Chapter 2: Strip

The carriage ride to Ronan’s estate passed in silence. Naya sat across from him still wearing her wedding dress, the fabric stiff and heavy against her skin. She kept waiting for him to say something. Anything.

He never looked at her once.

When the carriage finally stopped, Ronan stepped out first. He didn’t offer his hand. Naya climbed down on her own, gathering the hem of her dress before it dragged through the dirt.

Rows of servants stood waiting on the estate steps, backs straight, eyes forward. They bowed as Ronan approached. Nobody bowed to her.

She caught the whispers instead.

"That’s her."

"Elara’s sister."

"The replacement bride."

Naya kept her chin up and followed him inside, though nothing about the house felt like it belonged to her. Ronan didn’t slow his pace to match hers. She had to hurry just to stay a few steps behind him, already understanding that this was how things would be.

He led her into a private room and shut the door.

"Sit," he said.

Naya remained standing. "I’d rather hear whatever this is first."

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. "You should understand the terms of this marriage."

His voice stayed level, almost bored, and somehow that made it worse than shouting would have.

"You’ll fulfill your duties as my wife whenever required. Publicly, you’ll stand beside me. You’ll attend gatherings. You’ll behave the way a Lycan King’s wife is expected to behave."

"And privately?"

"Privately, you have none of the authority that title usually carries." He held her gaze. "You don’t run this household. You don’t involve yourself in my affairs. You don’t question my decisions."

"So I’m your wife in name only."

"You’re my wife in whatever way I decide."

Naya’s hands curled at her sides. "Then why marry me at all? You wanted Elara."

"I did."

"She’s gone. I’m not her."

"I know."

Two words. Cold and final. He wasn’t confused about who stood in front of him. He knew exactly who she was, and he had married her anyway.

"Then why—"

"Because your family gave me a choice," Ronan said. "A Ripley daughter, or war. Elara wasn’t available. You were."

There was nothing left to argue. Naya swallowed the rest of her questions and said nothing at all.

Dinner came sooner than she wanted.

She entered the dining hall expecting a quiet meal. Instead she found a long table filled with unfamiliar faces, all of them turning to look at her the moment she walked in. Ronan sat at the head of the table. A seat waited beside him, and for one foolish second, Naya thought it might mean something.

It didn’t.

The moment she sat down, the whispers started.

"Isn’t that Elara’s sister?"

"The spare bride, they’re calling her."

"Poor Ronan. First he loses Seraphine, then he’s stuck marrying the murderer’s sister."

Naya kept her spine straight and her eyes on her plate. She glanced at Ronan, waiting for him to say something, anything, to shut the comments down.

He didn’t even look up. He continued eating like the words floating around the table belonged to someone else’s dinner entirely.

That silence told her more than an insult ever could. He wasn’t going to protect her from his own people. Whatever happened to her here, she would face it alone.

It didn’t take long before someone said it outright.

"Tell me," a woman near the end of the table said, voice sweet and cutting, "did you know what your sister was planning? Or did the whole family just look the other way?"

The table went quiet, waiting.

Naya set down her fork. "I had nothing to do with what happened to Seraphine. I didn’t know what Elara planned to do. I didn’t know she would run."

Her voice stayed steady even though her hands weren’t.

She looked at Ronan again, hoping he might finally say something in her defense. Surely even he could admit she wasn’t guilty of anything.

"You don’t need to explain yourself to me," he said.

For half a breath, she almost felt relief.

"I already know what your family is capable of."

The relief died as fast as it came. He wasn’t defending her. He was telling her that her innocence didn’t matter. Being a Ripley was crime enough.

Naya excused herself before dessert.

She found Ronan later in the hallway outside his study and didn’t bother softening her approach.

"Why did you marry me if you hate me this much?"

He turned, unreadable as ever. "I loved Seraphine."

"I know."

"Your sister took her from me. Then she ran instead of facing what she did."

"I’m not responsible for what Elara did."

"Maybe not." His voice didn’t change. "But your family made you the price of peace. They chose you to stand in her place."

"That’s not fair."

"No," Ronan agreed. "It isn’t. But it’s the arrangement, and you’re not walking away from it because it’s unfair."

"You can’t punish me for something I didn’t do."

He stepped closer, close enough that she had to tilt her head to hold his gaze.

"I can."

Naya’s breath caught somewhere in her throat.

"You carry my name now," he said. "Whether you like it or not, you’re my wife. That comes with certain realities."

She had no answer for that. There wasn’t one.

A servant led her to her room not long after, murmuring something about settling in for the night. Naya barely heard her. The room itself was beautiful, all soft lighting and expensive fabric, but none of it felt like it belonged to her.

She noticed the door had no lock.

She tried it anyway, just to be sure, and found nothing there to turn.

Even this room wasn’t fully hers.

She sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the ring on her finger. That morning she had been Naya Ripley, arguing with servants about a dress that wasn’t hers. Now she was the Lycan King’s wife, and the title felt like a cage dressed up as an honor.

The door opened before she could gather herself.

Ronan stepped inside and closed it behind him.

Naya stood immediately. "What are you doing here?"

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes moved over her, slow and assessing, without a trace of warmth in them.

"Is there something you need?" she asked, hating how unsteady her voice sounded.

He stepped closer. "Whatever else this marriage is," he said, "it still comes with obligations."

Her pulse jumped. She understood exactly what he meant, and every part of her rebelled against it. She didn’t want to be his replacement for Elara. She didn’t want to be touched by a man who looked at her like she was a debt owed to him.

But she also understood, with a sinking certainty, exactly how much power she had in this house.

None.

Ronan’s eyes stayed fixed on hers, cold.

"Strip."