The Night Before the Marriage Alliance

I wasted five years of my life chasing Veyron Hollowstone, Alpha of the Bloodmoon Pack.

On the very eve we were supposed to complete our mating ceremony, I overheard a conversation between him and his Beta.

"Veyron, are you really going to mate Seraphine?"

I froze just around the corner of the corridor, my fingers gripping the hem of my dress. Veyron’s low, detached voice drifted through the ajar door.

"Sera is just the most convenient cover. The Silvercrown Council has been breathing down my neck lately. Once this political marriage is finalized, no one will keep watching me and Ophelia."

The Beta lowered his voice. "But she’s been obsessed with you for five years. The whole pack knows she thinks you’re her fated mate. Aren’t you afraid she’ll find out?"

Veyron let out a short, mocking scoff. "She’s weak. Obedient. Easy to control. Once she’s marked, the Council shuts up and Ophelia stays safe. As for the Luna title... I’ll give it to the woman who actually deserves it. She’s already carrying my pup."

My fingers went slack.

The moonsilver cufflinks I had custom-made for him slipped from my grasp, hitting the stone floor with a sharp, brittle crack.

Like bone splitting.

Inside the room, the voices abruptly ceased.

I turned and walked away. I didn’t even register missing the edge of the stairs. The world simply tilted. I pitched backward, my spine slamming hard against the stone railing before my head cracked against the lower platform.

Right before my vision faded to black, my last sight was the faint, silver mating mark on my chest—seeping thin lines of blood, as if something had violently ripped it open.

When I finally woke, Iliana was gripping my hand, her eyes rimmed with red. "Sera. Thank the Goddess you’re awake."

I tried to speak, but my throat was raw. "What happened?"

"You fell from the West Tower stairs. Your head and back were busted open—the healers were working on you all night." She paused, studying my face with nervous hesitation. "Do you... still remember Veyron?"

I frowned. The name was familiar. I knew exactly who he was—the man I was supposed to bind my soul to tomorrow night. I knew I had spent the last five years revolving my entire existence around him.

But the heavy, suffocating emotions that usually accompanied his name—the aching obsession, the constant humiliation—were just... gone. It felt as though someone had carved them out of my chest, leaving only a hollow, peaceful void behind.

"I remember him," I said, calmly pulling my hand back. "That’s all."

Iliana froze, opening her mouth to reply, but the sudden crash of a silver-feathered messenger bird shattering through the window interrupted her. It fluttered onto my bed.

My mentor Cassian’s voice projected from the enchanted feather, sharp and urgent. "Sera. Return to the Silvercrown Pack immediately. A new bloodline alliance has been arranged. The transport portal will open in seven days. Do not delay."

I didn’t hesitate. "Send word to Cassian. I’m coming back."

Iliana’s eyes widened in horror. "But your mating ceremony with Veyron is tomorrow!"

"Cancel it." I threw off the blanket. The abrupt movement tugged painfully at the stitches in my back, making my hands shake, but I forced myself out of bed anyway. "If the Council made a new arrangement, I accept it."

She stared at me like I had lost my mind. Turning, she snatched a thick, dark-blue journal from the bedside cabinet and slammed it onto my lap.

"You seriously don't care anymore?" She flipped the pages open aggressively.

The parchment was packed with my handwriting. The first time I gifted him a moonlight dagger and he threw it back. The thirty-seventh dinner invitation he ignored. The nine-hundred-and-ninety-ninth confession... followed by a pathetic line I had penned at the bottom:

If he just looks back at me once, I’ll never leave.

I skimmed two pages. My chest felt a faint twinge, but mostly, it felt like I was reading a tragic story about some other pathetic girl. I shut the leather cover and pushed it away.

"Burn it," I said flatly. "In seven days, I’m marrying into the Dragon Clan."

At that exact moment, the bedroom door was kicked open.

Veyron stood in the doorway, the chill of the night wind still clinging to his black coat. His gaze dropped to the journal on my bed, and a cruel, knowing smirk touched his lips.

"What game are you playing at now?" he sneered. "Trying to make me chase you?"

I looked at him. He looked like a complete stranger. "Get out."

He ignored me entirely. In three long strides, he was towering over my bed, his dark eyes locking onto mine. "Tomorrow night, you are coming with me to the Hunt Gala. Ophelia is pregnant. She needs several high-grade calming potions brewed by the guild. Her status is sensitive, and she can’t be seen there alone. You will escort her, and it will keep the rumors down."

Iliana let out a bark of incredulous laughter. "You want your own fiancée to play bodyguard for your mistress?"

Veyron’s expression darkened. He didn't even spare Iliana a glance. "I wasn't asking."

"I’m not going," I enunciated clearly, holding his gaze. "She’s carrying your bastard. That is not my problem."

The silence in the room became deadly. It was as if I had slapped him. His jaw clenched, and his aura flared with sudden hostility. "Sera. Do not test my patience."

"Patience?" I braced a hand against the mattress and stood up to face him. "You seemed to have plenty of it when you were using me."

Veyron’s eyes widened slightly, caught completely off guard. "You were eavesdropping."

"I heard every word." I offered him a thin, hollow smile. "Including the part where I'm just weak, obedient, and easy to control."

A muscle ticked in his jaw. When he spoke again, his voice was absolute ice. "Since you heard, you know exactly what your duty is. Complete the alliance. It’s what is best for everyone."

"Not for me."

The second the words left my lips, his hand shot out, his fingers locking around my wrist like a steel vise. He yanked me roughly toward the door. The scabbed wound on my back tore open instantly, a hot rush of blood soaking through my bandages.

I thrashed against his grip. "Let go of me!"

"You do not get to refuse—"

"Veyron!"

A fragile, trembling voice broke from the hallway.

Ophelia stood clutching the doorframe, her other hand resting protectively over the slight swell of her stomach. Her face was deathly pale. "Please, don’t fight because of me, Miss Marchwood... I can just stay home. Really. I don't want anyone calling me a shameless, title-less Omega anymore..."

Veyron released me instantly, rushing to her side to steady her. "What are you doing out of bed? I told you to rest."

The sudden release of his grip sent me stumbling backward. My lower back slammed viciously into the edge of the wooden table. Agony spiked straight to the bone. My legs gave out, and I collapsed to the floor.

Iliana lunged to catch me. Seeing the fresh blood blossoming across the back of my gown, her voice cracked. "Are you insane?! She’s severely injured!"

Ophelia covered her face, sobbing beautifully. "It’s all my fault... If I hadn’t gotten pregnant, you two wouldn’t be fighting. Miss Marchwood, please, if you need to be angry at someone, take it out on me. Don’t be mad at Veyron..."

"Shut up." I was trembling from the blinding pain in my spine, but I forced my chin up to glare at her. "What are you doing in my room, playing the victim?"

Veyron whipped his head around. His eyes were murderous. "Enough."

Iliana stepped between us. "No, you stop! You pamper an outsider while you drag your own injured mate around until she bleeds! What kind of Alpha does that make you?"

Ophelia let out a pathetic whimper, shrinking against Veyron’s chest.

The next second, Veyron closed the distance between us.

Before I could even drag myself off the floor, his palm cracked across my face.

The vicious impact snapped my head to the side. A high-pitched ringing pierced my ears, and the metallic taste of copper instantly flooded my mouth. My cheek burned with a numb, stinging heat. When I touched my fingers to my split lip, they came back smeared with crimson.

Iliana screamed, shoving at his chest, but Veyron simply stood over me, his voice devoid of a single ounce of warmth.

"Eight p.m. the night after tomorrow. The auction hall."

He delivered the words like a death sentence.

"Do not make me wait."

Without another word, he scooped Ophelia into his arms and carried her out, never looking back.

I sat alone on the cold stone floor.

Slowly, I wiped the blood from my chin. I reached over, tore that pathetic confession journal clean in half, and hurled it straight into the roaring fireplace.

The flames swallowed the pages instantly.

I stared into the fire, my jaw set so hard my teeth ached.

Seven days.

In seven days, I would be gone from this hell for good.