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Chapter 1 Scout’s POV “Where is she?” Alpha Nixon’s voice boomed across the lawn. It hit the crowd like a physical blow, silencing the restless whispers. I stood near the back, watching members of both our pack and his shift uncomfortably. Every eye darted toward the empty altar. My sister, Simone, was late. Fifteen minutes late. My gaze flickered over the sea of guests, hunting for a familiar face. Simone, my mate, was supposed to be managing the final logistics. He had stepped away toward the parking area nearly an hour ago, promising to return in five minutes. I checked my phone for the tenth time. Nothing. No response to my texts, no missed calls. My gut twisted into a tight, hard knot. “Miss Cranberry.” I jumped, stumbling back and catching the edge of a decorative vase. It wobbled, then tipped, shattering against the stone path. I didn't even look down at the shards. Alpha Nixon stood barely two feet away, his presence suffocating. His dark suit was immaculate, but his jaw muscle flexed in a rhythmic, jagged motion. “Where is your sister?” he asked. I swallowed hard, my throat feeling like it was lined with sandpaper. “She is just finishing her preparations, Alpha. You know how these things go.” His gaze narrowed, turning his eyes into cold, dark stones. He checked his watch, the movement sharp and impatient. “The ceremony was set for nine. It is now nine-fifteen.” My skin crawled. I felt the weight of his irritation, a low-frequency hum of dominance that made me want to bolt. “I will go check on her immediately.” I didn't wait for his permission. I gathered my skirts and turned, breaking into a brisk walk that quickly turned into a run. I didn't stop until I reached the main house. “Simone? We’re behind schedule. You need to be out there,” I called out, pushing through the front door. The house was tomb-quiet. I rushed up the stairs and burst into Simone’s bedroom. “Are you even dressed yet? The guests are - ” I stopped dead. Simone was gone. My stepmother, Henley, stood by the far wall. She looked like a ghost, her skin pale and her eyes fixed on something invisible in the middle of the room. A single sheet of paper fluttered in her trembling hand. I shut the door, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Mother? Where is she?” Henley didn't speak. She just held out the paper. I recognized the handwriting instantly. The oversized loops, the lazy cross-bars on the t’s. I scanned the lines. Dearest Mother and Father, By the time you read this, I will be far from here. I cannot marry Alpha Nixon when my heart belongs to another. I know this will cause problems, but I cannot live a lie. Simone and I have been planning this for weeks. We are going somewhere no one will find us. Please forgive me, but I had to choose love. I read it twice. The words felt like nonsense, a bad dream I hadn’t woken up from yet. I looked toward the door. Simone’s wedding gown hung on the hook, tags still attached. Her shoes were tucked underneath, tissue paper still bunched in the toes. My phone was in my hand before I realized I was dialing Simone. “Scout.” He answered on the first ring. He didn't sound panicked. He sounded finished. “Tell me you aren’t with her,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Tell me this is a joke.” Silence. Just the steady hum of the line. “Simone, please. Tell me my sister didn’t run off with you.” “I’m sorry,” he said. It was soft, almost gentle. It was the last thing I wanted to hear. “I never wanted to hurt you.” The room swayed. I grabbed the back of a chair, my knuckles turning white. “What about us? What happens now?” “There is no us, Scout.” The bluntness of his statement hit me harder than a physical strike. “What are you talking about?” “I’m rejecting the bond. Simone and I... this is what I want. It’s what I’ve always wanted.” The pain was instantaneous. It wasn't just heartbreak; it was a visceral tearing sensation in my chest. I felt the mate bond stretch, thin and frayed, and then snap. The sound of it seemed to ring in my ears. I doubled over, clutching my sternum, gasping for air that wouldn't come. “The pack,” I choked out, my teeth grit tight. “Alpha Nixon is going to destroy us.” “I’m just a sentinel, Scout. My life belongs to me.” “You selfish coward,” I spat, though my voice was weak. “They’ll slaughter everyone because of this.” “We’re already miles away. Do not try to find us.” The line went dead. I stared at the black screen, waiting for him to call back, to tell me he was joking. Nothing happened. “Scout.” Henley’s voice was hollow. “Look outside.” I stumbled toward the window. Below, the garden was in chaos. Guests were standing, chairs overturned. Groups of wolves were whispering in panicked clusters. Alpha Nixon stood near the altar, his posture rigid enough to snap, his fists balled at his sides. “When he realizes,” Henley whispered. Her voice cracked. “He will kill us all.” “We’ll explain,” I said, the words feeling thin and useless even as I spoke them. “We’ll tell him we didn’t know.” Henley let out a harsh, jagged laugh. “Do you think he cares about excuses? He came here with contracts and gifts. Our daughter humiliated him in front of two packs. Our father will be executed for this, Scout. Pack law is absolute. Breach of contract means death.” I felt the blood drain from my face. “He wouldn’t kill everyone. The children - ” “He will see us as a blight,” she snapped, walking over to the wedding dress. She lifted it off the hook. Her hands were shaking violently. “We have to fix this.” “What are you doing?” “You are the same height. The same build.” She looked at me, her eyes wild. “You are going to walk down that aisle.” “That is insane. He’s seen her before. He’ll know.” “They’ve barely met, and always at a distance with your father hovering,” Henley said, shoving the heavy veil into my hands. “The lace is thick. He won’t look closely. He just wants his bride.” “This won’t work.” “He will kill our father,” she hissed, grabbing my shoulders. “He will kill the children. Are you really going to stand there and let that happen because you’re afraid?” A heavy thud echoed from the hallway. Someone was at the door. “Mrs. Cranberry?” Nixon’s voice was right outside. It sounded like grinding stone. “I need to see my bride. Now.” Henley grabbed the dress and thrust it toward my chest. “Do it. Now.” I looked at the white lace, then at the door, and finally at my stepmother’s desperate face. “Help me,” I whispered. Chapter 2 Scout’s POV “Eyes down,” Henley whispered. Her grip on my shoulder was tight. “Don’t say a word. If he talks to you, just nod. Keep it simple.” A heavy fist struck the wood of the door again. The frame groaned. “Wait,” Henley called out. Her voice was too loud, a little strained. “She needs another moment.” She turned to me. Her fingers worked fast, frantic, pulling the blue bridesmaid dress over my head. The fabric pooled around my ankles. I stood there, shivering in my undergarments, until she shoved the heavy white gown over my arms. The silk felt cold and stiff against my skin. She pulled the laces tight until my breath hitched, then smoothed the lace veil over my face. I felt like a porcelain doll someone else was controlling. Henley swung the door open. My heart slammed against my ribs. I knew he could hear it. “Finally,” Nixon said. He stood in the hallway, looking impatient. “Are you ready?” I nodded. It was what Henley told me to do. “You look beautiful,” he said. His voice dropped, losing that sharp edge. “I know the crowds are a lot. Everything will be fine once this is done.” He didn't know anything. Henley stepped between us. She grabbed my hand, squeezing it until my knuckles ached. “Just first-day nerves, Alpha. You know how it is.” “Of course.” Nixon held out his arm. The gesture was formal, heavy with expectation. “Shall we?” “Give us a second,” Henley said. She blocked his path. “I need to fix her veil. It’s crooked.” Nixon looked at us. His eyes were dark and steady. He stared at the lace covering my face for a long time, like he was trying to look through the weave to find the truth. My stomach twisted. I was certain he could smell the sweat or sense the lie radiating off me. Then, he dipped his chin. “Fine. I will wait outside.” As he turned, Henley added, “She isn’t going anywhere.” Nixon glanced back, a thin, ghost of a smile on his lips. “Good.” The door shut. The silence was loud. Henley exhaled, her face pale. “He’s suspicious,” I whispered. “You just have to get to the altar,” she said. She grabbed her kit and dabbed powder under my eyes. She kept glancing at the door. “Keep your voice thin if you have to speak. Simone sounds like a bird. Keep that veil low. Don’t lift it for anyone.” My throat was bone-dry. “What if they see? What if my father looks at me and sees the truth?” “Your father is too busy counting his coin to look at your face. Nobody would suspect this. It’s too stupid for them to even imagine.” She stepped back, checked my posture, and nodded. “It’s time. We can’t wait any longer.” Henley cracked the door open and scanned the hallway. She grabbed my hand and led me out. My boots clicked against the stone floor. The wedding dress was heavy, dragging at my heels. We reached the stone path leading to the garden. The air outside was cold, smelling of pine and damp earth. Rows of chairs filled the lawn. A low, constant hum of voices rose from the crowd. “Ready?” she asked. I wasn't. I never would be. I nodded anyway. We walked down the aisle. People turned. They stared. I kept my head down, focusing on the dirt between the stone pavers. Every step felt like wading through deep water. The whispers grew louder. “She’s beautiful,” a woman said. “Radiant,” another added. “Simone always had that grace,” someone else said. I flinched. The name felt like a slap. I reached the front. Nixon stood there, waiting. His hair was slicked back, and the smell of pine was stronger now, mixed with something sharp and expensive. Henley squeezed my hand one last time before letting go. My palms were slick. I rested my hand on Nixon’s sleeve, and he must have felt me trembling. An Elder stood beside him. She was the pack healer, her silver braids woven with polished stones. She looked at us with pale, clear eyes. “We are here to join two souls,” she said. Her voice carried across the lawn, clear and steady. “Alpha Nixon of the Brown Reed Pack and Simone of the NeonViper Pack have chosen to bond.” The crowd shifted. Choosing a mate wasn’t just a political marriage. It was a request to the goddess to forge a bond where there was none. The Elder held out a golden cup. “Drink. Open your soul to your chosen.” Nixon took a sip. His jaw muscles tightened. He handed the cup to me. I lifted the lace just enough to touch the rim to my lips. The liquid was cold, then burned like fire as it slid down my throat. The Elder began to chant. She pulled a thick, red cord from her belt and began to weave it around our joined hands. She moved in a complicated, rhythmic pattern. “By this binding, your spirits reach across the divide,” she said. “What is not fated, you call into being with will and love.” The cord turned hot. A sharp pressure blossomed in the center of my chest. Something was fluttering against my ribs, frantic and wild. I looked up through the veil. Nixon’s eyes were wide. He felt it too. Panic surged through me. This wasn't part of the plan. I was supposed to act, to bluff, and then find a way out later. A chosen bond was hard to break. If this grew stronger, he would see my thoughts. He would see everything. “The bond takes root,” the Elder said. She sounded pleased. “Now, seal this union.” The crowd roared. People climbed to their feet. Nixon turned to me, his hands reaching for the edge of my veil. “No,” I whispered. The sound was swallowed by the cheering. I grabbed the lace, holding it tight. Nixon laughed, thinking I was playing. “Shy? It’s okay. We have time.” “She’s just nervous!” someone yelled from the back. More laughter followed. I looked at Henley. She stood in the crowd, watching me with a blank, neutral face. She didn't look like an accomplice. She didn't look like she cared. Nixon’s hands were firm. He didn't use force, but he didn't stop. “I’m here,” he said softly. “I won’t hurt you.” His voice was a promise that made my stomach turn. I pulled back, but his fingers caught the fabric. He pulled upward. The veil slid off my head. The cheering died. The silence that followed was absolute. Nixon’s face shifted. He looked confused, then shocked, then absolutely cold. His eyes locked onto mine, and the warmth of the bond suddenly felt like a chain around my neck. “You,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper that cut through the silence like a blade. “You are not my bride.” Chapter 3 "You are not my bride." Nixon’s voice cut through the wedding hall like a razor. The air turned frigid. My pulse hammered against my throat as I stood frozen, the heavy silk veil still clutched in his hands. A moment ago, the room had hummed with the soft music of celebration. Now, the silence was heavy enough to choke on. I looked up at him. The man who had been my fated partner only minutes ago now peered down at me with raw, undisguised loathing. "Scout?" A man in the front row stood up. "Where is Simone? Why is she wearing the veil?" The murmurs rippled outward, growing into a harsh, frantic hum. The pack members were shifting in their seats, their faces tight with confusion and the first flickers of aggression. "Deception," Nixon said. He didn't raise his voice, yet the word hit every corner of the room. "Is this how your pack greets an Alpha? With a stunt?" I tried to swallow, but my throat was tight. The bond between us - the invisible tether that had felt like a warm promise just earlier - now vibrated with a sickening, cold tension. It felt like a frayed rope holding up a collapsing bridge. "I can explain," I managed to choke out. Nixon took a step toward me. His shadow swallowed my frame, making me feel small and exposed. "Start talking. Where is my bride?" Before I could form a defense, my stepmother, Henley, shoved past a group of wedding guests. Her face was pale, her eyes wide with what looked like genuine terror. She reached me in two strides and swung her hand, striking my cheek with a sickening crack. My head snapped to the side. My ears rang with the force of the blow. "You foolish girl," Henley shrieked. "What have you done to your sister?" I looked at her, blinking back tears of shock. My cheek burned, but the sting in my heart was worse. This was the same woman who had pinned this veil to my hair not thirty minutes ago. The same woman who had pushed me into the dressing room, whispering that I was the only one who could save our pack from the Brown Reed wolves. "Mother, stop," I whispered, swaying on my feet. "You told me - " She slapped me again. My knees buckled, and for a second, the room tilted sideways. "I told you nothing but to stay in your place!" she screamed, her voice cracking with a performance of pure, unadulterated outrage. "Where is Simone?" I stared at her, my vision blurring. She was acting. She was putting on a play for the entire hall, and she was doing it with terrifying precision. Nixon reached out, his fingers locking firmly around Henley’s wrist before she could wind up for a third hit. He held her steady, his gaze narrowing as he studied her face. "You really didn't know?" Nixon asked. Henley let out a ragged sob and collapsed to her knees, clinging to his sleeve. "I had no idea, Alpha. I left the room for a moment to check the arrangements. When I returned, she was already dressed. I thought it was my daughter." She looked up at him, her eyes glistening with rehearsed tears. "Scouthas always been jealous of her sister's standing. She must have drugged her or hidden her away." "Jealousy," Nixon repeated, his voice dangerously low. I opened my mouth to shout, to tell him about the letters and the hidden plans, but the words died as the side door kicked open. Simone stumbled into the hall. The room went deathly still. Simone looked like she had been dragged through a briar patch. A dark, ugly bruise bloomed across her cheek, and her lip was split, a thin line of red tracking down her chin. Her dress was torn at the shoulder, and she limped with every step she took toward the altar. "Mother, don't waste your tears on her," Simone gasped, her voice trembling. Nixon released Henley and turned his full, predatory attention toward Simone. "What happened to you?" "She came into my room," Simone said, pointing a shaking finger at me. "She wouldn't listen. When I told her this was my marriage, she lashed out. She hit me until I went black." I felt the blood drain from my face. "That is not true." "I woke up in the storage closet," Simone continued, her eyes wide and haunted as she looked at the crowd. "I had to break the lock to get out. Look at me, Nixon. Does this look like a prank?" The hall exploded. Shouts for justice turned into roars of anger. People were surging forward, their faces twisted into masks of hatred. I looked for a friendly face - someone, anyone, who might remember who I was - but all I saw was a mob. I turned to my father. He stood near the wall, his face gray. He looked at me as if I were a stranger who had just burned down his house. "Did you do this, Scout?" he asked. His voice wasn't angry. It was disappointed. "I didn't," I said, though my voice sounded hollow even to me. "I was told... the instructions were..." "She's lying," Simone sobbed, clutching her mother’s arm. "She couldn't stand the thought of me marrying an Alpha while she was forced to settle for a mere sentinel." Nixon moved back to me. His eyes were cold, flat, and devoid of the connection we had shared earlier. He grabbed my arm, his grip hard enough to leave bruises. "You stole the life of the bride," he said, his voice a low, vibrating growl. "And you nearly started a war in my halls." "You have to listen to me," I pleaded, but my pulse was racing, and the doubt was starting to creep into my own mind. Had I been so hurt by the rejection that I lost control? Was I truly capable of this? "There is nothing left to hear," Nixon said, pulling me toward the exit. "Where are you keeping the key to that closet?" Chapter 4 Simone’s POV "Do you honestly think he would choose a broken thing like you over me?" I leaned against the stone pillar at the back of the hall, my breath hitching as the words left my lips. The crowd was a blur of expensive fabric and shocked faces. Scout stood at the altar, her skin the color of old parchment. She looked like a ghost haunting my wedding dress. Every gasp from the guests hit me like a physical rush. I wanted to laugh. I wanted to scream. I settled for pressing a hand to my ribs, feeling the sharp sting of the bruises I had given myself. I had spent an hour in the bathroom, slamming my own cheek into the vanity until the skin bruised purple. I had ripped the lace of the dress with a pair of sewing scissors. I had messed up my hair until I looked like a victim of a struggle. It was perfect. Scout stared at me, her eyes wide and wet. She was trembling. Good. She needed to feel the weight of every day she had existed, every day she had stolen from my mother. People whispered that I was the villain. They didn't know the first thing about it. They didn't know the sound of my mother’s sobbing when Father first brought that woman home. That woman was a pregnant Omega, a "fated mate" who arrived to tear a family apart. I was five years old, and suddenly I was told to call a stranger Mother. I watched my real mother, the Luna of this pack, become a piece of furniture in her own home. I remember the day it happened. Father was so proud of his new mate. My mother held me, her hands shaking, trying to hide the fact that her world had just ended. She had been the perfect Luna. She had given him an heir. She had kept the pack running for years. None of that meant anything once the Moon Goddess decided to drop a new mate into his lap. Everyone told us to move on. They told us to smile. They said we should welcome the interloper and the baby she carried. I hated them for it. I prayed every night that the baby would disappear. I prayed that the childbirth would go wrong. I wanted them gone. Scout lived. Her mother didn't last much longer, but Scout survived. She was small, delicate, with those wide eyes that made everyone want to protect her. Even when she was a toddler, she stole the light. I would stand in the corner with my mother while everyone crowded around my father to see his new, precious child. I waited for her to show her true colors. I wanted her to be a Luna, just so I could watch her fail. But she was an Omega, just like her mother. Weak. Soft. She had no place in the inner circle of the pack. I assumed she would eventually just fade away. She never did. That was the worst part. She had this annoying, quiet confidence. She walked around like she had every right to be there. She didn't bow when she saw me. She didn't apologize for existing. People loved her for it. They said she was sweet, approachable, natural. It made my skin crawl. I tried to break her. I spread rumors about her mother. I made sure she wasn't invited to the best parties. I told her exactly what she was: an interloper’s daughter, a mistake. She just blinked, smiled, and kept walking. She didn't even try to fight back, which only made me hate her more. Then she found Simone. Simone was a sentinel. Strong, quiet, and devoted. He was her fated mate. When I saw them together, I felt like my chest was being crushed. She had the bond. She had the destiny. I had nothing but my name. I was eighteen. I had no mate. I watched them hold hands and trade looks, and I decided then and there that I would take him. It was so easy. Simone was just a man, and men were simple. I didn't need to do much. A few late-night encounters, a touch on his arm in the hallway, a whisper that Scout would never understand him the way I could. He didn't stand a chance. The sex was fine. He was good at it. But the real reward was the look on Scout’s face when she realized her precious mate bond didn't mean anything. I loved knowing I had something that belonged to her. But he was just a sentinel. He didn't give me the power I needed. Then Alpha Nixon arrived. He was the leader of Brown Reed. His pack was a mountain of iron and blood. If I married him, I wouldn't just be the daughter of a disgraced Luna. I would be a force to be reckoned with. And for some reason, he wanted a bride from our pack. I watched Scout sway on her feet, the silence in the room becoming heavy and thick. She finally opened her mouth, her voice trembling like a leaf in the wind. "Simone, tell me the truth, did you really do all this just to ruin my life?" Chapter 5 Simone’s POV “Did you honestly think I would let you steal my life without a fight?” The words hung in the air, sharp enough to cut. I stood at the edge of the dais, my breath hitching as I surveyed the crowd. Everyone looked at me with wide, pitying eyes. My sister, Scout, stood before the altar in my dress. It was a beautiful gown, silk and lace, but on her, it looked like a stolen prize. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic rhythm that had nothing to do with the physical pain I had carefully manufactured. I adjusted my posture, favoring my left leg. Every inch of my body ached from where I had slammed myself into the brick wall of the pantry, but the dull throb was worth it. Father pushed through the throng of pack members. His face was pale, his eyes darting between me and the altar. He reached out, his fingers twitching as if he wanted to pull Scout away from the judgment of the crowd. “Wait,” Father said. His voice cracked. “There must be some misunderstanding. Scout would never do this.” I let out a shaky, jagged breath. I leaned into Mother, who stood like a stone pillar at my side. She smelled of sharp perfume and cold ambition. “Would she not, Father?” I whispered, loud enough for those nearby to catch. Mother stepped forward, her hand gripping my shoulder with enough force to bruise. She glared at him. “Look at your daughter, Alpha. Look at her face. Look at the dress she ruined. Do you really want to defend the girl who did this to her own blood?” Father looked at me. He saw the purple blooming on my cheekbone. He saw the torn lace at my collar. He hesitated, his jaw working as he tried to find words. The silence stretched thin, punctuated only by the low, angry growls rising from the back of the room. “Simone,” he said, his voice dropping to a plea. “Are you certain about this?” I let a single tear slide down my cheek. It felt cold against my skin. I made sure my lip trembled, just the right amount to look fragile. “Are you seriously questioning her right now?” Mother snapped. Her voice dripped with pure vitriol. “She is your legitimate daughter. She is the one who was beaten and locked away while this girl stood here waiting to take her place. You are going to choose the omega who did this?” The murmurs in the hall turned into a roar. Several of the pack elders shook their heads, their expressions hardening. Father looked as if he had been slapped. He shrank back, his shoulders slumped under the weight of their collective disdain. I had won. He could not protect her, not while I was standing here as the living, breathing evidence of her supposed betrayal. I took a shaky step toward Scout. Each movement was deliberate. I stopped a few feet from her, letting my limp be painfully obvious. Scout looked small. Her eyes were glassy, her mouth slightly parted as if she were trying to breathe underwater. “What did I do to deserve this, little sister?” I asked. My voice broke, cracking perfectly at the end. I thought about the years of being second best. I thought about the way Father looked at her mother, the way he ignored the rules to keep her around. A surge of genuine, hot resentment washed over me, and it made the next part easy. “I loved you,” I said, sobbing now. I let my hands drop to my sides. “I tried so hard to be a good sister. Even when I knew where you came from, I welcomed you. I even asked you to be my bridesmaid. I wanted you to share this day with me.” I felt the crowd shifting. The women in the front row were dabbing their eyes. One of them let out a soft, sympathetic cry. “I trusted you,” I continued. I took another step closer, my gaze locked on Scout’s horrified face. “I thought we were finally past the lies.” My knees buckled. It was a practiced motion, a graceful surrender to the gravity of my grief. I felt the air leave my lungs, and for a second, the world tilted sideways. I was falling, but I was not afraid. Mother was there, her arms wrapping around me before I could hit the floor. “Simone!” she screamed. The sound echoed off the high rafters. “Somebody help! She is fainting!” I let my head loll back. I closed my eyes, slipping into the dark comfort of the lie. Through my eyelashes, I caught one last glimpse of Scout. She looked shattered. She looked like a ghost standing in the middle of a celebration. She stood there, frozen and mute, while the world turned against her. I let a small, dark smile touch my lips, hidden from everyone but the cold, hard floor. “You finally see it, don't you, Scout?” Chapter 6 Alpha Nixon "Did you really think I wouldn't notice the difference the moment I touched your skin?" The words left my lips before I could stop them, cutting through the stunned silence of the ceremony hall. I stood at the altar, my hand still locked in hers, the ceremonial cord binding our wrists together. A moment ago, I had been the happiest Alpha in the world, believing the Moon Goddess had finally gifted me a mate to secure my legacy before my mother’s final days. Now, I was a laughingstock. Scout’s face drained of all color. She stared up at me, her mouth slightly parted, eyes wide with a frantic, pulsing terror that slammed into my senses through the bond. It wasn't the triumphant smirk of a schemer. It was the look of someone trapped in a nightmare they didn't understand. "I... I don't know what you mean," she whispered. Her voice was thin, trembling like a leaf in a gale. I let out a harsh, jagged breath. Across the aisle, the chaos was absolute. Simone, the woman I was actually meant to marry, had been dragged away after collapsing from a head injury. Her mother’s wails still echoed against the vaulted stone ceilings. The guests were a sea of shifting bodies and angry murmurs. My own warriors were already on their feet, their hands resting on the hilts of their blades, waiting for a single word from me to paint this floor red. "You took her place," I snarled, pulling the binding cord taut. I wanted to see her flinch. I wanted to see the mask slip. "You knocked your sister unconscious, locked her in a closet, and walked down that aisle in her wedding dress. Do you take me for a fool?" Scout’s hands shook against mine. Through the bond, I felt a sickening wave of vertigo and genuine bewilderment. There was no trace of calculated ambition. There was only fear - a sharp, stinging cold that crawled up my spine. Stop it, I commanded silently, trying to wall off my own mind from hers. I won't let you manipulate me. "I didn't," she breathed, her gaze darting to the crowd as if looking for an exit that didn't exist. "I was told to stand here. My father... he told me it was my turn to serve the pack." "Your father?" I barked a bitter laugh. The Alpha of NeonViper, a man whose spine seemed to have turned to water, took a hesitant step forward. He looked like he was watching his own funeral procession. "Alpha Nixon, please," the older man rasped, his face pale and sweating. "We did not know. This was not the plan. There must be some mistake." "The mistake was coming to this pathetic excuse for a pack," I spat. I looked back at Scout. She was hyperventilating now, the bond between us screaming with her distress. Every time I felt a flicker of sympathy, I fed it into a furnace of rage. I would not be played. I would not be the Alpha who fell for a parlor trick. "She is an Omega," one of my guards shouted from the back of the hall. "She has defiled the ceremony! Kill her!" 👉 (When you open the App, it will automatically jump to the book.)