Spoilt princess.

Isabella

Who was she? And why did she have the same name as me? Worse, strawberries. What were the chances that her scent was the one lingering on Sebastián's shirt?

"Bella," the two men said in unison. Sebastián's eyes lit up in a way I'd never thought possible for anyone but me. It stung, sharper than I cared to admit.

"Can you both stop fighting?" Her voice was melodic yet sharp. "Sebastián, I told you Ivan was only joking. We didn't expect things to escalate this much." She said it with a grin, as if she enjoyed the chaos.

Sebastián's brows furrowed, his tone laced with frustration. "Joking? About your safety? Do you have any idea how worried I was?"

Safety? Worry? For her? A pang of jealousy hit me like a tidal wave. Those words, that concern, everything he had to offer—I wished it was directed at me. But I couldn't focus on the pain. I needed to know what they were talking about.

"I know, and I'm sorry," she replied, her apology laced with something insincere. Then, without missing a beat, she shifted her attention to me. "By the way, is this her?" She pointed at me like I was an exhibit in a gallery.

Sebastián's gaze followed her gesture, landing on me briefly. His eyes, which once held warmth, were now cold and indifferent. "Yeah," he said dryly, the word cutting deeper than I expected.

"Oh, great!" She spun around, her strawberry scent wafting closer as she marched up to me. Before I could react, she grabbed my hand, her grip firm and invasive.

"Her reactions are slow," she muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear, her voice dripping with fake concern.

"She's an omega," Sebastián said flatly, his disdain evident. Instinctively, I ducked my head, shame washing over me. It was one thing to endure his insults in private but another to be humiliated in front of his packmates.

"Oh? That's all right. Even the Luna is an omega," she said, her smile syrupy and condescending.

Sebastián scoffed, the sound sharp and dismissive. "Don't compare her to our Luna. She's just a weak, spoiled princess of the north. She's nothing like her." His words hit me like a slap, each syllable heavier than the last.

"Oh, don't be so harsh," she cooed. "The poor girl is already feeling sad."

I froze. How did she know that? I had perfected the art of keeping my face blank, giving nothing away. Yet somehow, she saw through me.

Ivan, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke up. "Tsk. She's weak, indeed. Definitely not your cup of tea, Sebastián. She can't even tell that Bella is a white witch."

My eyes widened in shock. A witch? Here? In pack territory? I quickly lowered my gaze again, hoping no one noticed my reaction.

"Oh, where are my manners?" She released my hand, her voice turning saccharine. "My name is Catherine Clifford, but my friends call me Bella because I used to dream of being a ballerina." She added the unnecessary explanation with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

Friends? Sebastián was friends with her?

She wants our mate! I don't like her. Natie, my wolf, growled in my head.

Me neither, I responded. The strawberry scent, the way she ogled Sebastián without sparing Ivan a glance—it was all too obvious.

"Oh, hi," I said flatly. I refused to introduce myself to her. She already knew who I was, and my jealousy wouldn't let me play nice.

She tilted her head, clearly expecting more. When I didn't offer anything, she finally asked, "And you are?"

I glanced at Sebastián, my heart aching at his indifference. "The north's spoiled princess," I spat, jerking my hand away from hers.

"Isabella," Sebastián's voice came as a low warning, sending a shiver down my spine.

"Oh, so you're Isabella?" Catherine cut in, her tone bright and fake.

I said nothing, my instincts screaming that something was off about her. When she opened her mouth to continue, I quickly interjected, "Please excuse me," and turned to leave. But as I passed Sebastián, his hand shot out, gripping my arm tightly.

"That's no way to speak to an honored guest of our pack," he growled in my ear.

"I thought I wasn't part of your pack," I shot back, trying to wrench my arm free. "Let me go." My voice wavered as his grip tightened, pain shooting through my arm.

"Isabella—" he started, but Ivan interrupted, laughing.

"Oh, did I say she's not your cup of tea? Actually, I think she's mine. Look at those feisty little fists. I can imagine—" Ivan didn't finish his sentence. Sebastián was on him in seconds, his strides long and deadly. But before he could strike, Catherine stepped between them, her hands outstretched.

"Sebastián, that's enough fighting for one day," she said sweetly.

Sebastián growled but turned back to me, his fury replaced by a taunting smirk. "You know what? How about you take her, Ivan? One enemy and a traitor—a perfect match." He spat the words before storming off, his fist colliding with a nearby tree and making me jump.

Catherine called after him, but he didn't look back. Ivan, still laughing, threw me a wink. "Thanks for the show, northerner. First time I've seen Sebastián lose his cool." He followed after Sebastián, leaving me alone with the strawberry-scented menace.

As I turned to leave, a sharp kick to my lower back sent me sprawling to the ground. Pain shot through me as I tried to get up, but her boot pressed down on my spine, pinning me.

"Bitch, where do you think you're going?" Catherine hissed, her true colors finally showing.

I muffled a scream, the pressure unbearable. "Listen," she leaned down, her voice venomous. "Sebastián is mine. Not you, not your cursed father, no one will take him from me. Just wait. As soon as I turn eighteen and he finds me as his mate, your little marriage will be over."

Her words were cutting, but the last part made me scoff despite the pain. "You're delusional," I spat.

 " What?" She asked, pressing her foot even more onto my back. 

I did not say a word though the pain was intense. I did not need to explain anything Sebastián was my mate, her little act of dominance only fueled my anger and frustration at my current situation with him. 

" You-" she started again but sounds from nearby distracted her.

She quickly removed her foot. " This is not over, " she spat.

"I will be waiting," I said to her, but I didn't wait to see her reaction. I scrambled to my feet, ignoring the pain, and walked away without looking back.