Dawn came too soon.
Ella woke to the sound of bells ringing through the pack-house courtyard, the bright chime meant to signal celebration. But to her, it felt like a funeral toll. The room smelled faintly of pressed flowers and silk—Mara’s doing, no doubt, for the Luna-to-be should wake to beauty on her wedding day.
But Ella felt none of it.
As she tried to push herself upright, her stomach churned. She stared at the gown which was draped over the wooden stand near her bed. Overnight, the seamstresses had finally returned it, it was pressed and perfect. The silver threading glimmered in the early light, and for a moment, she thought it almost mocked her.
A knock sounded, it was brisk but not unkind. Before she could answer, Mara swept in. The Luna carried a tray filled with steaming tea and slices of honey bread, her face glowing with excitement.
“It’s time to rise, dear,” Mara said, setting the tray by the bed. “Today is your D-day.”
Ella managed a small smile, but as she reached for the cup, her hands trembled. The tea tasted sweet, floral, the kind she usually loved. But now in her mouth it tasted bitter.
Mara didn’t notice this fact. She focused on the gown, smoothing the fabric as though it were something to be held sacred. “You’ll look radiant in this. The pack will be so proud. Victor is overjoyed, and Marcus—oh, the pride in his eyes last night! You’ve brought hope to all of us, Ella.”
Hope. The word cut her deep.
Ella nodded mutely, taking another sip of tea to cover her silence. She wanted to tell Mara the truth—that this day filled her with dread, that Cole’s hatred burned brighter than any bond that they shared, that she standing before the pack was all a lie. But the joy on Mara’s face made her hold on to her tongue.
Mara paused, studying her. “You’re feeling nervous.”
Ella forced a smile. “Isn’t that the same with every bride?”
Satisfied, Mara kissed her cheek and swept out, leaving Ella alone again with just her tea, her trembling hands, and the gown that glimmered like a chain.
---
Meanwhile, across the pack-house, Cole sat in his chamber, before a mirror, pulling on his ceremonial jacket. The garment was black, it was trimmed in silver, the crest of the Silver Claw was embroidered all over his heart. The weight of it all, felt suffocating.
His reflection stared back at him —sharp jaw, golden eyes, the features of an Alpha in waiting. But beneath all the polished surface was a storm brewing within.
He adjusted the jacket, muttering under his breath, “This is just a costume for a role that I don’t want.”
The door creaked open, and Victor entered, his presence filled the room. The Alpha carried himself with a quiet authority, his wolf simmering just beneath the surface. He looked at his son with pride in his eyes.
“You wear it so well,” Victor said. “As you should. Today, the Goddess affirms her choice for you. Ella is your true mate, and with her, your future begins.”
Cole clenched his jaw. “What if I don’t want this future?”
Victor’s eyes hardened. “It isn’t about what you want, Cole. It’s all about duty. The Goddess chooses and she’s never wrong. All we do is to obey.”
Cole’s hands curled into fists, but he didn’t say anything. He couldn’t openly defy his father, not here, and definitely not today. But inside, resentment burned within him, it burned hotter than fire.
Victor studied him for a long moment, then clapped his shoulder with a heavy hand. “In time, you’ll understand. You’ll see her worth. Give it time.”
When his father left, Cole exhaled a sharp breath, running a hand through his hair. Worthiness or not, he thought bitterly, she would never be Sasha or even be compared to her.
---
Marcus found Ella later, she was pacing near the window of her chamber. Her hair had already been arranged in soft curls, her dress half-fitted by the attendants who fluttered all around her like moths to flame. The sight of her trembling hands cut him deeply.
With a firm wave, He dismissed the attendants who were present. When they were all gone, he stepped forward and cupped Ella’s cheek.
“Take a deep breathe, cub.”
Her throat tightened. “I don’t think I can go through with any of this.”
“Yes. You can,” Marcus said, his voice steady, his eyes fierce with certainty. “You’ve managed to face every cruel word, every hardship melted towards you, every doubt. This is nothing but another trial. And this also you’ll endure it.”
Ella’s tears spilled across her face before she could stop them. She pressed her face into his chest, and for a moment, she was no bride, no Luna-to-be, just a girl he had raised from nothing.
“Promise me something,” she whispered.
“Anything.”
“If I can’t bear it… if it destroys me… you’ll let me go.”
Marcus’s chest ached. He held her tighter, silently swearing he’d do whatever it took to protect her. Out loud, the only words he said were, “I’ll always be by your side, cub. Always.”
The corridor outside buzzed, filled with different voices. Ella stiffened as Sasha appeared in the doorway, looking radiant in her emerald dress, her smile dripping with venom.
“Well, don’t you look the part,” Sasha purred, eyes raking over Ella’s gown. “You look almost convincing.”
Marcus’s presence kept Ella standing tall. “What do you want, Sasha?”
“I’m just here to remind you,” Sasha said, stepping closer, “that no matter what crown they place on your head, you’ll never truly have Cole. He belongs to me. He always has.”
Ella’s heart squeezed painfully, but she forcing herself not to flinch. Marcus growled low in his throat, but Sasha only smirked, enjoying the chaos she had been able to sow.
She leaned in, her whisper which was meant only for Ella: “Smile today, little cub. Pretend that you belong. But know this, when the lights fade and the pack sleeps, he’ll always come to me.”
Then she swept out, her laughter trailing behind her.
Ella’s hands shook so hard that she almost dropped the lace veil. Marcus manage to steady her, his voice was rough with anger. “Ignore her poisonous word. You are stronger than she knows.”
But the words clung to Ella like burrs, and she just couldn’t shake them off.
By midday, the pack-house roared with life. Wolves from distant outposts had already arrived, their greetings were loud and cheerful, their eyes curious as they glanced toward Ella.
She stood on the balcony with Marcus and Mara, she was forced to wave as though her heart wasn’t cracking inside her chest. The air was thick with pine and smoke from the feast fires, the sound of drums were echoing faintly through the valley.
To the pack, it was a cause for celebration.
To Ella, it was like she was at the edge of a cliff.
She turned her gaze toward Cole. He stood among the elders, tall and proud, but she could see the stiffness in his shoulders, the way his eyes slid past her as though she were invisible.
And in that moment, Ella knew: this wasn’t a union. It was just a performance.
The Goddess might have bound them together but choice had been stolen from them both.
The day was only just beginning but it already felt like the weight of it threatened to crush her.
(Sasha’s POV)The pack-house hummed with the usual chaos of morning activities, boots clattering down the stairs, laughter and arguments spilling through the halls, the sharp scent of bacon wafting from the kitchen. Sasha walked through it like a queen surveying her kingdom, her head held high, her lips curved in a poised, practiced smile. Wolves dipped their heads in greeting, some bowing lower than necessary, eager for her approval.She rewarded them with a cool nod, her heart thrumming with satisfaction. This was how it‘s supposed to be. Her at the center, her at the crown, her steps carving the path that the pack followed. Not Ella. Never should it be Ella.And yet, the whispers were beginning. She heard them at the corners of conversations, they were questions about fate, about the human girl who bore the mate bond with Cole. Small murmurs now, but murmurs had a way of growing, of solidifying into loyalty if not smothered.Sasha would not let them grow.She started with her i
(Sasha’s POV)Sasha leaned against the railing of the pack house balcony, her fingers drumming an impatient rhythm against the polished wood. Below her, the courtyard bustled with activity, wolves carrying tools, younger pups darting in and out of training yards, the air thick with the scent of sweat and pine. But Sasha’s eyes weren’t on them, instead they were fixed on Ella.The little human moved through the courtyard with a basket balanced on her hip. Despite the whispers circling all around her like smoke, her steps were still steady. Normally, Sasha would have smirked, she would have expected to see her flinch, shrink, or even disappear into herself the way she had always done. But this morning… something was clearly different.Ella didn’t falter or cower.Instead she carried herself with her head held up high, when the whispers became sharp, her gaze remained calm. She didn’t fight back, she didn’t bite back— at least not exactly—but she didn’t cower either.Sasha grip on th
(Ella’s POV)The pale light of dawn crept across the cabin floor, spilling warmth where Ella’s sketchbook still lay tucked beneath her pillow. She lay awake, staring at the beams of light, while listening to the hush of the waking forest. Her whispered vow from the night before still lingered in her chest, it was fragile but still alive: Even if he never chooses me, I refuse to falter, I will still stand my ground.That was enough to give her enough strength to rise.She dressed with deliberate care, she braided her hair back neatly, she pulled on boots, and tried smoothing the front of her simple dress. In routine, there was power, in making the chose to face the day instead of hiding from it. She had spent too many mornings curled up in shadows, but she wouldn’t do that today. But not anymore.When she stepped outside, the air was crisp and sweet, the sky was still tinged with pale gray. She made her way toward the mess hall, her pace were steady, her shoulders squared. The usual
(Ella’s POV)The morning broke with a thin veil of mist curling between the trees, softening the edges of the world. Ella sat on the edge of her bed, her blanket wrapped around her shoulders, she watched the pale light seep through the cabin window. Her body begged her for more rest, but her mind refused to take the luxury. Sleep had become a fragile thing, easily disturbed by the heavy weight pressing on her chest each night—the mate bond’s silent pull, the murmur of whispers that never truly left her.So she reached towards her sketchbook. The pencil scratched faintly against the page, sketching petals and stems with careful strokes. There were wildflowers again, their roots stretching longer than before, they twisted so deep into the soil. Once, Her hand had trembled, but she had manage to keep it steady, pressing harder until the lines were all bold and dark. If she could not control the bond, or Cole, or the cruel mouths of the pack, then this is what she could definitely contr
(Cole’s POV)Like ash, the taste of whiskey clung unto my tongue. With my face pressed against the edge of the mattress, I rose up with my head pounding so hard that it felt like a drumbeat inside my skull. With every breathe I took, my stomach rolled. For just a moment, I couldn’t move, I refused to take another breathe. I didn’t dare to remember.But memory has a cruel way of forcing itself through cracks.Her name. Her voice. A whisper through the wood of her door.“Cole?”I squeezed my eyes shut, a groan tearing out of me. I hadn’t gone inside. I hadn’t touched her. But I had wanted to. God, I really wanted to. Last night, the bond has burned so hot, it urge me to cross that line again. It was only with the faintest shred of willpower and the burn of liquor in my gut that had been the only thing to keep him away.I stared at the ceiling beams while I rolled onto my back. The cabin smelled faintly of smoke and stale drink. My knuckles ached raw from pounding them against the
(Ella’s POV)Against the cabin walls, the night pressed heavy, although the silence had never felt so loud. Under the thin quilt, her eyes were fixed on the shadows that stretched across the ceiling. Something gnawed at the edges of her awareness, there was a pulse just beyond the door, like the echo of a heartbeat that wasn’t hers.Before her mind would accept it, her body was already aware of the mate bond humming, it was restless, insistent. She sat upright, clutching the quilt close to her chest. For a fleeting moment she thought about opening the door, about stepping into the unknown tugging at her, but her fingers refused to move. What was ahead was something she wasn’t ready to face.The feeling still lingered on, Cole’s presence was as heavy as a presence leaning against the wood, before it faded like smoke on the wind.Her chest tightened, though she pressed her palms against her knees, willing her breath steady. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair.By the time dawn c