Pushing my luck.

Calla wasn’t sure which was worse, the silence in the Black River estate or the sound of the dining hall door creaking open as she stepped into it, every eye turning toward her like she was a stray squirrel that wandered into a wolf den.

Dominic sat at the head of the long table, sharp and elegant in a black shirt. His jaw was tight, and his expression was unreadable, and his arms crossed like he was preparing for a war or a particularly painful dinner with a wife he didn’t ask for.

The rest of the pack members either avoided her eyes or glared like she’d personally stepped on their tail.

Calla cleared her throat and sat at the far end of the table, where a place was set. The seat felt colder than the stares.

“Evening,” she said cheerily, trying to pierce the fog of tension.

No one answered. Even the cutlery seemed offended by her presence.

“Lovely weather we’re having,” she added. “Perfect for brooding inside a gothic mansion.”

Still nothing. She sighed and picked up her spoon, prepared to eat her soup and her pride quietly.

Dominic’s eyes burned into her. He hadn’t looked away since she entered. Finally, he said, “You’re late.”

Calla looked up, blinking. “Oh no. The horror. I was delayed by my nerves and the sixteen gowns I had to choose from, none of which screamed , Welcome to your cold new prison.’”

A few forks paused mid-air. One wolf even snorted.

Dominic’s mouth twitched, like he couldn’t decide between frowning or smirking. “Try again. With less sarcasm.”

Calla folded her hands in her lap. “Fine. I apologize for being late. I was busy pacing around and wondering if the rumors are true that I’ll be fed to a river beast if I misbehave.”

Someone choked on their drink.

Dominic leaned forward slightly. “This isn’t a joke, Calla.”

“No, it’s a marriage,” she shot back. “A very romantic one where the groom disappears and his brother swoops in like a broody hawk with legal documents.”

He stood up and the room went dead silent. Calla watched him, her heart thumping but she didn't shake.

“Walk with me,” Dominic ordered.

“Oh goody,” she said, rising from her seat. “Is this where I get thrown in the dungeon?”

“You’ll wish it was the dungeon,” he muttered, walking ahead.

She followed him through the halls. “You say the most reassuring things, Dominic, which really puts a girl at ease.”

They stopped in a dimly lit corridor with thick windows and nobody in sight. Dominic suddenly turned to her.

“You do not speak to me like that. Not in front of my pack, not in private. Not at all.”

Calla crossed her arms. “You want a silent doll? You should’ve married one. Oh wait, you couldn’t, because Theo ran.”

His eyes darkened. “Watch it.”

“Why?” she snapped. “You’ve already got your leash around my neck. I signed your stupid bond so I’m stuck here. And now I’m supposed to smile and curtsey every time you grace me with a glare?”

“You’re pushing your luck.”

She took a bold step closer. “Good. Someone has to.”

For a moment, they just stared, the tension between them crackling. Then Dominic’s jaw clenched. “Stay in your wing and eat quietly. Speak only when necessary.”

Calla tilted her head. “Is this the warm welcome your pack was raving about? Should I expect a gift basket too?”

He turned and stormed off without another word.

Later that night, Calla lay in her oversized bed, watching the shadows dance on the ceiling. The wind outside howled like wolves in mourning. Or maybe she was being dramatic. Hard not to be, when your marriage resembled a hostage situation with fur.

She got up quietly, her heart pounding.

One step. Two steps, and bare feet on the cold stone floors. The air was thick with the scent of pine, moss, and something wild she couldn’t name.

She reached the front doors and slowly pulled them open. Cool air rushed in. She bolted.

Her nightdress billowed behind her as she sprinted across the lawn and into the woods, dodging trees, and her breaths coming in sharp gasps.

But she hadn’t gone far before a low growl made her freeze.

A blur tackled her to the ground, and it turned out to be Dominic.

He had her pinned, his weight heavy over her with his chest heaving, and eyes glowing faintly in the dark.

“I said,” he growled, “stay in your wing.”

She glared up at him, looking furious. “And I said I wasn’t a prisoner.”

“You’re my wife.”

“By paperwork. Not by choice.”

His hands were on either side of her, caging her in. His face hovered close enough that she could see the flecks of gold in his eyes.

“You have no idea what would’ve happened if you crossed the boundary. There are things in this forest that don’t care about contracts or names.”

Her voice wobbled. “I was just trying to breathe.”

He froze for a second. Something flickered in his eyes.

Then he stood and yanked her to her feet. “Next time you try to run, I won’t chase you. I’ll let the woods eat you.”

“Kind,” she muttered.

“Go inside.”

Calla stomped back toward the estate, the dirt clinging to her nightdress.

That night, she dreamed of chains disguised as wedding rings.

The next morning, Calla sat in her private sitting room sipping tea. Harper’s message had arrived tucked inside a false book on the shelf.

Calla,

Theo didn’t leave you. He was taken. I can’t say more now but be careful. Trust no one.

-H

Her hands trembled, Theo didn’t leave. This was the second letter she was receiving from her best friend.

A knock pulled her out of her thoughts.

“Come in,” she said, hiding the note.

A maid entered with a tray. “The Alpha wants you to attend today’s council meeting.”

Calla blinked. “Me? Why?”

“He said it’s time the pack saw their Luna.”

Oh, how charming.

Thirty minutes later, Calla walked into the council chamber in a modest dress and boots, her hair pulled into a sleek braid. She looked every bit the reluctant royalty.

The council stared at her like she was an alien.

Dominic gestured to a chair beside him. “Sit.”

She sat. Not because he told her to, but because her knees were betraying her.

Discussion began about land disputes, border tension and rogue sightings. Boring, until it wasn’t.

“Perhaps, if the Luna took her role more seriously,” one councilman muttered.

Calla smiled sweetly. “Perhaps if the council respected that being thrust into a marriage against one’s will isn’t exactly motivational.”

Dominic’s brow rose, but he said nothing.

“I’m learning,” she continued. “Though I’ll admit, this room could use less ego and more coffee.”

Another council member stifled a laugh.

By the end of the meeting, even Dominic looked… impressed?

Later that day, in the kitchen, Calla tried to help herself to a pear tart. Big mistake.

The knife slipped.

“Ow!” she gasped, clutching her bleeding hand.

Footsteps thundered in. “Calla!” it was Dominic's voice.

He crossed the kitchen in two strides, grabbing her wrist, while quickly inspecting the cut.

“You idiot,” he muttered.

“Nice to see you too.”

He tore a cloth from a drawer, pressing it gently. His fingers were firm, and felt warm.

Calla stared at him, especially at how carefully he bandaged her. At the little furrow between his brows.

Their eyes met, as his thumb brushed her pulse.

For a moment, everything stopped, but then Dominic pulled back like he’d been shocked.

“Next time, don’t play with knives.”

“Next time, don’t storm kitchens like you’re in a bad soap opera.”

He paused. “You’re not what I expected.”

“Neither are you.”

He left without another word.

Calla stared at the closed door.

If Theo didn’t leave her… what really happened?

And why was she starting to feel safer in the arms of the man who trapped her?