MARKED FOR PRETEND - Chapter 42: Chapter 42
You are reading MARKED FOR PRETEND, Chapter 42: Chapter 42. Read more chapters of MARKED FOR PRETEND.
The gown fit too well.
Dark green silk, soft as breath, draped over her body like it was made for her which it was. They had taken her measurements while she was unconscious. While she was nothing more than a prophecy in human skin.
She stood before the mirror in a chamber lit by golden sconces. Her hair had been braided down her back, threaded with gold and green. Her mark glowed faintly just above her heart, pulsing like it remembered something her body couldn’t forget.
Kaden.
Her breath hitched. She hadn’t said his name aloud since she arrived here. Not once.
Not because she didn’t want to — but because saying it felt dangerous. Like it would unravel her.
Does he think I ran?
Her chest ached with the thought.
He hadn’t stopped her that night. He hadn’t followed. But he had marked her, chosen her even if only for pretend. Even if only under pressure.
But the way he’d looked at her before she vanished… it hadn’t felt pretend.
She pressed a palm against the mark. It glowed warmer under her touch.
⸻
The woman entered without knocking. Tall, severe, dressed in crimson robes.
“You wear your bloodline well,” she said, circling Chelsea like she was inspecting a statue. “Velaria will kneel before you.”
Chelsea didn’t respond.
“You were never meant to be beneath anyone,” the woman continued. “Not even an Alpha. Especially not one who couldn’t protect you.”
Chelsea flinched.
They didn’t say Kaden’s name. But they knew.
“Tonight,” the woman said, “the council will recognize your return. You are not a wolf, not fully. You are Krippa — and that name commands more than howls.”
She handed Chelsea a pair of golden cuffs.
“Put these on. You’ll be addressed as Lady Krippa going forward.”
Chelsea stared at them. They were delicate. Ornate. Beautiful.
But they were still cuffs.
⸻
Later, in the great stone hall, they bowed to her.
They called her “Lady.”
They offered her a throne made of obsidian and lies.
And all Chelsea could think was:
This isn’t home. This isn’t what I want.
She didn’t want titles. Or robes. Or power wrapped in chains.
She wanted wind on her face.
She wanted her wolf fully awake.
She wanted Kaden.
Not the one who scowled. But the one who looked at her like he saw her — even when she was nothing more than a rumor wrapped in a dress.
She stood before the throne but didn’t sit.
They called her powerful.
They called her chosen.
But none of it mattered.
Because power without him felt empty.
⸻
That night, in the silence of her chamber, she whispered his name.
“Kaden…”
Something stirred in the air. A flicker of energy. A voice caught in magic.
But it faded too fast.
And Chelsea pressed her hand to the window, heart aching with one truth:
She didn’t belong here.
Not because they couldn’t give her the world —
But because the only place she wanted to be… was in his arms.
Dark green silk, soft as breath, draped over her body like it was made for her which it was. They had taken her measurements while she was unconscious. While she was nothing more than a prophecy in human skin.
She stood before the mirror in a chamber lit by golden sconces. Her hair had been braided down her back, threaded with gold and green. Her mark glowed faintly just above her heart, pulsing like it remembered something her body couldn’t forget.
Kaden.
Her breath hitched. She hadn’t said his name aloud since she arrived here. Not once.
Not because she didn’t want to — but because saying it felt dangerous. Like it would unravel her.
Does he think I ran?
Her chest ached with the thought.
He hadn’t stopped her that night. He hadn’t followed. But he had marked her, chosen her even if only for pretend. Even if only under pressure.
But the way he’d looked at her before she vanished… it hadn’t felt pretend.
She pressed a palm against the mark. It glowed warmer under her touch.
⸻
The woman entered without knocking. Tall, severe, dressed in crimson robes.
“You wear your bloodline well,” she said, circling Chelsea like she was inspecting a statue. “Velaria will kneel before you.”
Chelsea didn’t respond.
“You were never meant to be beneath anyone,” the woman continued. “Not even an Alpha. Especially not one who couldn’t protect you.”
Chelsea flinched.
They didn’t say Kaden’s name. But they knew.
“Tonight,” the woman said, “the council will recognize your return. You are not a wolf, not fully. You are Krippa — and that name commands more than howls.”
She handed Chelsea a pair of golden cuffs.
“Put these on. You’ll be addressed as Lady Krippa going forward.”
Chelsea stared at them. They were delicate. Ornate. Beautiful.
But they were still cuffs.
⸻
Later, in the great stone hall, they bowed to her.
They called her “Lady.”
They offered her a throne made of obsidian and lies.
And all Chelsea could think was:
This isn’t home. This isn’t what I want.
She didn’t want titles. Or robes. Or power wrapped in chains.
She wanted wind on her face.
She wanted her wolf fully awake.
She wanted Kaden.
Not the one who scowled. But the one who looked at her like he saw her — even when she was nothing more than a rumor wrapped in a dress.
She stood before the throne but didn’t sit.
They called her powerful.
They called her chosen.
But none of it mattered.
Because power without him felt empty.
⸻
That night, in the silence of her chamber, she whispered his name.
“Kaden…”
Something stirred in the air. A flicker of energy. A voice caught in magic.
But it faded too fast.
And Chelsea pressed her hand to the window, heart aching with one truth:
She didn’t belong here.
Not because they couldn’t give her the world —
But because the only place she wanted to be… was in his arms.
End of MARKED FOR PRETEND Chapter 42. Continue reading Chapter 43 or return to MARKED FOR PRETEND book page.