Moon Reaper’s Substitute Bride

~Aurora~

The cellar smelled of damp stone and fresh blood.

I knelt on the cold floor, arms raw from the earlier whippings, tasting iron where my lip had split.

"The prophecy demands a Varkas daughter," Lady Elowen, my stepmother had hissed earlier this evening, shoving me forward in the great hall while her true daughter, Seraphina, smiled while watching everything unfold. "You'll do. Better a worthless outcast than risking my Seraphina's life with those monsters."

I hadn't argued. I never did. Obedience was the only armor a powerless wolf possessed.

Above me, the pack was celebrating. I could hear the muffled roar of laughter, the clink of cups, the low sound of drums rehearsing for tomorrow's binding.

Tomorrow, the Varkas wolves would hand their Alpha's firstborn daughter to the heir of the Moon Reapers clan and end centuries of war. Except, nobody but the Varkas knew the truth. I was not his firstborn daughter. His real first-born was Seraphina since my mother—his first wife, had an affair.

Tomorrow, I would walk to the altar in Seraphina's place.

A key rattled in the lock. The door creaked open and Lady Elowen stepped through, her silk skirt whispering promises of punishment as she moved.

My stepmother was beautiful the way winter is beautiful: flawless, cruel, and deadly to anything that lingered too long in her presence.

She studied me the way a butcher studies meat.

"Still breathing," she says, disappointed. "I guess that's good. If you die, then my Seraphina will have no choice but to marry into that sickening family."

She crossed the cell in three measured steps and backhanded me so hard my head snapped sideways; blood flooded my mouth.

"That one was for existing," She said pleasantly. "This one is for tomorrow."

The second blow cracked across my cheekbone.

Stars burst behind my eyes.

Lady Elowen crouched, fingers twisting in my hair until my scalp screamed. "Look at me."

I forced my eyes open. Tears blurred my vision, but I would not let them fall. I had learned long ago that tears only made them happier.

"You will smile tomorrow," she whispers. "You will speak when spoken to. You will let that Reaper filth put his hands on you and you will pretend it is an honor. If you so much as whimper the truth, if you shame this family one more time and follow in your mother's footsteps, I will personally see to it that you spend the rest of your life between these walls. Do you understand?"

My voice cracked. "Yes, Stepmother."

Stepmother or shall I call her aunty? Yes, Lady Elowen was also my mother's sister. She always wanted to be married into the Varkas family and was filled with envy when my mother was chosen instead of her. The second my mother slipped up, she stepped in and took her place.

She released my hair and stood. "Clean her up," she ordered the guard outside. "Not too gently. We need to give her a proper send-off. One that she remembers forever."

I couldn't shift. Couldn't summon the sacred gift that coursed through true Varkas blood. Born of my mother's forbidden affair with a random man that no one knew anything about other than a necklace she left around my neck before she died,

I was in no way blessed like Seraphina, the pack's princess.

I was a stain on the Varkas legacy—a ghost who walked among gifted beasts but could never become one. My stepmother had made sure I knew it every day since the day I was old enough to understand.

And now, this. The universe was no doubt against me.

I had just emerged from the servants' quarters, my skin still raw and tingling from the harsh scrubbing the maids had inflicted upon me. They called it "preparation"—a ritual cleansing for the sacrifice I was about to become.

"Aurora."

Seraphina's voice cut through my thoughts. She stood at the center of the hall, radiant as always, her black hair cascading in perfect waves, her emerald eyes sparkling with that effortless superiority she'd worn since we were younger. A bright smile curved her lips, but it didn't reach those eyes. It never did when she looked at me.

I bowed my head low, the gesture ingrained in me from childhood beatings and endless lectures. "Princess," I murmured, the title tasting like dust on my tongue. From the moment I could walk, they'd drilled it into me: Seraphina was the true daughter of the Alpha King, the flawless heir. I was the mistake—the bastard child born from my mother's forbidden affair, a stain on the kingdom's proud heritage. She was better in every way: stronger, more beautiful, more loved. Destined for greatness while I was destined for suffering.

"Seraphina!"

My heart faltered, freezing me in place. That voice—deep, commanding, filled with the sound of an Alpha's power. I turned slowly, my shy eyes lifting just enough to confirm what my ears already knew. Vincent Thor strode into the hall, his broad shoulders cutting through the pack. Tall and powerful, with raven-black hair that fell just so over his piercing grey eyes, he was everything an Alpha should be: ruthless, beautiful, unbreakable. I'd been hopelessly in love with him since I was thirteen, when he'd first visited our Kingdom as a young heir. One stolen glance across the room, and I'd been lost.

He knew about my feelings. At fifteen, in a moment of foolish bravery, I'd confessed it to him in the gardens when everyone had forgotten about me—whispered words that had earned me a secret kiss, fierce and hungry, hidden behind the walls. His hands had tangled in my hair, his lips claiming mine with a promise that made my insides melt. But in public? He ignored me. Pretended scorn, just like the others. It hurt, but I clung to those hidden moments, convincing myself that he liked me and was waiting for the right opportunity to tell the truth to everyone, to claim me as his.

We were both in love and I hoped that he would find a way to get me out of this. I hoped that he would finally tell them all the truth about us. If there was anyone to save me, it was him.

Seraphina knew about my crush—of course she did. The entire pack did. It was their favorite amusement, mocking the lowly outcast who dared dream of the future king of the North.

Vincent's gaze flicked to me briefly, cold and dismissive, before settling on her. "Did you hear the news?" Seraphina asked him, her voice dripping with false sympathy as she looped her arm through his.

She glanced at me, her smile sharpening, she was enjoying this. "Poor Aurora here is taking my place tomorrow. She's to be wed to that filthy Moon Reaper. Rumors are that he's as ugly as that painting we threw out yesterday."

The words hung in the air like a death sentence. Moon Reaper—the ancient enemy, a family of ruthless hunters bred for one purpose: killing werewolves like us. Legends whispered of their silver blades, their empires built on the bones of our kind. They were monsters in human form, trained from birth to hate us, to destroy our souls under the full moon.

I waited for Vincent's reaction. A flinch. A flash of anger in those pretty eyes. Worry for me—the girl he'd kissed in secret, the girl he'd touched, the one he'd murmured soft promises to when no one watched. Something to prove I hadn't imagined it all.

Instead, his lips curved into a genuine smile.

Broad. Relieved. Happy.

Happy?

Surely, he was pretending for the sake of his reputation, just as he's always done.

"I'm just glad," he said, his voice warm as he pulled Seraphina closer, "that she's stepping in so you and I can finally be together. Wed properly, united as we were always meant to be."

What?

I don't understand.

No.

Please tell me this isn't happening. It has to be a dream or a nightmare.

No no no. He wouldn't do that to me.

Vincent wouldn't.

He loved me.