The wicked alpha’s mute bride: Train me Master, choose me

Olivia's gaze lingered on the vials resting in her drawer. Should she listen to the man who had made her life a living hell? Or protect another man who would likely make it worse?

Would she ever taste freedom? Her fingers closed around the vials. One was a bright red—unmistakably poison. The other, green, promised to suppress Devon's inner beast forever, aiding Premier Rodrigo in his coup.

She didn't know Rodrigo well, but all she wanted was to be free of Devon. With that thought, she chose the green vial, tucking it carefully into the folds of her dress. The red one she hid securely under the wardrobe.

It was time to start her day serving Devon.

Olivia hurried to his chamber. He lay on his bed, eyes locking onto hers as soon as she entered, as if he'd been waiting.

She bowed respectfully, hands clasped. His expression hardened at the gesture. She understood now—he resented being reminded of their bond, of her status as his mate, and her inability to speak.

"Prepare my bathwater," he ordered. She bowed again and turned to the adjoining room. Carefully, she set the temperature, laid out his bathing supplies, and hung his towel within reach.

Returning to him, she gestured toward the bathroom and bowed again.

"Can't you at least try to speak for once?" His voice cut through the room, sharp with frustration.

"M… m… ah," she stammered, her throat locking up.

Devon let out a harsh sigh and raised a hand, stopping her. "You sound pathetic. Enough." His words were ice, slicing through whatever courage she had left. He pushed himself off the bed, running a hand through his hair.

"Go make my breakfast," he ordered. No room for argument.

She turned and walked toward the kitchen, each step heavier than the last. The vial pressed against her skin beneath the fabric of her dress, a silent reminder of the choice she had yet to make.

Would he make her taste the food?

Her fingers trembled as she worked, mind spinning. If he did… what then? Would it kill her instantly? Could she survive it? Without her wolf, she had no way of knowing.

That, too, was his fault.

She should have turned on her twenty-first birthday like the others. Should have felt the rush of power, the connection to something bigger than herself. But she never would. He had taken that from her with an injection, stripping away the one thing that could have made her strong.

Why couldn't he have waited? Just until the doctors had finished, just until the suppressants were safe? But no—he didn't care about her, didn't care about her wolf.

So why should she care about his life?

Still, doubt gnawed at her. What if he forced her to taste it? What if, without her wolf, the poison worked differently on her? What if—

No. No more thinking. She set the plate down in front of him, her expression blank, body tense. He leaned back in his chair, watching her too closely, too knowingly.

Seconds stretched. Then—

"What are you waiting for?" Devon's voice cut through the thick air. His eyes narrowed.

"Taste the food."

Olivia shook her head, gesturing vehemently. "I could never poison you."

"I don't care. Taste the food."

Reluctantly, Olivia took two spoonfuls of mashed potatoes.

"Drink the water."

She sipped from his glass, knowing he wouldn't want to share hers.

"Get me another glass. Get me my bottle of wine," he ordered brusquely.

A surge of anger flared within her. He suspected her of poisoning him, yet he commanded her to taste the food and drink the water. Did he find her so repulsive now? If he wanted her dead, then she had no choice but to kill him first.

He could stand to lose some of his pride when his wolf was gone.

Grabbing his wine bottle, Olivia discreetly added the contents of the green vial before sealing it back up.

Returning to Devon, she was met with an icy stare. "What took you so long?" he snapped.

"I wasn't sure what you'd like," Olivia gestured nervously. He waved her away dismissively.

Retreating to her room, guilt gnawed at Olivia. Maybe she shouldn't have done it. No, she definitely shouldn't have.

Pacing back and forth, she prayed nothing would happen to him. She didn't want him to suffer—or worse.

After what felt like an eternity, Olivia returned quietly to check on him. He had finished his meal and was leisurely sipping the wine. Trying to remain unnoticed, she was startled when he called her name.

"Olivia," he said softly, "don't hide. Come and take the dishes away."

She hurried to clear the plates, wanting desperately to ask if he had enjoyed the meal.

"Did... you... like... the... food?" she managed to stammer out.

He turned to look at her, and unexpectedly, he smiled. A genuine smile, devoid of his usual mockery.

"You just spoke," he remarked, surprise flickering across his face.

"It happens occasionally," Olivia gestured awkwardly. His smile faded, replaced by a contemplative expression.

"Have you trained today?" he asked abruptly.

She shook her head, silently explaining that she had waited for him to finish eating.

He nodded once she finished arranging everything. "When you're done with that, you can go and begin your training."

Olivia acknowledged his directive with a nod before quietly leaving the room. Devon poured himself more wine, noting there wasn't much left in the bottle before he finished it off. He stepped out onto the training grounds where Olivia was vigorously practicing her routines. Observing her dedication, a slight smile played on his lips.

Olivia looked up at the platform just in time to catch him smiling at her. It scared her. Had her father given her some kind of love potion to serve him? Why else would Devon be smiling at her? Shaking off the thought, Olivia disregarded his presence and focused intently on her training. Despite her attempts to concentrate, she couldn't help but steal glances at Devon, who eventually approached her and offered a few tips.

As he spoke, Olivia noticed he seemed drowsy. "Are you okay?" she gestured, concern lacing her voice.

"Yes, I think I drank too much," Devon replied with a faint chuckle.

She nodded, urging him gently, "You should go and rest."

Devon nodded in agreement and turned away, making his way steadily back to the house. Olivia watched him go, her mind racing with worry. What would she do if he started feeling unwell? He would certainly suspect her—and what she had done.

Returning to her training, Olivia tried to bury the guilt that weighed heavily on her. Sweat poured down her face as she pushed herself harder, hoping to rid herself of the overwhelming remorse. Lost in her exertions, she suddenly felt a presence behind her. Before she could react, a voice spoke from behind.

"I know what you did."

Startled, Olivia's eyes widened in fear and surprise at the unexpected accusation.

Her heart pounded hard, all the blood in her body rushing to her head.