The Alpha’s Human Sacrifice

5.

The morning sun was merciless, its golden rays spreading over the square, bathing everything in a light that felt cruelly indifferent to Josephine's fate.

The bells tied to her ankles jingled with every step, the sharp chime digging into her nerves. It was a sound meant to ward off evil, but to her, it was an irritating reminder of what she had just endured—stripped, scrubbed, paraded—and what was yet to come.

The villagers stood in stiff rows, hands clasped, their heads bowed. Some prayed silently, others simply watched, their gazes cutting through her even though they refused to meet her eyes.

But she could feel them. Every glance from behind shutters or door cracks, every whispered word carried on the morning air. They looked at her like they would a prisoner walking to the gallows.

And maybe that's exactly what she was.

The emissaries waited at the edge of the square, their massive frames casting long shadows that seemed to stretch out and swallow everything in their path.

If they had been intimidating in the dim light of the house, out here, they were impossible.

Dren stood in the center, his golden hair catching the light in a way that made him look almost angelic, if not for his cold, sharp features and the calculating gleam in his silver eyes. The wiry emissary had the lazy air of a predator who knew he didn’t need to try too hard; his yellow eyes flickered with malice as his grin stretched unnaturally wide. The third emissary, the scarred one, was silent as ever, his broad shoulders and towering frame giving him an executioner’s presence.

Josephine approached slowly, her dress heavy against her legs, her breaths shallow. She didn't falter however as she approached, even as she felt their eyes linger on her, unblinking and heavy with scrutiny.

When she was close enough to see the glint of teeth in their smirks, she turned her gaze toward the horses instead.

Three of them stood at the edge of the square, their sheer size and presence nearly as intimidating as the wolves themselves. Their dark coats gleamed like polished obsidian, their glowing eyes flickering faintly in the morning light.

But it was the fourth horse that caught her breath.

The creature was white—blindingly so, as though its coat had been painted with light itself. Its mane shimmered like molten silver, and its intelligent eyes met hers with a calm, unsettling awareness. It was beautiful, impossibly so, and for a moment, Josephine felt the smallest flicker of awe.

This was hers. It had to be. Of course, the emissaries wouldn’t ride something so pristine.

"Here she is," the wiry one said, his voice cutting through his thoughts. "Ashenford's great offering. Though beautiful for a human, she still pales in comparison to everything else no?"

Josephine didn’t even glance at him.

Dren tilted his head, his gaze sweeping over her in a way that made her skin crawl. "Silent, are we?"

The wiry one, his yellow eyes glowing faintly, snorted. "She's scared stiff," he said with a grin. "You can smell it."

Josephine's jaw tightened. Is this how it was gonna be? These wolves smelling every whiff of her emotions? Thank f**k she was too emotionally drained to feel appreciation for their hella impressive figures.

"Is that what it is?" Dren asked, his tone mocking. He took a step closer, the leather of his boots creaking faintly. "I thought maybe she'd gone numb. A lamb resigned to the slaughter."

That did it.

Josephine's green eyes snapped up, sharp as glass. "You're wrong," she said coldly, her voice cutting through the air like a whip. "I'm not scared of you."

Dren stilled, his silver eyes narrowing as the wiry one let out a bark of laughter. Well, well," the wiry one said, his grin widening. "She's got claws."

"Let's hope the Alpha likes them," Dren murmured, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He stepped back, gesturing toward the horse. "Up you go, little bride. Unless you need help?"

Josephine's gaze flicked to the horse, its towering frame making her stomach twist. She wasn't sure how she was supposed to get on something that massive, but she sure as hell wasn't about to ask for assistance.

Dren took a step forward, his hand outstretched as if to help her.

Josephine acted on instinct.

With a sharp jerk, she stepped back, the bells at her ankles jingling furiously. Her hands reached down, gripping the leather straps in a swift motion, and she yanked the bells free.

The metal hit the cobblestones with a sharp clatter, the sound echoing in the stunned silence that followed.

Dren froze, his silver eyes narrowing in disbelief. The wiry one's grin faltered, replaced by a look of mild shock, and even the scarred emissary raised a brow, his amber eyes glinting faintly.

From behind her, a horrified gasp broke the stillness.

"You foolish girl!" one of the elders cried, his voice trembling with rage and fear. "Do you know what you've done? The bells are sacred! They protect—"

Josephine turned slowly, her green eyes blazing as she fixed the elder with a glare. "Protect me from what?" she asked, her voice cold and unyielding. "From them?" She jerked her chin toward the emissaries, her lips curving into a bitter smile. "I don't think your bells will make a difference."

The elder spluttered, his face turning red as the other villagers murmured amongst themselves.

Josephine didn't care.

She turned back to the horse, her heart hammering in her chest as she stepped closer. The animal shifted slightly, its luminous eyes watching her with an unsettling calm.

She inhaled deeply, her muscles coiling as she braced herself.

Then, with a sharp exhale, she jumped.

Her arms strained as she pulled herself up, her legs swinging over the horse's massive frame. For a moment, she wavered, the sheer size of the creature making it difficult to find her balance. But she steadied herself quickly, her back straight, her chin high.

The square fell silent once more.

Dren's lips twitched, his silver eyes narrowing as he watched her. "Interesting," he murmured, his voice low.

The wiry one let out a low whistle, his grin returning. "She's full of surprises, isn't she?"

Josephine gripped the reins tightly, her knuckles white. The horse shifted beneath her, its muscles rippling like waves beneath her legs. She had no idea how to control it, no idea if her experience with mortal horses would mean anything here.

But she didn't let her fear show.

Behind her, she heard the sound of hurried footsteps.

"Jo!" Cecily's voice cut through the silence, sharp and desperate.

Josephine didn't turn.

She had already said her goodbyes. If she saw Cecily now—if she saw her father's regretful eyes, or the twins' tear-streaked faces—her resolve might falter.

Instead, she tightened her grip on the reins, her green eyes fixed on the horizon.

Dren smirked faintly as he mounted his own horse, his movements smooth and effortless. The others followed, their massive frames moving with an unnatural grace that belied their size.

"Let's go," Dren said, his voice sharp and commanding.

Josephine urged her horse forward, her muscles tensing as the creature obeyed. The sound of hooves striking cobblestone echoed through the square, growing fainter as they left the village behind.

She didn't look back.