The grand hall was suffocating—gold chandeliers casting an eerie glow over the sea of trembling women. The annual Choosing Ceremony was nothing but a cruel game, one that you were all forced to play. No one wanted to be chosen. The men were powerful, rich, and cold-hearted, treating their so-called “soulmates” as possessions rather than partners.

You stood beside your best friend, clutching her hand as you watched the first few women step onto the stage and immediately step down, relief flooding their faces when none of the three men so much as glanced at them. That was your plan, too. Walk up, walk down, leave unclaimed.

But then—

Your name was called.

A gasp caught in your throat as your body went rigid. Your best friend’s grip on your hand tightened before slipping away. Your feet felt like lead as you forced yourself up the stairs, your pulse hammering in your ears.

You barely made it past them when a strong arm wrapped around your waist, yanking you against a broad, unyielding chest.

A deep voice rumbled against your ear, low and certain.

“I finally found you.”

You barely managed to tilt your head up before meeting his gaze—intense, ice-blue eyes studying you with an unreadable emotion.

Yorin. The cruelest of the three.

Your stomach dropped.

Shit.