Chapter 3

"You are not my bride."

Nixon’s voice cut through the wedding hall like a razor. The air turned frigid. My pulse hammered against my throat as I stood frozen, the heavy silk veil still clutched in his hands. A moment ago, the room had hummed with the soft music of celebration. Now, the silence was heavy enough to choke on.

I looked up at him. The man who had been my fated partner only minutes ago now peered down at me with raw, undisguised loathing.

"Scout?" A man in the front row stood up. "Where is Simone? Why is she wearing the veil?"

The murmurs rippled outward, growing into a harsh, frantic hum. The pack members were shifting in their seats, their faces tight with confusion and the first flickers of aggression.

"Deception," Nixon said. He didn't raise his voice, yet the word hit every corner of the room. "Is this how your pack greets an Alpha? With a stunt?"

I tried to swallow, but my throat was tight. The bond between us - the invisible tether that had felt like a warm promise just earlier - now vibrated with a sickening, cold tension. It felt like a frayed rope holding up a collapsing bridge.

"I can explain," I managed to choke out.

Nixon took a step toward me. His shadow swallowed my frame, making me feel small and exposed. "Start talking. Where is my bride?"

Before I could form a defence, my stepmother, Henley, shoved past a group of wedding guests. Her face was pale, her eyes wide with what looked like genuine terror. She reached me in two strides and swung her hand, striking my cheek with a sickening crack. My head snapped to the side. My ears rang with the force of the blow.

"You foolish girl," Henley shrieked. "What have you done to your sister?"

I looked at her, blinking back tears of shock. My cheek burned, but the sting in my heart was worse. This was the same woman who had pinned this veil to my hair not thirty minutes ago. The same woman who had pushed me into the dressing room, whispering that I was the only one who could save our pack from the Brown Reed wolves.

"Mother, stop," I whispered, swaying on my feet. "You told me - "

She slapped me again. My knees buckled, and for a second, the room tilted sideways.

"I told you nothing but to stay in your place!" she screamed, her voice cracking with a performance of pure, unadulterated outrage. "Where is Simone?"

I stared at her, my vision blurring. She was acting. She was putting on a play for the entire hall, and she was doing it with terrifying precision.

Nixon reached out, his fingers locking firmly around Henley’s wrist before she could wind up for a third hit. He held her steady, his gaze narrowing as he studied her face.

"You really didn't know?" Nixon asked.

Henley let out a ragged sob and collapsed to her knees, clinging to his sleeve. "I had no idea, Alpha. I left the room for a moment to check the arrangements. When I returned, she was already dressed. I thought it was my daughter." She looked up at him, her eyes glistening with rehearsed tears. "Scouthas always been jealous of her sister's standing. She must have drugged her or hidden her away."

"Jealousy," Nixon repeated, his voice dangerously low.

I opened my mouth to shout, to tell him about the letters and the hidden plans, but the words died as the side door kicked open.

Simone stumbled into the hall.

The room went deathly still. Simone looked like she had been dragged through a briar patch. A dark, ugly bruise bloomed across her cheek, and her lip was split, a thin line of red tracking down her chin. Her dress was torn at the shoulder, and she limped with every step she took toward the altar.

"Mother, don't waste your tears on her," Simone gasped, her voice trembling.

Nixon released Henley and turned his full, predatory attention toward Simone. "What happened to you?"

"She came into my room," Simone said, pointing a shaking finger at me. "She wouldn't listen. When I told her this was my marriage, she lashed out. She hit me until I went black."

I felt the blood drain from my face. "That is not true."

"I woke up in the storage closet," Simone continued, her eyes wide and haunted as she looked at the crowd. "I had to break the lock to get out. Look at me, Nixon. Does this look like a prank?"

The hall exploded. Shouts for justice turned into roars of anger. People were surging forward, their faces twisted into masks of hatred. I looked for a friendly face - someone, anyone, who might remember who I was - but all I saw was a mob.

I turned to my father. He stood near the wall, his face grey. He looked at me as if I were a stranger who had just burned down his house.

"Did you do this, Scout?" he asked. His voice wasn't angry. It was disappointed.

"I didn't," I said, though my voice sounded hollow even to me. "I was told... the instructions were..."

"She's lying," Simone sobbed, clutching her mother’s arm. "She couldn't stand the thought of me marrying an Alpha while she was forced to settle for a mere sentinel."

Nixon moved back to me. His eyes were cold, flat, and devoid of the connection we had shared earlier. He grabbed my arm, his grip hard enough to leave bruises.

"You stole the life of the bride," he said, his voice a low, vibrating growl. "And you nearly started a war in my halls."

"You have to listen to me," I pleaded, but my pulse was racing, and the doubt was starting to creep into my own mind. Had I been so hurt by the rejection that I lost control? Was I truly capable of this?

"There is nothing left to hear," Nixon said, pulling me toward the exit. "Where are you keeping the key to that closet?"