wise enough to accept it."

She shook her head. "None of that matters unless I know Xaden is okay."

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