*Storm POV*

I didn't know what hurt the most: The consistent strokes of hard leather whips tearing into my frail body or the profanities they yelled at me while they scourged my skin. Evenly used to tell me something. She said the world was unfair, it doesn't do you good because you did good or evil because you did bad. It's an unjust world we lived in. And now I realize just how right she was. I didn't know what I did to my family, but somehow they despised me. The men continued lashing my naked back while I cried in pain. It gave my step brothers some kind of joy . . . some kind of relief. I couldn't understand it. I knew they hated me but what did I do wrong? How did I offend them? We were supposed to be families,but my father had made sure that didn't happen.

But what was even more confusing was why the king chose me as his mate. Staring at my reflection in the giant mirror in front of me, I could barely recognise myself. I looked the same, yes but my eyes were different. When I stared at them it wasn't storm Lockwood that stared back.

“Stay put,” my step mother Maureen said to me, dragging my waist to the side. “And remember, no crying! I don't want to have to redo that make-up.”

She didn't have to worry. I had already ruled out crying because it didn't feel like any tears were left. I always spend them all back in those chambers, crying unduly like my eyeballs were about pop out of my sockets but the men didn't care. So whenever I tried to cry the rest of the day, I couldn't. It was the most awful thing in the world; wanting to cry but not being able to.

“Well she looks beautiful. Isn't that right, boys?” From the corner of my eyes I could see my step brothers standing by my ajar door chanting and laughing, mocking me as I stood helpless in front of the mirror. Still no tears. When my eyes returned to my reflection, I realized one thing. They were right, I did look beautiful, as much as I didn't want to accept it.

The gown. I looked down at the white flowery clothing covering my body. Where had he gotten this gown? Perhaps it was it's radiating flamboyance that decieved me and my punishers that I was the one who possessed the beauty. It fitted me almost to perfection, the shoulders were puffed and it had sleeves that did a great job of hiding the inflictions he had given to me. Of course the back too, covered and tightened with a zip. The fabric hugging my thin waist almost so that I felt naked from my pelvis up to my breasts. The most stunning thing about this gown though was the mermaid tail A-line that was firm on my hips but then fell gloriously to the ground and swept the floor. Any other day I would have loved this dress and be happy. Especially my sister. Evenly would have. . . if she was still alive.

I squinted my eyes, forcing the memories not to creep into my thoughts. But my mind as feeble as it was couldn't stop memories that strong and that painful. I failed.

There was so much to remember but very little that I wanted to. I remembered the loud crying, the howling, the fighting. It was a peaceful day at home, the sun was shining and birds were chirping, but suddenly the sound of hooves approaching the gates could be heard. My father had a visit from the dreadful lycan king and was caught off guard as they saw the king and his pack, it wasn't much of a battle anyway but my father fought and so did his pack. I remembered the fire, the trees cracking as their branches and leaves lit up in flames. Our quarries scurrying out of the woods in such a phenomenal speed. But most of all, I remember his face — the first time I saw it. He didn't look like the unforgiving gruesome lycan king as my father once told me. He was almost like a man. His face, a bewitching mirror. But the moment he attacked, I was forced to believe my sister's stories and to my bewilderment, this man became a ghastly baneful venom tearing through every single one of my father's pack like they were nothing until he had my sister in his hands.

I was on the floor, tears pouring out of my eyes like rain as I begged him for my sister's life. I screamed and I gnawed, crying out to his humongous self towering over me. Evenly struggled for breath under his grasp, but she didn't take her eyes off me and I was scared that I would watch her die. Then the lycan king let her go, my eyes widened and a wave of relief swept through me. I got on my knees and hurried to my sister. But just when I was about to grab her in my arms, he pierced his dagger claws through her heart. Blood from her mouth splashed all over my face as I froze in shock, eyes widened.

I screamed as loud as I could, watching Evenlys body hit the floor and then I ran t—

“Bloody hell, can you stop it with the overreacting, child!” my step mother snapped me back into the present. “I don't have the strength to be of emotional support right now, get it together.” she mocked.

Get it together? I thought. Surely she isn't being serious.

“You better have a smile on your face when he comes to see you,” she said as she started to leave. “I don't want any more complaints from your end.” She banged the door loudly and I heard her bolt it from the other side.

Sometimes I wondered to myself why he killed her and spared me. Perhaps it was guilt that fed me with this thoughts or maybe I just simply missed my sister. When my eyes started to tear up once again, I felt a little bit of relief. I could cry again and maybe the pain I felt inside wasn't going to kill me just yet. But still, I couldn't stop thinking why he had chosen me.