CHAPTER FOUR

I stood before the mirror, the dress clinging to my body like a second skin. It was beautiful—I had to admit that much. Deep burgundy silk that pooled at my feet, with delicate gold embroidery along the neckline that caught the light every time I moved. The jewelry he'd chosen sparkled against my collarbone, right where Tyler's mark used to be.

Used to be.

The mark had faded completely now, leaving nothing but smooth, unmarked skin. As if Tyler had never existed. As if our bond had never been real.

A tear rolled down my cheek, hot and bitter. I watched it trail down my face in the mirror's reflection, leaving a wet streak through the powder I'd reluctantly applied.

No. I couldn't do this. I couldn't let Damon see me break.

He'd already taken everything from me—Tyler, my freedom, my future. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing my tears too. He didn't deserve to witness my pain, not after what he'd done.

I wiped the tear away roughly, then took a steadying breath. My hands trembled as I smoothed down the dress, checking my reflection one final time. The woman staring back at me looked like a stranger—elegant, composed, dressed like royalty. But her eyes were hollow, empty of everything except grief and rage.

This was who I was now. Damon's Luna. His possession. His prize.

The thought made my stomach turn.

I grabbed the small clutch he'd provided—because of course he'd thought of everything—and walked toward my bedroom door. Each step felt heavier than the last, like I was walking toward my own execution rather than a mating ceremony.

My hand hovered over the doorknob. Part of me wanted to stay locked in this room forever, to refuse to participate in this charade. But I knew it wouldn't matter. Damon would break down the door if he had to. He'd made that perfectly clear.

I pulled the door open.

And froze.

Damon stood right there, his hand raised as if he'd been about to knock—or break in. We stared at each other for a long moment, neither of us moving.

He looked... different. Still in that perfectly tailored suit, but there was something in his expression I couldn't quite read. Relief? Surprise? I couldn't tell, and I didn't care to figure it out.

His eyes traveled down my body slowly, taking in the dress, the jewelry, the careful way I'd styled my hair. When his gaze met mine again, something flickered in those hazel eyes.

"You look beautiful," he said quietly.

I wanted to spit in his face. Instead, I lifted my chin and met his stare with cold defiance. "Let's get this over with."

His jaw tightened, but he didn't argue. He simply stepped aside and gestured toward the small living room. "The car's waiting outside."

I brushed past him without another word, my shoulder barely missing his chest. I could feel his eyes on my back as I walked through the tiny house that suddenly felt even smaller with him in it. Every corner held memories of better times—my mother's laughter, Tyler's smile, a life that felt like it belonged to someone else now.

The front door stood open, and beyond it, I could see the black vehicle idling in the driveway. Two of Damon's men stood beside it, their expressions blank and professional. They straightened when they saw us approaching.

I stepped outside into the cool night air, my heels clicking against the concrete. I didn't wait for anyone to open the car door—I reached for the handle myself.

But Damon was faster. His hand covered mine on the handle, his body close enough that I could feel his warmth against my back.

"Allow me," he said, his voice low.

I yanked my hand away like his touch had burned me and stepped back, wrapping my arms around myself. "Just open it."

Something flashed across his face—hurt, maybe—but it was gone so quickly I might have imagined it. He pulled the door open and gestured for me to get in.

I climbed inside without looking at him, sliding across the leather seat to press myself against the opposite door. As far from him as I could get in the confined space.

Damon slid in beside me, and the door closed with a heavy thud that felt far too final. The interior light faded, leaving us in semi-darkness broken only by the streetlights outside.

The engine purred to life, and we pulled away from the only home I'd ever known. I pressed my face against the window, watching the familiar streets blur past. My father's house grew smaller in the distance until it disappeared completely around a corner.

I didn't know if I'd ever see it again.

The silence in the car was suffocating. Damon sat beside me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body, smell that expensive cologne that made my nose itch. I kept my gaze fixed firmly on the window, refusing to acknowledge his presence.

Minutes passed. The familiar streets of our neighborhood gave way to wider roads, then to the more affluent part of pack territory. Mansions began appearing behind iron gates and tall hedges, each one more impressive than the last.

"Elodie—"

"Don't," I cut him off, my voice sharp as broken glass. "Don't talk to me. Don't try to explain. Don't pretend this is anything other than what it is."

"And what is it?" His voice was low, controlled. Too controlled.

I finally turned to look at him, letting all the hatred I felt burn in my eyes. "You bought me. Like property. Like I'm some object you can possess. So don't sit there and try to make conversation like we're friends. We're not. We'll never be."

Something flashed across his face—pain, maybe, or anger. But it was gone so quickly I might have imagined it.

"I'm doing this to protect you," he said quietly.

I laughed, the sound harsh and bitter in the confined space. "Protect me? You killed the man I loved, Damon. The man who marked me, who promised to marry me. And now you want to stand there and tell me you're protecting me?"

"Tyler wouldn't have wanted—"

"DON'T." The word exploded out of me. "Don't you dare tell me what Tyler would have wanted. You don't get to speak for him. Not after what you did."

His jaw clenched, muscles working beneath his skin. For a moment, I thought he might argue, might try to defend himself. But instead, he turned away, staring out his own window into the darkness.

Good. Let him sit in his guilt. Let him feel even a fraction of the pain I carried every single day.

The rest of the drive passed in tense silence. I watched the landscape change, becoming more and more grand with each passing mile. We were heading toward the heart of the pack lands, where the Alpha's mansion stood.

I'd only seen it once before, from a distance during a pack gathering. It had looked imposing then, like something out of a fairy tale—all stone walls and towering windows, surrounded by acres of perfectly manicured grounds.

Now, as we pulled through massive iron gates, it looked less like a fairy tale and more like a prison.

The mansion loomed before us, every window blazing with light. I could see figures moving inside, shadows dancing against the curtains. The sound of music drifted out into the night—something classical and elegant that made my skin crawl.

They were celebrating. Celebrating my prison sentence.

The car followed a circular driveway, pulling up to the front entrance where a red carpet had been rolled out. Red carpet. Like this was some kind of joyous occasion instead of a forced marriage.

Several attendants rushed forward as we stopped, opening doors and standing at attention. Damon stepped out first, buttoning his suit jacket with practiced ease. Then he turned and offered me his hand.

I stared at it like it was a snake ready to strike.

"Elodie," he said, his voice carrying a warning edge. "Don't make a scene."

I wanted to. God, I wanted to scream and fight and make him drag me inside kicking and clawing. But I could see people gathering near the entrance, their curious faces turning our way. Pack members dressed in their finest, champagne glasses in hand, all waiting to get a look at the new Luna.

I wouldn't give them a show. I wouldn't let them see me broken.

So I ignored his hand and climbed out of the car myself, smoothing down my dress with as much dignity as I could muster. My heels clicked against the stone as I stood, and I was grateful for the extra height they gave me. I needed every advantage I could get.

Damon's hand found the small of my back anyway, guiding me forward. I flinched at his touch but forced myself not to pull away. Not yet. Not in front of everyone watching from the entrance.

We climbed the stone steps together, and as we reached the top, the massive double doors swung open.

The interior was even more overwhelming than I'd imagined. A grand foyer stretched before us, all marble floors and soaring ceilings. A chandelier that must have cost more than my father's house hung overhead, crystal teardrops catching the light and scattering rainbows across the walls. A sweeping staircase curved up to the second floor, its bannister polished to a mirror shine.

And everywhere—everywhere—there were people.

Pack members filled the space, their conversations creating a low buzz that echoed off the high ceilings. They were dressed in elegant suits and flowing gowns, jewelry glittering at throats and wrists. Servers moved through the crowd with trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvres.

It looked like something out of a magazine. Beautiful, expensive, perfect.

And I hated every inch of it.

The conversations died as we entered. One by one, heads turned our way. The buzz of chatter faded to whispers, then to complete silence. I could feel the weight of their stares, could practically hear their thoughts.

"Is that her?"

"Tyler's mate?"

"I heard she tried to run..."

"Poor thing, having to marry her dead mate's killer..."

Each whispered word was a knife to my heart, but I kept my face carefully blank. I wouldn't let them see me hurt. I wouldn't give anyone that satisfaction.

Damon's hand pressed more firmly against my back, steering me through the crowd. People parted before us like water, creating a clear path through the foyer. Some looked sympathetic. Others looked curious, their eyes bright with barely concealed gossip. A few looked almost... hungry, like they were watching a tragedy unfold and couldn't wait to see how it ended.

I kept my eyes straight ahead, refusing to meet anyone's gaze. My hands were clenched so tightly around my clutch that my knuckles had turned white.

We reached the grand staircase, and Damon guided me up. Each step felt like climbing toward my own execution. Behind us, I could hear the conversations starting up again—quieter now, more furtive, but no less vicious.

The second floor was quieter. The thick carpet muffled our footsteps as we walked down a long hallway lined with portraits of past Alphas. Their painted eyes seemed to follow us, judging, watching.

Damon stopped in front of an ornate door about halfway down the hall. He pushed it open, revealing a lavishly decorated room beyond. Soft lighting from elegant lamps. Plush furniture upholstered in deep blues and silvers. A massive window overlooking the gardens below, framed by heavy velvet curtains. A four-poster bed that looked like it could sleep five people comfortably.

It was beautiful. It was suffocating.

"Wait here," Damon said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "The ceremony starts at midnight. I'll send someone to get you when it's time."

I walked into the room without responding, my eyes scanning for exits. The window—but we were on the second floor. The door—but I could already hear Damon's next words.

"There will be guards outside," he added, as if reading my thoughts. "For your protection."

I turned to face him, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice. "My protection, or to make sure I don't run?"

His eyes met mine, and for just a moment, I saw something genuine there—something that almost looked like regret. But then it was gone, replaced by that infuriating calm mask he always wore.

"Both," he admitted quietly.

Then he stepped back into the hallway. "Someone will bring you water, food if you want it. Try to rest."

Rest. As if I could rest knowing what was coming.

The door closed softly, and I heard the click of a lock sliding into place.

Of course. Of course he'd lock it.

I stood alone in that beautiful prison, my chest tight with panic and rage. I walked to the window and pressed my palms against the cool glass, staring out at the gardens below. They were stunning, lit by soft lanterns that created pools of golden light among the flowers and perfectly trimmed hedges. Beyond them, I could see the dark line of the forest stretching toward the horizon.

Freedom was so close. And yet impossibly far.

A soft knock at the door made me turn. A key scraped in the lock, and then the door opened just wide enough for two young women to slip inside. They both wore simple black uniforms—maids, I realized. House staff.

They looked nervous, their eyes darting between me and each other like they weren't sure what to expect.

"The Alpha asked us to stay with you, miss," one of them said, her voice barely above a whisper. She had dark hair pulled back in a tight bun and couldn't have been more than twenty. "To make sure you have everything you need before the ceremony."

To make sure I don't escape, she meant.

"I don't need anything," I said flatly, turning back to the window.

But they didn't leave. I heard them settling into chairs near the door, heard the rustle of fabric as they made themselves comfortable. Guards disguised as helpful attendants. How thoughtful.

Time became meaningless. I stood at that window until my feet ached in the high heels, watching the party guests mingle in the gardens below. Laughter drifted up, the sound of people enjoying themselves while my life fell apart.

Eventually, I forced myself to look at the ornate clock on the mantle above the fireplace.

11:47 PM.

Thirteen minutes. Thirteen minutes until midnight. Thirteen minutes until Damon would parade me in front of the entire pack and claim me as his Luna. Thirteen minutes until my life as I knew it ended completely.

Unless...

An idea sparked in my mind, desperate and probably foolish. But it was the only chance I had left.

I turned away from the window, my heels clicking against the hardwood as I walked toward the two maids. They straightened immediately in their chairs, watching me with wary eyes.

"I need to use the bathroom," I said, keeping my voice as neutral as possible.

They exchanged glances, uncertainty flickering across their faces.

"The Alpha said you shouldn't leave this room, miss," the dark-haired one said hesitantly.

"I'm not asking to leave the mansion," I said, letting a hint of desperation creep into my voice—not that I had to fake it. "I just need to use the bathroom. Unless you expect me to stand there at midnight in front of the entire pack and wet myself?"

The crude language made them both flinch. The second maid—blonde, slightly older—bit her lip and looked at her companion.

"We could... we could escort her," she suggested quietly. "The Alpha said she shouldn't leave, but surely he didn't mean..."

They had a quick, whispered conversation while I stood there trying to look uncomfortable and desperate rather than calculating. Finally, they both nodded.

"We'll take you," the dark-haired one said. "But we have to come with you. Both of us."

Of course they would. But I'd expected that.

"Fine," I said. "Just... please. I really need to go."

They stood and walked to the door, unlocking it and checking the hallway before gesturing for me to follow. I did, my heart pounding so hard I was sure they could hear it. We passed two guards stationed outside—large, intimidating men who watched us with cold eyes but didn't try to stop us. The maids had clearance, apparently.

We walked down the hallway, past more portraits and closed doors, until we reached an ornate bathroom. The maids followed me inside, both of them clearly uncomfortable with the situation.

I turned and raised an eyebrow. "You're going to watch me?"

They had the decency to look embarrassed.

"We'll... we'll turn around," the blonde one said. "And stay by the door. But we can't leave you alone, miss. The Alpha was very clear."

Close enough to grab me if I tried anything. They were smart—I'd give them that.

"Fine," I muttered, walking deeper into the bathroom.

It was as lavish as everything else in this mansion—all marble countertops and gold fixtures. A large mirror took up most of one wall, reflecting my pale, frightened face back at me. A clawfoot tub sat in the corner, and beside the sink...

My eyes landed on a heavy crystal vase filled with fresh flowers. It was solid, expensive-looking. The base was thick enough to do real damage.

Perfect.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my shaking hands. I'd never hurt anyone before. Never even thrown a punch. But Tyler was dead, and Damon had taken everything, and I was so tired of being helpless. So tired of everyone else making decisions about my life.

This was my choice. Mine.

I grabbed the vase with both hands, careful to keep the movement quiet. Water sloshed softly as I lifted it, flowers drooping over the edge. The maids stood with their backs to me near the door, whispering to each other nervously.

I'm sorry, I thought. I'm so sorry.

Then I walked up behind them and swung.

The first maid—the dark-haired one—never saw it coming. The vase connected with the back of her head with a sickening thud, and she crumpled immediately, dropping to the tile floor without a sound.

The blonde one spun around, her eyes going wide with shock. She opened her mouth to scream, but I was already swinging again.

This time I caught her on the temple. Her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed beside her companion, unconscious.

I stood there for a moment, the vase still clutched in my trembling hands, staring down at what I'd done. Both women were breathing—I could see their chests rising and falling—but they were completely out.

Oh God. Oh God, what did I just do?

But there was no time for guilt. No time for second thoughts. I set down the vase carefully and grabbed towels from a rack, wadding them up and placing them under the women's heads. It wasn't much, but at least they'd be more comfortable.

They'd wake up soon—I hadn't hit them that hard, I didn't think—but hopefully by then I'd be long gone.

I cracked open the bathroom door and peered out into the hallway. Empty. The guards who'd been stationed outside my room were far enough away that they couldn't see this part of the corridor.

My heart hammered against my ribs as I slipped out of the bathroom and pressed myself against the wall. Every shadow looked threatening. Every distant sound of music and laughter from downstairs made me freeze.

I had to find a way out. A back entrance, a servant's stairway, anything.

I moved as quietly as I could in my heels, cursing the click they made against the hardwood despite the carpet runner. Every door I passed seemed to loom larger, more ominous. I tried a few handles—locked. All locked. Damon's security was thorough.

The clock was ticking. I could feel each second slipping away, bringing me closer to midnight. Closer to that ceremony.

I turned a corner, my breath coming faster now, panic starting to claw at my chest. Which way led to an exit? How was I supposed to navigate this massive place?

Then I saw it—a door, slightly ajar, with light spilling out into the hallway.

Voices drifted through the opening. One of them made me freeze mid-step.

Damon.

I should have kept moving. Should have focused on finding an exit, on escaping. But something in his tone made me pause. There was a tension there, a strain I'd never heard before.

It was wrong to eavesdrop. Dangerous. Every instinct screamed at me to run while I still could.

But my feet wouldn't move. Instead, I found myself pressing against the wall beside the door, leaning closer to that gap, holding my breath as I listened.

"Are you certain?" Damon's voice came through clearly now. He sounded... tired. Raw. Nothing like the composed Alpha who'd sat in my father's house earlier.

"Yes, Alpha." The responding voice was male, younger. "We've searched the entire area downstream. Multiple dive teams. We've covered miles of riverbank and tributaries."

My heart stopped.

"And?" Damon's voice cracked slightly on that single word.

"Nothing, sir. There's no sign of the body. Tyler's remains... they haven't been found."

The floor seemed to tilt beneath me. Tyler's body. They couldn't find Tyler's body.

"The currents are strong in that part of the river," the younger man continued, his tone apologetic. "Especially during this season. It's possible he was carried much further downstream than we estimated. Maybe even washed out past pack territories into neutral lands. But without a body, we can't—"

"Keep searching." Damon's command cut through the air like a blade. "I don't care how long it takes. I don't care how many men you have to deploy or how far you have to go. Find him."

There was a pause. "Alpha, it's been a month. The chances of recovering anything now are—"

"I said keep searching!" Damon's voice rose, sharp and desperate. Nothing like the controlled man I thought I knew. "Tyler deserves a proper burial. His family deserves closure. I won't—" His voice broke. "I won't rest until we bring him home. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Alpha. I understand."

I stood frozen outside that door, my hand pressed against my mouth to keep from making a sound. My mind reeled, trying to process what I'd just heard.

Tyler's body was missing.

After a month of searching, they still hadn't found him.

What did that mean? Had the river carried him so far that—

A hand clamped over my mouth from behind, cutting off the gasp that tried to escape. Another arm wrapped around my waist like an iron band, pinning my arms to my sides as I was yanked backward.

I struggled instinctively, tried to scream against the palm pressed hard against my lips, but the grip was too strong. Panic flooded through me, white-hot and blinding, as I was dragged away from that door, away from the conversation, away from the truth I'd just stumbled upon.

No. No, no, no—

The hand over my mouth tightened as I thrashed, my heels scraping uselessly against the carpet. I caught a glimpse of expensive shoes, the edge of a dark suit.

One of Damon's guards had found me.

And now he was dragging me back toward that beautiful room that was really just another cage.

Back toward the ceremony that would seal my fate.

Back toward Damon.