Three days have slipped by so quickly. And now, there is just an hour left before I become someone's wife.
"You look so beautiful," my mother says, but nothing eases my nerves right now.
"Thank you."
This gown was picked by my mother since I wanted nothing to do with this wedding. It is simple but breathtaking, the kind of gown I might have chosen myself if I had been excited about this day. It isn't heavy, the fabric flows freely with every breath I take, the lace hugging my shoulders before spilling down into soft layers.
When my mother leaves the room to get something, Vivian stays behind with me.
"I can't believe you're about to be someone's wife. You can't even handle being a friend, let alone a wife," she says, forcing a small laugh even as her eyes glisten. She blinks rapidly, careful not to ruin her makeup. "Just make sure you call me often. Even if it's just to complain about how ugly your husband is."
I chuckle softly, even though my throat tightens. We hug, holding on like it's the last time, until my mother steps back into the room.
"It's finally time," she says gently. She comes to stand in front of me and places the veil over my head, covering my face with it.
~~~
The car ride feels like a blur. We drive through the night, the road lit with lanterns that look like falling stars, guiding me toward the place where my future waits.
As I begin to walk down the aisle, my hand subconsciously grips my father's arm. The guests present are no more than thirty, most of them faces I recognize—people my mother insisted on inviting. Their whispers fade into the background as my pulse grows louder in my ears.
My gaze lifts, eager to know the man I am about to marry, to see if he is old, ugly, or—God forbid—fat. But the man waiting for me is none of those.
And then his eyes meet mine.
Recognition slams into me so hard I almost stumble. My breath catches in my throat.
It's him.
The man from the club.
His black hair looks as though he has run a hand through it carelessly, yet it falls in a way that makes him look effortlessly sharp. His suit is tailored perfectly, hugging broad shoulders and a lean frame with an ease that screams confidence. Tattoos curl just above the collar of his shirt, teasing at skin I shouldn't be staring at.
But it's his eyes that hold me still—dark, dangerous, the kind of eyes that warn you to stay away even as they draw you in. Eyes I have not been able to forget since that night.
And now, here he stands. My husband-to-be.
We finally reach the altar, and my father places my hand into the man's—a bigger, steadier hand that clasps mine with a quiet dominance. Even beneath the veil, my nerves roar through me, every breath shallow, every heartbeat louder than the last.
The priest clears his throat, his voice carrying easily through the small gathering. "We are gathered here tonight to witness the joining of these two souls in marriage." His words are ceremonial, rehearsed, but they make my spine straighten anyway.
The vows are exchanged, simple but binding. When it is his turn to speak, his voice is low and deep, carrying with it a command that makes the fine hairs at the back of my neck rise. He promises things I cannot name—protection, loyalty—but not once does the word love leave his lips.
Then, his hand lifts. With slow deliberation, he brushes the veil back from my face, revealing me fully to him, and for the briefest moment, the entire world is silent. His eyes burn into mine, unreadable, and I forget how to breathe.
The rings come next. His fingers slide the band onto mine, the metal cool and heavy, final. I do the same for him, though my hands tremble as I try to steady the simple gold circle on his finger.
The priest smiles, almost warmly. "By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride."
My palms are damp, and he knows it—he hasn't let go of my hand. My heart spikes as he leans down toward me, lips close enough that I feel the heat of his breath. I brace myself for the inevitable kiss, but instead, he tilts just slightly, his mouth brushing my cheek instead.
His whisper is meant for me alone. "You might be pretty, but you are not the type of woman I'd ever love to kiss." he murmurs, his tone smooth as silk, sharp as a blade.
The sting is immediate, sharp enough to lodge in my chest. I had thought—naively—that recognizing him, remembering his small act of unexpected kindness three days ago, meant something. That maybe this wouldn't be a prison, but a chance. Maybe, just maybe, this could work.
But maybe I had been a fool.
He leans back, angelic smile gracing his lips, as though he has just sealed his vows with a kiss. To the guests, it looks perfect. To me, it feels like a warning.
Why would he say that to me? Why is he even marrying me?!
After our marriage has been officially sealed on paper, we walk down the aisle as a couple now. The guests rise to their feet, watching us with eyes that weigh and measure, as though I am an offering laid at the Alpha's feet.
Unlike human weddings, werewolf unions are never followed by grand feasts or lingering celebrations. Once vows are spoken, the couple is left alone—to bond, to mark, to claim. But there will be nothing to claim here. Nothing to celebrate. Not in this farce of a marriage.
We are not even mates. And while he is Alpha of the largest and most powerful pack—his name carrying both reverence and fear—I am nothing more than the daughter of a family with no leadership, no real standing in our own pack. My presence at his side is not respect, but mockery.
I force a smile, looping my hand gently around his arm as we walk past the rows of watching faces. Yet beneath the veil of music and soft clapping, whispers thread through the air, sharp and merciless.
"Such a waste of power… the Alpha deserved better."
"Look at her—pretty face, but no wolf. She'll never stand at his side in battle."
"She's fragile. How can a Luna lead when she can't even shift?"
The words slice deeper than they should. I have heard them endlessly before, but today, on the day I am bound to a man I barely know, they strike like claws across my heart. To them, I am unworthy—not fit to walk beside an Alpha, not strong enough to bear his weight, not wolf enough to be his mate.