Sasha pov
The packhouse buzzed like a beehive preparing for a festival. Everywhere Ella turned to, hands tugged at her, voices gushed with suggestions—this ribbon, that fabric, the color of flowers to line the hall. The seamstresses cooed over her dress fittings, the cooks argued over menus, and the elders debated which ancient blessing should be recited before the vows.
But Sasha barely let herself see any of it.
She stood by the window in the upper corridor, her arms folded, her gaze fixed on the courtyard below. Ella twirled before Marcus and Mara, her blue dress glittered in the sunlight, her cheeks flushed pink. Laughter floated upward, it was sweet and light, the kind of laughter that made even the wolves sigh in approval. The pack had already begin to adore her, and she hadn’t even be crowned Luna yet.
Sasha’s nails bit into her arms until crescents of blood rose beneath her skin. Every laugh, every approving nod, felt like a knife which turned deeper. She had to find a way to stop it.
Then she spotted Cole, he was leaning against the far wall, his jaw clenched, his hands shoved into his pockets. He looked like a storm which was barely contained, his golden eyes flicked restlessly between Ella and the cobblestones at his feet.
Sasha’s breath steadied. This was her chance.
An hour later, She found him. He was in the training yard where he often went to sulk whenever the pack weighed too heavily on him. He was seated on the low wall, his elbows on his knees, he stared at the dirt as though the answers to his fury lay hidden in the dust.
“You look like someone who has been sentenced to death,” Sasha said, her tone light, playful.
Cole didn’t look up. “Maybe I am.”
Sasha’s lips curved. She slipped closer, she let her hips sway, knowing how his gaze always followed when he thought no one was looking. “A wedding isn’t a death sentence, Cole. Unless you count the boredom.”
He shot her a glare, but it lacked its usual bite. “Do you think this is funny? I’m being forced into marrying her.”
Sasha perched on the wall beside him, their knees nearly touching. “I actually don’t think it’s funny. I think it’s just tragic.” Her voice softened, almost mournful. “The Alpha’s son who is being shackled to a girl he doesn’t even love.”
His jaw ticked. He ran a hand through his hair, in his every movement frustration bled through. “My father believes it’s fate. He says the bond is sacred. That the Moon Goddess herself—”
Sasha leaned closer, cutting him off with a whisper. “Do you actually believe that?”
Between them, the question lingered, it felt as sharp as a blade.
Cole exhaled, a sound more growl than sigh. “I don’t know anything about what I believe anymore. When I look at her, something actually pulls through. It’s real, Sasha. But it’s not something that I want or something I desire.”
Sasha’s chest clenched, but she forced her expression into looking like sympathy. She laid a hand on his arm, her nails grazing just enough to remind him of every secret night they’d once shared. “Of course it’s real. The bond is actually magic. But magic doesn’t decide who you fall in love with. You are the one who does.”
He finally looked at her, eyes stormy, searching. For a moment, silence stretched, thick with old promises and the weight of forbidden things.
“You chose to love me,” she whispered, the words a tether between them.
His throat worked, but he didn’t bother denying it.
Encouraged, Sasha pressed on, her voice low, intimate. “Whenever I look at you, do you know what I see? You are not some puppet who dances to the tune of the moon Goddess. I see the Alpha you’re born to be. You are Strong and Independent. You are someone who chooses his own path.”
Cole’s gaze dropped to her lips, then jerked away. He shoved to his feet, pacing, dragging a hand down his face. “You actually don’t get it, Sasha. My father will never allow me reject her. He is if the opinion that rejecting a fated mate is blasphemy. If I stand up to him, I could lose everything I hold dear. my position, my right to lead this pack.”
Sasha rose, gliding toward him with deliberate grace. “Then you don’t have to stand up to him, all you have to do is make him stand down.”
His head snapped toward her, suspicion flickering across his eyes. “What are you talking about?”
She touched his chest lightly, over the steady thud of his heart. “Give him a reason. Show him Ella isn’t worthy enough. That she’s weak. That she’s dangerous for the pack. If he believes she’s actually a liability, then he won’t force the union. He’ll allow you to choose differently. To be able to choose me.”
Cole froze, the idea burrowing into his mind like a parasite. His loyalty to his father warred with his rage at the invisible chain tightening around his neck. Sasha could almost see the battle in his eyes.
“I don’t know…” he muttered, shaking his head. “If it gets out that I rejected her, the pack will split. Half of them already adore her.”
Sasha’s smile sharpened. “Packs adore what they’re being told to adore. They cheered for you when you blooded your first hunt, didn’t they? They’ll cheer again when you prove you know what’s best for them. Leaders don’t follow fate—they bend it.”
Her words dripped like honey, thick and irresistible.
---
Cole stared at her, chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. He remembered every stolen kiss shared between them, every night he laid tangled in her arms, every whispered plan about ruling side by side. The bond tugged at him, pulling him toward Ella, but Sasha’s presence tugged harder, it was anchored by years of familiarity and temptation.
Before he could stop it, his hand lifted brushing against Sasha’s cheek. She leaned into the touch, feeling triumphant.
“Promise me,” she murmured. “Promise me you’ll stop this, that you’ll reject her.”
The words hovered on his tongue, it felt dangerous and heavy. He really wanted to say the words, to reclaim control, to erase the helplessness gnawing inside of him.
But then his father’s face flashed in his mind, looking stern and unyielding. Victor, who had raised him based on stories of destiny, who had declared with pride that his son’s mate was a gift to the pack.
Cole dropped his hand, stepping back as if burned. “Not yet.”
Sasha’s smile faltered. “What do you mean by not yet?”
“I need time,” he said, running a hand through his hair again. “If I move too soon, he’ll only crush me. I have to be smart about this.”
Sasha’s nails dug into her palms, but she forced her voice calm. “Then be smart. I can help you do that. I’ll find the cracks in Ella’s perfect little image. All you have to do is just to be ready to act when the moment comes.”
His eyes met hers, conflicted but hungry. “What if I can’t?”
Her lips curved, soft and dangerous. “Then you’ll lose me. And we both know you can’t afford to lose me.”
---
That night, when Sasha returned to her room, her heart pounded with a mix of triumph and fury. Cole hadn’t outrightly promise rejection, but the seed has already been planted. If watered, Seeds grew. And she would be the one to water this seed with every drop of venom she possessed.
At her desk, she pulled out her phone again, messaging her contact.
‘Change of plans. Don’t just smear her. Find something that will make her look dangerous to the pack. Evidence, whether real or faked. I don’t care which’.
The reply which came across was a simple, a thumbs-up.
Sasha leaned back, staring out her window as the moon hanged pale in the sky. Ella might have fate on her side. But Sasha had something that was stronger.
What she had is Determination.
And if it’s requires her drawing blood, she’s prepared to as she isn’t afraid to get to any means to get what she wanted.
(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