Chapter 5 A Bargain Struck

[Nyx]

His blunt honesty caught me off guard, but I recovered quickly, matching his intensity with scorn.

"At least you're honest about your ambition," I sneered. "Though it's pathetic to climb ranks by marrying into them rather than earning a position."

Instead of retreating, Lysander leaned closer, his scent—forest after rainfall, steel, and unmistakable dominance enveloping me.

"Trust me, Nyx," he said with that same calculating smile, "I've earned everything I have. This marriage is just the beginning."

The confidence in his voice felt like a challenge. Like he'd already won a game I didn't know we were playing.

"Now, be a good girl and accept this marriage," he added, his tone suddenly patronizing. "Consider it a reward for my years of loyal service to your father. It's happening whether you throw tantrums or not."

Something snapped inside me. The patronizing tone, the presumption that I would simply comply—it ignited a fury I hadn't felt in years. Before I could think, my palm connected with his cheek in a resounding slap that echoed through the formal receiving room.

"Don't you dare speak to me like I'm a child," I hissed, trembling with rage.

Lysander barely moved with the impact, those amber eyes narrowing dangerously as a red mark bloomed on his cheek. The scent of his surprise mingled with something darker—not anger, but calculation.

Before he could respond, a commotion at the doorway interrupted us. Lilith burst in, her face flushed with emotion. She froze for a split second, taking in the scene—my hand still raised, Lysander's reddening cheek—then rushed forward with undisguised outrage.

"Nyx! What are you doing?" Her voice broke with emotion. "How dare you strike him?"

Lysander stepped back, looking uncomfortable for the first time. "It's fine, Lilith. Your sister and I were just—"

"It's not fine!" Lilith's eyes glistened with tears as she turned on me. "You have no right to treat him like this. Do you even know who he is? What he's done for our pack?"

I stared at my sister, momentarily speechless. The raw emotion in her voice stunned me.

"He's led more successful border missions than any warrior in pack history," she continued, words tumbling out like she'd rehearsed them. "He saved twenty wolves in the northern territory battle last year. He trains every new recruit personally."

Her voice cracked as she added, "And you treat him like he's beneath you, when you're nothing but a drunk who wasted every opportunity Father gave you!"

The venom in her words stung worse than any physical blow. This wasn't my little sister who once followed me everywhere.

I searched for words but found none. Instead, I looked at my tearful sister and remembered ten-year-old Lilith with pigtails and gap-toothed smiles, climbing into my bed during thunderstorms.

Since the incident at sixteen, I had built walls around myself. I stopped joining family dinners, avoided the common areas, barely acknowledged Lilith when we passed in hallways. I'd withdrawn into my own darkness, pushing away anyone who tried to reach me—especially my once-adoring little sister. How many times had she knocked on my door, only for me to pretend I wasn't there? How many invitations had I rejected with cold silence? I'd become a shadow in my own home, bitter and aloof.

When had I convinced myself it was better this way? Was it truly to protect her, or just easier than facing what I'd lost?

"You don't deserve him," Lilith whispered, tears now streaming freely. "I've loved him for years, watched him, supported him... and Father gives you to him like some prize."

The revelation hung heavy in the air, though it wasn't truly a revelation—she'd already made her feelings clear during the breakfast announcement. What shocked me was the depth of her pain, the years of resentment now bubbling to the surface.

"You should be grateful," she said finally, voice dropping to a wounded whisper. "Instead, you treat this marriage like a punishment."

I could have argued. Could have reminded her how our world works—that marriages aren't about love but alliance and power. Could have told her I never asked for Lysander.

Instead, I simply said, "One day you'll understand, Lilith. We're all just pieces on someone else's board."

The silence following my words felt like ice crystallizing in the air. "We're all just pieces on someone else's board." Those eight words hung between us, making Lilith's tears freeze on her cheeks and Lysander's amber eyes narrow with sudden interest.

Father's rage broke the moment, his Alpha scent filling the room like a storm cloud.

"Enough!" he bellowed, the command vibrating through my bones. "You two," his piercing gaze cut between Lysander and me, "Nyx, take Lysander to the west wing. You need time alone to develop this relationship."

His Alpha command settled over my shoulders like physical weight. I felt Sylva bristle inside me, but even she couldn't fight a direct order from our Alpha.

"Yes, Father," I replied through gritted teeth, the words tasting like ash.

I turned without looking at anyone, especially Lilith, whose scent of heartbreak and betrayal was almost overwhelming. The grand hallway stretched before me as I led Lysander away from the receiving room, each step pounding with my anger. His footfalls behind me were steady and measured, irritatingly calm compared to the storm raging inside me.

We walked in silence through the main house, past whispering servants and curious eyes. The distance to my wing of the mansion had never felt so long. When we finally reached the double doors leading to my private quarters, I pushed them open with more force than necessary.

The spacious living area welcomed us with moonlight streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the modern furnishings in silver. This was my sanctuary, and now this stranger—this man who'd agreed to own me—was invading it.

I spun around, my silver hair whipping across my face. "Since my father has ordered us to spend time together, let's find somewhere to talk," I said, my voice low and resistant. "I don't want to waste more time than necessary on this charade."