My Place

Veyra POV

I was born to rule. In the werewolf kingdom, the first child is always a male, destined to become the future alpha. Only, my family got a girl first.

I’ve spent my entire life fighting against tradition, clawing and proving I could lead. Everyone doubted me; whispers followed me wherever I went, saying I would fail. Tonight, I’ve proved them wrong.

Tonight, I’m finally given the title I’ve earned. Tonight, I become Alpha. 

Standing still, I let the maids rush around me. Each one is pulling fabric tighter, adjusting my hair, smoothing creases and such. I barely notice their bustling hands. 

My mind is racing right now, a blend of nerves and excitement that flutters inside my stomach. Tonight isn't only about accepting the alpha title. Tonight, I marry my mate, and claim my future, and my pack's future. 

One of the maids yanks my corset tighter, and my breath catches sharply. I feel like I will suffocate soon.

“Are you nervous, Miss Veyra?” she asks softly, adjusting a fold of the heavy satin dress.

“No,” I reply, before straightening my spine and lifting my chin. “I’m actually excited.”

Their smiles are warm and gentle, their eyes filled with pride. I am, everything changes for me today. 

“And so you should be. The first female Alpha! The firstborn female. You were destined for greatness.”

Destined? No, destiny didn’t shape me. I hate how people think this is destiny. I did this myself. Every scar, every sleepless night spent training until my limbs trembled, every moment standing alone against tradition. Everything was all me, it that was my doing, not fate’s. I could have just sat back and expected to be handed it, but I didn't. I fought for this.

The large doors creak open, and I glance toward the beta. He nods softly, a silent signal and I know that it’s time.

My heart thuds heavily as I step out into the cool night air. The moon shines down, bathing everything in pale silver, illuminating the winding pathway that leads toward the mating hall. This is it. It's happening.

Behind me, the maids hurry quietly, careful to keep my gown from dragging. Their hands hold the dress up slightly as I walk.

My footsteps falter slightly when a figure catches my eye. Lyra. My stomach twists sharply. Why is she here? And why is she wearing a wedding dress?

A chill crawls down my spine as she waves, a mocking smirk curling her lips. My throat tightens painfully, but I don’t pause, I'm not someone who does that. I keep my stride firm, my expression neutral.

“You foolish girl,” Lyra snarls suddenly, stepping forward to shove me. I brace myself, heels digging into the soft earth. I won't even stumble under her.

“Excuse me,” I manage to say evenly, despite the fire burning in my chest. “I have a wedding to get to.”

“Oh, you mean my wedding with Kieran?” Her smile is triumphant, vicious. My heart stops briefly before resuming in a frantic rhythm. “He’s so handsome, isn’t he?”

Hot anger and confusion blur together inside my head. Is she crazy? My hands tremble slightly, hidden within the layers of my gown.

“Lyra, you’re not welcome in our pack. Now leave.” She's our enemy, her pack is our pack's enemy.

She laughs, a cruel sound that pierces straight into my chest. “You have no idea what’s happening. I’ll give you a clue. You should turn around and walk away. You’re not marrying Kieran.”

My jaw clenches, pulse thundering in my ears. Lyra has always despised me. She's someone who always found joy in tormenting me. But this? This feels different. Dangerous. She has shown up at my wedding to taunt me.

Sighing to regain control, I shake my head. “Lyra, I’m marrying Kieran. You can either move out of my way, or I will throw you.” The threat is real, I'm not afraid to drag her out of the pack.

A tense silence hangs between us before she steps back, reluctantly. My heart beats unevenly as the maids open the heavy wooden doors of the mating hall. Finally. Whatever her foolish plan was isn't going to work.

Inside, my eyes immediately find Kieran. He stands tall at the front of the hall, flanked by my father. I'm glad, there was doubt in my mind that he would be here.

The room is beautiful, it's the first time I've seen it. There's candlelight flickering gently along carved pillars, delicate flowers woven into the ceiling, scenting the air with sweetness. Yet, tension buzzes beneath it all, palpable and unsettling. 

Focus, come on! Pushing Lyra from my thoughts I focus on Kieran. That's all that matters. I walk towards him. Yet his gaze slips past me, lingering toward the door. My stomach tightens again. Behind me, soft footsteps echo, each one heightening my dread.

Lyra has followed. Why and what for? I'm not even sure how she got in here.

Clenching my teeth, I step closer to Kieran. “I’ll sort her,” I whisper urgently. “I apologise. She’s my issue. She’s here to spite me, to cause trouble.”

Why didn't I think of this? Lyra would of course use my wedding as a time to taunt me.

Kieran doesn’t smile or reassure me. Instead, his eyes are distant and for some reason guarded. “We should talk,” he says quietly, pulling me aside.

My heartbeat stumbles. “Kieran, we need to get married before the moon moves,” I remind him softly, nerves creeping higher. Why isn't he focusing on the wedding right now?

“I’m marrying Lyra.”

The words slam into me and it's like a physical blow. I feel sick. My entire body freezes, breath caught painfully in my throat. I stare at him, searching desperately for some sign that he’s joking. He has to be right? I mean, this is some twisted misunderstanding.

“No,” I whisper, voice strained. “We’re mates. How can you marry Lyra?”

He sighs heavily, almost bored and that just annoys me. “Well, you see, her brother has agreed that I can be alpha of her pack if I marry her.”

A laugh escapes me, choked and painful. The absurdity is overwhelming, suffocating. “Is that a joke?” Someone has to tell me it is, there's no way that's real.

“I have a choice. I marry you, and you take the title of alpha, while I just exist at your side. Or I marry Lyra and become alpha of her pack as well. Or,” he pauses, eyes calculating, “you could agree to give me the pack once we marry.”

My heart pounds furiously, disbelief clouding everything. Is this some sort of trick? “I’m not giving up my title to you,” I say firmly.

“You would still be Luna, of my pack and this one. But I will be alpha here as well.”

Cold dread settles heavily in my stomach. “This is my pack, Kieran. I will not give you the title.” How can he even expect that of me?

“Then I don’t marry you.” He steps around me effortlessly, joining Lyra’s side. Gasps ripple through the crowd, confusion and shock painted on every face.

Panic and fury war within me. I step forward, confronting them directly. “You can’t do this. We’re mates.”

He laughs, and it hurts more than a physical strike. There's no care in it like before, it's cold and heartless. “I gain nothing from marrying you, Veyra. I don’t become Alpha of this pack, you do.”

“This was never about you getting something!” He never wanted to be Alpha of this pack! This is the first I've heard of it.

“That was always my plan. But I realized recently that you’re not likely to give me the pack. So I found Lyra.”

The ache in my chest deepens painfully. “Lyra? The one person who hates me most? My biggest enemy?” I shake my head, unable to grasp the betrayal fully. “She’s the daughter of the pack that is our rival.”

Lyra shoves me roughly, interrupting. “Step aside, Veyra.”

Instinctively, I push back, knocking her from Kieran’s hold. She collapses dramatically, tears springing to her eyes. God, how pathetic can she be?

“You’re picking her over me? Someone weak?”

Lyra’s face twists suddenly. “I’m pregnant!” Her voice rings through the hall, sharp and devastating.

My heart stops completely this time, nausea rising swiftly. “What?” I whisper, desperation in my voice. My gaze darts to Kieran, searching desperately for denial, waiting for him to say it's not true. But his expression is cold, indifferent and he doesn't even try to deny it.

“You slept with her?” My voice cracks, pain spreading rapidly through my chest.

He says nothing, simply helps Lyra stand and roughly shoves me aside. “Continue the wedding, but I’m marrying Lyra.”

My body refuses to move, the world around me is spinning chaotically. My father strides toward me, his grip painfully tight on my arm. His eyes blaze with anger and disappointment, and shame burns hot across my skin.

How is any of this my fault?