Chapter 8 – The Unwanted Crown

ELLA POV

The pack-house had been transformed into a hive of frantic energy. Bolts of fabric lay draped over chairs, seamstresses darted from room to room with pins between their teeth, and the head cook barked orders at the apprentices in the kitchen below, through every corridor the scent of roasted meat and honeyed bread drifted all across.

At the center of it all, stood Ella, she stood like a mannequin draped in lace. A seamstress circled all around her, while tugging at the hem of her gown, she clucked her tongue talking about adjustments. The was no denying the fact that the dress was beautiful, it was a white silk with threads of silver that shimmered in the light, the kind of garment she had only ever seen or heard in fairy tales.

But Ella felt nothing of such.

Every tug of fabric felt like another stitch in the cage which was closing around her. Every whispered compliment from the women at her side was another reminder that this wasn’t her choice. This was all about duty. This was about expectation.

“Lift your arms up,” one of the seamstresses instructed her.

Ella obeyed, feeling numb. She caught her reflection in the tall mirror, a pale girl with hollow eyes, draped in finery that didn’t belong to her. The Luna-to-be. A role she had never asked or wished for.

Her stomach twisted. Cole’s face flashed in her mind—those golden eyes that burned her with resentment whenever they landed on her, the cold distance in his voice. The bond pulled at her like a tether, it was undeniable and intoxicating, but the man behind it didn’t want her. That truth made the dress feel like chains wrapped all around her.

Later, when she was finally left alone, she immediately fled out of the fitting room and slipped down the quiet corridor to breathe.

That was when Sasha appeared.

She leaned against the wall, her arms crossed, her lips curved in a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Her gown was emerald green, her dark hair shining in the afternoon light. If Ella looked like a bride, Sasha looked like she was temptation itself.

“Well, don’t you look lovely,” Sasha drawled, her gaze sweeping up and down Ella’s figure. “The perfect little Luna. I almost believe that you actually belong here.”

Ella stiffened. Over the years, She had grown used to Sasha’s barbed remarks, but today her remarks cut deeper, there were laced with venom. “I didn’t ask for any of this,” Ella said softly, hoping her voice didn’t shake.

“Oh, I know you didn’t.” Sasha pushed herself off the wall, she stepped closer, across Ella her perfume wrapped across like smoke. “But you’ll take it, won’t you? You will take the title, the dress, being with the Alpha’s son. It’s all been handed to you on a silver platter.”

Ella’s throat tightened. “Do you think any of these is easy for me? My supposed mate hates me. He doesn’t want this any more than I actually do.”

Sasha’s smile sharpened. “You’re so right. He doesn’t want any of this. But that won’t stop my father from parading you in front of the pack like you are his precious blessing.” Her eyes narrowed. “Enjoy it while it lasts, Ella. Because the pack may be all smiles now, but they’ll turn on you the moment you begin to falter. And when they do, you’ll wish you had stayed the little nobody who had been in my father’s shadow.”

Ella flinched at the cruelty, but she held Sasha’s gaze. “Maybe I’m not the one the pack expects,” she said, with the steadiness of her voice, she herself was surprised. “But I’ll never let you destroy me.”

For the first time, Sasha’s smile slipped. Just slightly. But then she laughed out, it sounded soft and mocking, she swept past Ella, leaving the echo of her perfume and venom behind.

Ella sagged against the wall, her hands trembling. She hated Sasha’s words, but part of her feared they were all true.

---

Cole watched from the balcony above as the pack prepared the great hall for the ceremony to come. Wolves hauled in garlands of pine and wildflowers, banners in the pack’s colors were strung from the rafters, and a dais was being constructed for him and Ella to stand upon.

His stomach churned.

He should have been proud. He should have felt the weight of legacy, the satisfaction of fulfilling his destiny. But instead, all he felt was suffocation.

He leaned against the railing, his jaw tight, fists clenched. His father’s voice still rang in his ears: “The bond is a sacred one, Cole. To deny it is to deny the Goddess herself.”

But Cole didn’t believe the Goddess had his best interest at heart. Not when she has successfully bound him to a girl he didn’t choose. Not when every instinct screamed at him that he was being shackled.

He caught sight of Ella across the hall, she was speaking to Marcus in hushed tones. She looked pale, fragile even, her smile looked forced. For a flicker of a moment, something almost like pity stirred within him. She didn’t want this either—that much was obvious.

But pity wasn’t love.

And pity wouldn’t keep him from despising the bond that had stolen his freedom.

That evening, Mara insisted on a family dinner, a “celebration of what’s to come” is what she called it. The long table glittered with silverware and steaming dishes. Victor raised his glass in toast after toast, his pride filling the hall like smoke. Marcus sat tall and watchful, with Ella at his side, quiet and withdrawn.

Cole barely touched his food. His jaw ached from clenching it so tightly.

When Victor declared, “Tomorrow, our Luna will step forward,” the pack howled with their approval. The sound reverberated in Cole’s chest, but he didn’t join in the excitement. His eyes slid to Ella’s, catching her expression in that moment.

Her smile was brittle. Her eyes, were full of sorrow.

And in that silent exchange, Cole realized they were both prisoners in the same cage.

*********

Later that night, Ella stood alone on the veranda, the cool air brushing against her bare arms. She tilted her face towards the moon, whispering a prayer she wasn’t sure anyone was listening to.

“Please…I beg of you, give me strength. If this is my path, give me the strength to walk in it. Even if the one you chose for me despises me.”

Behind her, footsteps approached. She turned, expecting Marcus—or perhaps even Mara.

Instead it was Cole.

His expression was unreadable, his golden eyes flickering with something she just couldn’t name.

For a moment, neither of them spoke a word. Then Cole muttered, almost grudgingly, “I know you don’t want this any more than I do.”

Ella swallowed, her heart hammering. “No. I don’t any of it.”

The silence stretched, heavy with truths neither of them could change. Then, without another word, Cole turned and walked away, leaving Ella alone with the cold light of the moon and the ache she was feeling in her chest.

Tomorrow, she would become his bride. Tomorrow, she would wear the unwanted crown.

And tomorrow, Sasha would be on the watch, waiting for the opportunity when she could rip it all apart.