LUCY
Even though I clamored for a simple gathering—even though I pleaded for something quiet and intimate—my parents have gone all out.
Since the first light of dawn, the pack house has been a battlefield of preparation. My ears have been ruefully treated to the sharp clicks of heels against polished floorboards, maids bustling back and forth, voices rising and overlapping, commands echoing through the halls, late invitations being dispatched to those who mattered.
Once, during the early hours of the morning, seeing the giddiness on my mother's face, I actually contemplated calling everything off. I nearly did.
But remembering the pain of last night hardened my resolve all over again.
I want Doyle humiliated.
I want Mina's perfect image torn down.
Yet, as I stand before the full-length mirror in my bedroom, a wave of profound sadness washes over me.
I look at my reflection and see a lie.
I am a beautiful, radiant bride of the Virelan line, but there is nothing real about today. Nothing.
Not the occasion. And certainly not the theme my mother has obsessively curated.
She has already bustled into my room twice, her face flushed with excitement, gisting about how Doyle has been hovering outside, desperate to see me.
She tells me she pushed him away, laughing that "the groom cannot see the bride before the ceremony," before sending him off to prepare.
I imagine his face. Doyle must be reeling.
I hadn't told him a word of my plans after the fire. I hadn't answered his calls either. I simply let the silence simmer.
I would love to see how he takes the shock.
But the truth is, I don't want to look at him at all.
Not yet.
I study myself in the mirror again.
Mother actually listened to me regarding the dress, though she injected her own sense of Alpha luxury into every stitch, making sure what she ordered screamed Virelan royalty.
It is a simple white gown, flowing all the way to my feet like a sundress, but the silk is heavy and rich, catching the sunlight like liquid pearl. It is classy, expensive, and utterly wasted on a funeral masquerading as a wedding.
My blonde hair is crowned with fresh flowers—soft pinks, deep greens, and almond whites woven together in delicate perfection. Matching floral cuffs rest around my wrists, while a heavy bouquet of the same blooms sits upon my vanity.
The makeup is light—Mother knows I dislike too much paint on my face. Just enough to bring out my eyes, enough to make my lips soft and rosy.
I look like a spring goddess. A symbol of life. A symbol of fertility.
While inside, I feel like a hollowed-out tree.
I sigh, unconsciously touching my stomach.
I cannot wait for this to end.
I cannot wait to see my enemies forced to swallow the rot they have sown.
A sharp knock breaks my trance.
My mother pushes open the door, and the moment her eyes fall upon me, they instantly fill with tears.
"It's time, my darling," she whispers.
She rushes over immediately, fussing with the lace around my collar, adjusting a strand of hair that doesn't need adjusting, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles.
"I have never seen anyone so beautiful," she breathes, her own voice thickening. "I am so happy, Lucy. My heart is just... it's overflowing."
I manage a smile. A tight one.
My cheeks ache from forcing it.
And suddenly, guilt crushes my chest.
My parents' hearts are about to be broken.
Just like mine was.
But this is inevitable.
I cannot remain in my father's land as a mistress to a man who shares a bed with my "sister."
I cannot become a ghost in my own life.
So I follow Mother out.
We descend the grand staircase and walk around the main Alpha residence, heading toward the backyard.
From there, we take the private path through the forest—the one reserved only for the Alpha King and his immediate family.
The Sacred Grounds await us.
As we walk, I see ribbons tied around ancient oaks, lanterns hanging from branches, flowers decorating the path.
Someone has worked hard. Too hard.
Hot tears sting my eyes.
One slips free despite my efforts, and Mother nudges me with a soft, knowing laugh.
"I cried on my wedding day too," she says, squeezing my arm. "It's the nerves, Lucy. It's the joy."
The words almost destroy me. Because there is no joy waiting for me at the end of this trail.
Only ashes.
Finally, the forest opens. And my breath catches.
Gods.
Father has performed a miracle.
The Sacred Grounds are packed.
Hectares of land are filled with standing pack members and visiting dignitaries. Noble families. Warriors. Elders.
Everyone has come.
I even spot a reputable official from Solthera and wonder how Father managed to bring him here so quickly.
There isn't a single empty space.
And then...
My gaze finds him.
Doyle.
Standing at the center. Surrounded by his family, friends, admirers. Always the social butterfly.
His eyes light up the moment he sees me.
He looks genuinely happy. Victorious, even.
The brightness in his face falters when I don't answer his beautiful smile with one of mine.
Foolish whore. I nearly scoff.
But as I approach, he recovers quickly. Confidence returns to his features.
He steps forward, smiling once again, and reaches out to kiss me.
The stinking hell?
I turn my head. His lips meet nothing but air.
Doyle freezes. His brows furrow. His eyes question me.
Meanwhile, laughter ripples through the crowd.
They think I am shy. They think it is a game.
Only if they knew.
I look past his shoulder. And there she is.
Mina. Watching us with a serene, supportive smile, playing the role of devoted best friend to perfection.
How does she even sleep at night?
How?
I just don't understand.
Seeing her there—
Knowing what I know—
Makes me cold.
The resolve in my heart hardens into iron.
Then she winks. Actually winks. And gives me a thumbs up.
I see red.
I want to claw out her eyes. I want to tear her apart. Wolfless or not.
"Let the blessed couple come forward..." the officiating elder announces.
Doyle and I move to the center of the union ground.
The scent of incense hangs heavily in the air. Ancient magic hums beneath my feet.
The elder steps forward to begin the rite.
But before he can utter the first blessing, I raise my hand.
A hush falls over the Sacred Grounds. Thousands of eyes turn toward me.
"Speak, daughter of the blessed Alpha," the elder says.
I turn, and I look Doyle Thornille straight in the eye.
My voice comes out clear. Strong.
It rings across the hectares of silent witnesses.
"Reject me."