Chapter 9 – On the Eve

The pack-house had finally quietened. The bustling of seamstresses, decorators, and servants had all been trickled into silence, leaving the hallways hushed except for the occasional echo of a door closing or the distant hoot of an owl beyond the windows.

Ella stood in her borrowed room, the gown draped across the bed like looking like a beautiful accusation. Moonlight spilled through the curtains, silvering the delicate lace, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to touch it.

Her chest ached with the pressure of everything which were unspoken.

Tomorrow, she would stand before the pack and pledge herself to a man who despises her. Tomorrow, she would take the name of Luna, a title she had never sought or desired for and one she feared she would never be fit to carry.

A soft knock pulled her away from her thoughts.

Marcus stepped inside, his presence filling the room the way it always had—solid, grounding. His gray-streaked hair caught the moonlight, his shoulders square though his eyes softened when they met hers.

“You should be resting, cub,” he said, voice low but gentle.

Ella swallowed. “I can’t. Every time I close my eyes, all I see is tomorrow. Everyone staring at me. Everyone expecting me to be something I clearly I’m not.”

Marcus crossed the room and laid a hand on her shoulder. His palm was warm, grounding her against the storm inside. “You are much more than what they see or say. Don’t let them succeed into fooling you into believing otherwise.”

Tears stung at the corners of her eyes. “But I’m not a werewolf, I’m just human. I’ll never feel the bond the way they all do. And Cole—” She faltered, her throat tightening. “Cole actually hates me.”

Marcus’s jaw tightened. He didn’t speak right away, as though he’s carefully trying to weigh his words. Finally, he said, “He is young. Stubborn. Angry. But anger is not what makes whole of him. Bonds reveal truths we don’t sometimes want to face. In time, he will learn what you actually mean to him.”

Ella turned away, wrapping her arms around herself. “And what if he doesn’t? What if I spend the rest of my life chained to someone who wishes I were someone else?”

Marcus exhaled slowly. “Then you live for yourself and not for him. You have been able to survive worse, cub. Tomorrow is not the end of the road —it’s just the beginning of a fight. And if anyone can fight it and come out victorious, it is you.”

His words gave her a small spark of strength, though the fear lingered feeling heavy as a stone in her chest but she felt a bit of ease. She nodded, forcing a thin smile. “Thank you, Marcus.”

He squeezed her shoulder once more before leaving, he closed the door softly behind him.

Ella turned back to the gown. She couldn’t still bring herself to touch it.

---

Elsewhere in the pack-house, Cole paced the length of his room. He felt like a caged animal, who has been stripped of his willpower. The fire in the hearth had burned low, casting the chamber in flickering shadows, but he just couldn’t settle down. Every time he tried to, the bond tugged at him, pulling his thoughts back to his mate, Ella.

Her face rose in his mind unbidden, the way her lashes lowered when she sketched in that her damn notebook, the way she smiled at everyone no matter how cruel they were towards her. He clenched his fists, trying to banish it all, but it was like trying to tear out a root that has been rooted too deep in the soil.

This wasn’t supposed to be his fate.

He should have been free to choose. Free to love Sasha, the girl who had always been by his side for years. The girl who understood him totally, who matched his ambition, who whispered that the pack could be theirs to shape.

But instead, the Goddess had bound him to Ella. The human girl who had no wolf. The charity case.

Cole slammed his fist against the wall, the wood cracking under the force. His chest heaved with frustration. He could already foresee the look in his father’s eyes tomorrow—the smug satisfaction of an Alpha certain the bond was of a divine will.

But what about his will?

What about his choice?

The door creaked open behind him. He didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

“Pacing won’t make anything change,” Sasha said, her voice smooth, laced with a bitter edge. She stepped into the room, closing the door softly behind her. In the firelight, her green eyes gleamed, her lips curving in that practiced smile that always made his chest tighten.

“She’s not worthy of you,” Sasha whispered, stepping closer. “Everyone sees it but your father. He’s been blinded by tradition. But you and I—we know the truth. You belong with me.”

Cole closed his eyes, fighting the war inside himself. The bond to Ella tugged like a chain, but Sasha’s presence burned hot and familiar.

“I can’t stop this,” he muttered. “Not tomorrow. Not with him always watching.”

Sasha touched his arm, her nails grazing his skin. “Then we make sure tomorrow is all but a show. You don’t have to love her. You don’t have to let her in. Just stay with me, Cole. Let her wear the crown, but let me be the one who have your heart.”

Her words coiled around him like smoke, it filled the cracks in his resolve. He hated Ella for making him seem weak. He hated himself for still wanting her. And he hated Sasha for knowing exactly how to use that weakness.

“I can’t promise you forever,” he said, voice rough.

“You don’t need to,” Sasha whispered, pressing closer. “Just promise me that she’ll never truly own you.”

---

The night dragged on, heavy fears which were unspoken.

Ella lay awake in her bed, she stared at the ceiling, listening to the distant sounds of the packhouse. Somewhere, laughter drifted from the kitchen—wolves drinking and celebrating the upcoming union. She wondered if they would laugh so easily if they knew the truth: that both bride and groom dreaded the ceremony more than death itself.

She turned onto her side, pulling the blanket tight around her, but it did nothing to warm her. The bond tugged faintly at her chest, like a whisper of Cole’s emotions leaking through the cracks. She felt his turmoil, his anger, his resistance.

And it terrified her.

Because no matter how much he hated her, part of her heart still longed for him.

She closed her eyes, whispering into the darkness: “Please help me, let me survive this.”

The moonlight spilled across her bed, cold and unyielding, it felt as if the Goddess herself were listening— but she was refusing to answer.