After a night of passion and a broken heart, Sophia thought marrying Bright was the best way out: a marriage without love, commitments, or ties. But lies come at a price, and Sophia and Bright must pay it. When danger lurks and the past resurfaces, Sophia and Bright, will have to face their true feelings. Will danger bring them together, or will it destroy them first?
View MoreSophia
This isn't my wedding, and yet, I have to look happier than the bride herself.
The members and family of the Moonlight pack were celebrating James wedding, the Alpha and my brother. He had found his mate. The scent of expensive wine floated in the air, tempting me to drown my sorrows. Everyone was chatting cheerfully. Some people clapped for my brother and his wife as they danced on the luxurious dance floor.
With a glass of champagne in hand I walked through the crowd, wearing a smile that seemed just right.
"Hey, Sophie!" my aunt called out from a distance. She wore a gorgeous dress, her face flushed with joy. "What a wonderful moment, right?! Look at them! They make such a great couple, and they're so young!"
I quickly approached her and clinked my glass against hers. The crisp sound rang pleasantly in the lively atmosphere. "Auntie, you look just the same as always." I tilted my head back and drank the champagne in one go.
The bubbles burst happily on my tongue, leaving a brief numbing sensation, washing away my troubles for a moment.
Just then, I saw the Gamma's daughter. She was wearing a pink tulle dress, walking toward me with an affected stride. Her walk was so forced. But still, at that moment, I greeted her warmly with a big smile. "Hey, girl! You look stunning today!"
"Oh, stop it," she replied, blushing, a flicker of pride in her eyes. I grabbed another glass of wine from a passing waiter’s tray and said with a smile, "Don't be so modest, beauty."
I drank that glass in one go as well. The alcohol coursed through my veins, and I felt my face warm up. I forced an even bigger smile and started engaging in small talk with every guest.
"Sophie, stop drinking."
James grabbed my hand just as I took another glass of wine. He stared at me, a glimmer of concern in his eyes.
I looked at him, brushing it off. Drinking wouldn’t harm me.
"Come on, James. It’s your big day. I'm just happy for you," I tried to pull my hand away.
He wanted to say something, but he didn’t. In the end, he let out a sigh and slowly released my hand. "Alright, but don’t overdo it. It’s like alcohol is your best company at night."
"Of course." I quickly turned my head and hurried to lose myself in the crowd. I couldn’t bear looking into his eyes, nor could I stay with anyone for too long, fearing they would see through my fake happiness.
I, the princess of the Moonlight pack, had been in love with Dante, the prince of the Black Forest pack —now Alpha— for eighteen long years. Everyone knew we had been inseparable since childhood, and everyone knew I was obsessed with him. But he married someone else.
It was just a broken heart. What was the big deal? The world didn’t stop. But why did it feel like mine did?
I heard my brother's loud laughter again. He and his wife held each other tightly on the dance floor, their happiness radiating so intensely it seemed to overflow. He looked so happy. I envied his happiness. He had found true love in his wife.
I thought I had found it in a man too. But what did I get? The shattered pieces of my heart were on the floor.
Dante.
Damn name. His memory haunted me. I felt like a fool.
I spent years believing Dante would one day marry me. I thought our story would end in love. But he married a submissive woman. A woman was completely opposite to me. He said my nature was too impulsive to be a proper Luna. He got married. He had responsibilities as an Alpha and made a decision. He replaced me. He destroyed me.
The guests around me raised their glasses to toast the happy couple. The tight knot in my chest squeezed, and I felt nauseous. People looked at me and smiled. I returned a fake smile.
"Well, well, what do we have here? The Alpha’s little sister. Why the long face? You look like you’re not having such a great time," he said sarcastically.
Bright was not on my list of people I wanted to run into tonight.
I turned to face him, holding my champagne glass.
He stood beside me, his blond hair gleaming under the lights, a few messy strands falling casually over his forehead. His black suit fit his tall, muscular frame perfectly. He wore a lazy smirk as if everything in the world was under his control and at his mercy.
And yet, he was everything I had always despised arrogant and a notorious womanizer.
I didn’t know why my brother chose him as Beta or why they became such close friends. But my brother always said that people didn’t really know Bright. But guys like him were easy to read. There was no need to know him better. My brother was right. I admit that Bright was capable of being part of the pack, but tonight, his presence annoyed me.
"What are you doing talking to me, Bright? Why aren’t you out there seducing some girl at the party? Has no one caught your eye tonight? You’ve got plenty to choose from."
He grinned, flashing his perfect white teeth.
"I did, but then I saw you standing here all alone. You’re ruining the pack’s mood with that face. Who died? Instead of a party, it looks like you’re at a funeral. I just couldn’t resist cheering you up."
Idiot.
"Your presence isn’t exactly uplifting, in case you were wondering."
I finished the rest of my champagne and ordered another glass. Bright watched me.
"That’s your sixth drink tonight. If you keep going, you’ll embarrass yourself for being drunk, Sophia."
"How did he know it’s my sixth drink? Has he been watching me?" But I didn’t want to waste time on him.
"I'm not going to get drunk. Leave me alone. And go to hell, Bright."
"Sweetheart, I’m already there," he smirked arrogantly.
I took a deep breath.
Bright left me alone.
With a frustrated sigh, I finished my drink and walked toward the hotel ballroom balcony. I was tired. Truly tired. I thought the fresh air would help. I grabbed another glass of champagne from a waiter’s tray and drank it eagerly.
Time passed. The laughter, music, and noise from the guests overwhelmed me. I wanted to leave the party. I lost count of how much I had drunk, but I didn’t regret it. The alcohol numbed my pain, and that was all that mattered.
I headed for the exit. My head was spinning.
Bright was right. If I stayed, I would make a fool of myself. I needed to lie down and sleep. The night was over for me. But I took a glass of wine with me as I left.
I stumbled at the hallway and managed to open the door before the dizziness got worse.
Wanted nothing more than to throw myself onto the bed. But when I did, I was in for a surprise.
A scream went out.
A woman shot up from the bed, with wine streaming down her delicate face. She looked so, scandalized.
"Are you crazy?! Look what you’ve done!"
"Shit," I muttered.
I had walked into the wrong room.
"You really know how to ruin my romantic evening, Sophia."
Bright stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped only in a loose towel.
He took in the scene, and his eyes met mine.
BrightWe were standing in front of Sophia’s parents’ house.I knew why they had invited us. They hadn’t said it outright, but it was obvious: they wanted to protect her, to bring her back to a place they considered safe, surrounded by family. And I couldn’t blame them. After the attack, anyone would want their daughter under their roof, watched over. Yet inside me there was an almost instinctive rejection. I couldn’t allow her to go back to depending on others. It had to be me who protected her.Her mother took her upstairs with some trivial excuse about fabrics and curtains. I stayed downstairs with her father. I knew this moment would come.We sat in the living room, a couple of glasses on the table, the clock ticking with an unbearable rhythm. Her father watched me calmly, as if weighing every move, every gesture.“You’re worried,” he finally said, with that deep voice that always commanded respect.“I am,” I replied bluntly. “We can’t pretend what happened at the house was an iso
SophiaMom and Dad had invited Bright and me over for dinner. In fact, the whole pack would be there for a delicious meal, but in the guest hall. Bright’s parents, my brother and his wife, and my parents would have a private dinner in the dining room. They wanted to talk to us. Mom and Dad were worried about what had happened a few days ago at home, and they would probably suggest that we move back into their house. James was still living there with his wife, so now that things with Dad had improved a little, it was likely they wanted us to stay here again.The air in my parents’ house had always carried a different weight. The same scent of old wood, freshly brewed coffee, the flowers my mother placed in the vases every morning. But this time, when I stepped through the door with Bright, I felt that air was heavier, thick with a silence that had no way of being relieved.My mother welcomed me with a warm hug and immediately pulled me upstairs, saying she had to show me something in t
BrightThe change in Sophia was almost imperceptible at first. A faint grimace of discomfort on her face, a hand pressing against the table with more force than necessary. But I know her too well. Since I accepted being her guardian —her partner— I’ve learned to read her in every tiny detail. And that day, the moment I crossed the hallway and saw her in the kitchen, I knew something was wrong.I saw her place a hand over her belly, and my heart stopped for an instant. Fear —the one I always try to keep locked away— hit me with the force of a full-on strike. I couldn’t afford to lose control, not in front of her. But the anxiety spread like poison in my blood.“Sophia…” I said calmly, though inside I was being eaten alive by urgency.She tried to straighten, to feign normalcy. I know her. That rushed “I’m fine” was proof of the opposite. I stepped closer and brushed a strand of hair from her face, searching her eyes. And there it was, the truth: the pain, the fear, and that fragility s
SophiaThe pain began as a sharp prick, brief, just a reminder that something inside me was changing. At first, I didn’t pay much attention to it. I had learned to live with the ups and downs of my body since I found out about the pregnancy, the dizziness, the fatigue, that feeling of fragility that never matched the image I always wanted to project. But this time was different.It was a pain that didn’t fade away.I was in the kitchen, trying to make some herbal tea, when a sudden wave of heat rushed to my head, and I had to grip the counter to keep from falling. The air felt heavy, and every breath slipped away halfway, as if my lungs refused to cooperate. Fear, silent and relentless, slid into my chest and settled there.“Please… not now,” I whispered under my breath, as if I could bargain with my own body.My hand went instinctively to my belly, protective. I still hadn’t had the courage to say out loud the word that scared me the most: child. My child. And yet, with every stab of
BrightFrom the hallway, with my back against the wall and my arms crossed, I listened to every word coming out of her father’s mouth. My jaw tightened with each pause, with every late confession. I couldn’t see his face, but I imagined it, and for the first time in a long while, I didn’t associate it with authority or harshness, but with something broken.What I could see was Sophia, sitting on that couch, carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. Even though I wasn’t inside, every vibration of her voice cut through me. She had that fragility she only showed on rare occasions, like when society’s expectations weighed too heavily on her, or when the pain of the past caught up with her.At first, I hadn’t wanted to go in. I knew it was a moment between father and daughter. But when I heard the name Sabrina and the mention of another death under the same circumstances, I felt my blood boil. The air grew heavy. It wasn’t just pain coursing through me, it was rage. Rage because h
Sophia The silence in the room was so dense I could hear the creak of the wood beneath our slightest movements. My father was sitting across from me on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped together. Mine lay on my lap, fingers interlaced with a tension that betrayed just how uncomfortable I felt. I knew Bright was behind the door; I could feel him, as if his energy seeped through the wood. That silent presence made me more alert, as though every word I spoke was not only a confession to my father but also to him. “Sophia,” my father said, his voice more broken than I had ever heard it. “You don’t know how sorry I am.” I lifted my eyes and saw him looking at me with a mixture of shame and regret that startled me. He had never been a man to show weakness, especially not in front of me. I swallowed hard, clasping my hands tighter. “Dad…” I murmured, unsure of what to say. “I know I wasn’t there when you needed me most,” he went on, the words dragged out as
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