Chapter 11 – The Wedding Ceremony

Beneath the silver glow of lanterns that was strung high in the pines, The sacred grounds shimmered. Moonlight streamed through gaps in the trees, washing the clearing in a pale blessing that should have felt holy, but to Ella it felt like a spotlight for trapping prey. Wolves from every corner of the Silver Claw’s territory filled the seats that circled the ceremonial platform, their voices a low hum of anticipation, the air was thick with incense and pine resin.

At the edge of it all, Ella stood. Her hands were clutched together, it was clutched so tightly that her nails were able to dig into her palms. The pale silk dress the Luna had chosen for her clung to her shoulders and spilled like liquid light to the ground. It was meant to make her look radiant, ethereal, a human elevated and accepted into their world but to Ella all it felt was like a costume stitched over her skin, hiding the truth of what she was: a girl who didn’t belong here, forced to play bride to a man who despised her.

Mara, the Luna, hovered at her side, fussing with the hem, whispering praises Ella couldn’t accept. “You’re glowing, dear. The Goddess herself must be feeling so  proud.” Ella smiled faintly, a curl of lips that didn’t reach her eyes. Marcus stood a few steps away, his broad figure in ceremonial robes, his chest swelling with both pride and grief. When his gaze landed on Ella, it softened. He had been the one who trained her, raised her and had always believed in her. Tonight he thought he was watching her ascend to an higher level but to Ella, all it could be compared to is she being  marched to her own execution.

“Are you ready, cub?” Marcus’s voice rumbled softly.

Ella forced a nod, her throat thick. If she should say no, they won’t listen to her anyways.

Across the clearing, Cole stood tall at the altar, the weight of every eye in the pack was pressing against his spine. He was dressed in deep charcoal robes, his father’s crest pinned at his chest, showcasing the Alpha heir in all his glory. His jaw was set tight, his expression was a mask of strength but beneath the surface was anger which coiled around him like a snake. Every muscle in his body screamed against what was about to happen. His mate was supposed to be fierce, noble, a wolf of status. Instead, it was her. The human girl who should have been nothing more than Marcus charity case.

His eyes slid toward the crowd, landing on Sasha. She sat near the front, her dark dress glittering under the lanterns, her lips curved in a smile that looked sharp enough to cut. She tilted her chin, a silent message meant only for him to decipher: This should have been us. His stomach churned in dread. He wanted to cross the clearing, tear down the altar, shout out his rejection. But his father’s voice still rang loudly in his ears, it was iron-clad and unyielding: The bond is sacred. You must honor it.

The drums began, it was a steady, low rhythm that echoed in Ella’s chest like a funeral march. She took Marcus’s arm, her feet moving of their own accord, each step heavy as stone. The pack all rose to their feet, a sea of eyes following her, whispers trailing behind her like smoke. Some of them admired her beauty, others muttered in disdain for the human who dared to stand in the position of a Luna.

As she approached, Ella’s gaze locked on Cole. His face was an unreadable stone, but his eyes — those storm-dark eyes, they burned with something raw. Not love. Not even hate. Something even worse: resentment wrapped around in duty.

When she reached him, Marcus pressed her hand into Cole’s, his eyes shining with pride. “Do take  care of her,” he murmured, as if this were a promise Cole could want to keep. Cole’s hand was warm, strong, but it didn’t close around hers. He held onto it loosely, like the way one hold on to a fragile object they don’t want.

The elder stepped forward, his voice rising over the crowd. “Tonight, under the eyes of the Moon Goddess, we bind these two souls to become one. Fate has already chosen, so who are we to question Her will?”

I am, Ella thought, with her chest aching. I’m questioning it with every fiber of my being. But she couldn’t say these aloud, she could only say this within herself.

“Cole, son of Victor, heir to the Silver Claw, do you accept this bond?”

Cole’s jaw flexed. He desperately wanted to say no. Every part of him screamed for Sasha, for his freedom. But his father’s stare burned from the front row, daring him to defy centuries of tradition. His throat was tight as he managed to force the words out. “I do.”

The elder turned to Ella. “Ella, daughter of no blood but blessed by the pack, do you accept this bond?”

Silence swelled. Her lips trembled. She could feel Marcus’s gaze at her back, she could hear Mara’s sharp inhale, see the expectation in the crowd. Saying no would mean disgrace, banishment,

perhaps something even worse. She swallowed her terror, forcing her voice to steady. “I… I do.”

A cheer erupted from the crowd, although in Ella’s ears they sounded like distant thunder. The elder spoke of the ancient words, binding them in the Goddess’s name. A cord of silver light shimmered between them for an instant — a visible proof of the bond between mates. The pack howled, a deafening chorus that rattled through the night.

Then came the kiss to seal it all.

Cole leaned in, his face so close she could feel the heat of his breath on her face. “Don’t expect me to love you,” he whispered, it was so quiet so that only she could hear him.

Ella’s heart twisted within her. She tilted her head just enough, and their lips touched, soft, brief, hollow. The pack roared with their approval, clapping and stomping in triumph. To them it was a call for celebration and victory. To Ella, all it was, was the sound of chains tightening around her wrists.

They were declared mated, husband and wife under the Goddess. As soon as the elder stepped back, Cole released her hand, it was as though her touch had burned him. Ella stood frozen, her smile brittle, her insides screaming at her.

The reception began in a frenzy of music and feasting. Wolves crowded them, offering congratulatory messages, clapping Cole on the back, pressing kisses to Ella’s cheeks. She smiled where it was required, answered when spoken to, but she felt her soul retreating further with each moment that passed.

Through the throng, Sasha appeared, her smile gleaming, her voice dripping honey. “Congratulations to you, Ella,” she purred, leaning close. Her nails brushed Ella’s arm, a mockery of affection. “Enjoy your fairy tale while it lasts. We both know how it’s going to end.”

Ella’s chest tightened, but she held her chin high, she refused to give Sasha the satisfaction of seeing her falter.

Later, when the crowd finally began to thin, Cole cornered Ella at the edge of the platform. His eyes were sharp, his words low enough to be lost under the music. “This doesn’t change anything. I didn’t want to be a partaker of this. And neither did you, so let’s not pretend.”

Ella’s throat tightened, but her reply came out clear and steady. “You may not want me, Cole, but I refused to  be humiliated. If I must stand beside you, I’ll do it with dignity. You won’t break me.”

For a heartbeat, there was a crack in his mask. Something flickered in his gaze — shame, perhaps, or maybe even the faintest glimmer of respect. Then it was all gone to be replaced by the cold bitterness he adorn so well.

The night stretched on, filled with laughter and revelry, but for Ella and Cole, the bond felt like a cage neither of them could escape. Beneath the glow of the lanterns and the watchful eyes of the Moon Goddess, two lives were chained together — not in love but in an act of reluctant duty, and in the silence that passed between them, the weight of everything that was unspoken pressed heavier than the vows they both had exchanged.