The Alpha's Proxy Bride

Scout’s POV

“Where is she?”

Alpha Nixon’s voice boomed across the lawn. It hit the crowd like a physical blow, silencing the restless whispers. I stood near the back, watching members of both our pack and his shift uncomfortably. Every eye darted toward the empty altar.

My sister, Simone, was late. Fifteen minutes late.

My gaze flickered over the sea of guests, hunting for a familiar face. Harmoni, my mate, was supposed to be managing the final logistics. He had stepped away toward the parking area nearly an hour ago, promising to return in five minutes. I checked my phone for the tenth time. Nothing. No response to my texts, no missed calls. My gut twisted into a tight, hard knot.

“Miss Cranberry.”

I jumped, stumbling back and catching the edge of a decorative vase. It wobbled, then tipped, shattering against the stone path. I didn't even look down at the shards. Alpha Nixon stood barely two feet away, his presence suffocating. His dark suit was immaculate, but his jaw muscle flexed in a rhythmic, jagged motion.

“Where is your sister?” he asked.

I swallowed hard, my throat feeling like it was lined with sandpaper. “She is just finishing her preparations, Alpha. You know how these things go.”

His gaze narrowed, turning his eyes into cold, dark stones. He checked his watch, the movement sharp and impatient. “The ceremony was set for nine. It is now nine-fifteen.”

My skin crawled. I felt the weight of his irritation, a low-frequency hum of dominance that made me want to bolt. “I will go check on her immediately.”

I didn't wait for his permission. I gathered my skirts and turned, breaking into a brisk walk that quickly turned into a run. I didn't stop until I reached the main house.

“Simone? We’re behind schedule. You need to be out there,” I called out, pushing through the front door.

The house was tomb-quiet. I rushed up the stairs and burst into Simone’s bedroom. “Are you even dressed yet? The guests are - ”

I stopped dead.

Simone was gone. My stepmother, Henley, stood by the far wall. She looked like a ghost, her skin pale and her eyes fixed on something invisible in the middle of the room. A single sheet of paper fluttered in her trembling hand.

I shut the door, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Mother? Where is she?”

Henley didn't speak. She just held out the paper.

I recognized the handwriting instantly. The oversized loops, the lazy cross-bars on the t’s. I scanned the lines.

Dearest Mother and Father, By the time you read this, I will be far from here. I cannot marry Alpha Nixon when my heart belongs to another. I know this will cause problems, but I cannot live a lie. Simone and I have been planning this for weeks. We are going somewhere no one will find us. Please forgive me, but I had to choose love.

I read it twice. The words felt like nonsense, a bad dream I hadn’t woken up from yet. I looked toward the door. Simone’s wedding gown hung on the hook, tags still attached. Her shoes were tucked underneath, tissue paper still bunched in the toes.

My phone was in my hand before I realized I was dialling Simone.

“Scout.”

He answered on the first ring. He didn't sound panicked. He sounded finished.

“Tell me you aren’t with her,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Tell me this is a joke.”

Silence. Just the steady hum of the line.

“Simone, please. Tell me my sister didn’t run off with you.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. It was soft, almost gentle. It was the last thing I wanted to hear. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

The room swayed. I grabbed the back of a chair, my knuckles turning white. “What about us? What happens now?”

“There is no us, Scout.”

The bluntness of his statement hit me harder than a physical strike. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m rejecting the bond. Simone and I... this is what I want. It’s what I’ve always wanted.”

The pain was instantaneous. It wasn't just heartbreak; it was a visceral tearing sensation in my chest. I felt the mate bond stretch, thin and frayed, and then snap. The sound of it seemed to ring in my ears. I doubled over, clutching my sternum, gasping for air that wouldn't come.

“The pack,” I choked out, my teeth grit tight. “Alpha Nixon is going to destroy us.”

“I’m just a sentinel, Scout. My life belongs to me.”

“You selfish coward,” I spat, though my voice was weak. “They’ll slaughter everyone because of this.”

“We’re already miles away. Do not try to find us.”

The line went dead.

I stared at the black screen, waiting for him to call back, to tell me he was joking. Nothing happened.

“Scout.” Henley’s voice was hollow. “Look outside.”

I stumbled toward the window. Below, the garden was in chaos. Guests were standing, chairs overturned. Groups of wolves were whispering in panicked clusters. Alpha Nixon stood near the altar, his posture rigid enough to snap, his fists balled at his sides.

“When he realizes,” Henley whispered. Her voice cracked. “He will kill us all.”

“We’ll explain,” I said, the words feeling thin and useless even as I spoke them. “We’ll tell him we didn’t know.”

Henley let out a harsh, jagged laugh. “Do you think he cares about excuses? He came here with contracts and gifts. Our daughter humiliated him in front of two packs. Our father will be executed for this, Scout. Pack law is absolute. Breach of contract means death.”

I felt the blood drain from my face. “He wouldn’t kill everyone. The children - ”

“He will see us as a blight,” she snapped, walking over to the wedding dress. She lifted it off the hook. Her hands were shaking violently. “We have to fix this.”

“What are you doing?”

“You are the same height. The same build.” She looked at me, her eyes wild. “You are going to walk down that aisle.”

“That is insane. He’s seen her before. He’ll know.”

“They’ve barely met, and always at a distance with your father hovering,” Henley said, shoving the heavy veil into my hands. “The lace is thick. He won’t look closely. He just wants his bride.”

“This won’t work.”

“He will kill our father,” she hissed, grabbing my shoulders. “He will kill the children. Are you really going to stand there and let that happen because you’re afraid?”

A heavy thud echoed from the hallway. Someone was at the door.

“Mrs. Cranberry?”

Nixon’s voice was right outside. It sounded like grinding stone.

“I need to see my bride. Now.”

Henley grabbed the dress and thrust it toward my chest. “Do it. Now.”

I looked at the white lace, then at the door, and finally at my stepmother’s desperate face.

“Help me,” I whispered.