Bound by Terms, Not Trust

I wake to the whisper of wind against my window, a steady hush-hush like the world is trying to lull me into peace. It fails. I slept, technically. But not well.

All night, my thoughts churned: Ethan’s avoidance, his cold deflections, the strange warmth I felt when he brushed my hand at dinner—and the damn ring still clinging to my finger like it belongs there.
If we’re mates, I think, curling my fingers into a fist, shouldn’t I feel more? Shouldn’t he?

Maybe there's something wrong with me. Or maybe… I'm just not meant to know yet.

I dress in black slacks and a slate-blue blouse that Adrienne laid out for me before dawn. Something tasteful and calm. For today’s meeting, appearance matters. Not just to show strength—but to hide weakness.

The council room is located in one of the estate’s oldest wings. Tall windows line the stone walls, flooding the chamber with cold light. A long oak table sits in the center, polished to a mirror shine. On one end, Alpha Theron and my father, Beta Ronan. On the other—Ethan and his mother, Luna Maia.

She wears a navy blazer, her presence sharp as a blade. Her son sits beside her, as confident and unreadable as ever. He doesn’t look at me as I enter. Not even a glance.

Good.

I slide into my seat beside my father, catching the stiffness in his shoulders. The air is thick with old wounds and unspoken rules. Despite the engagement, no one here truly trusts each other.

Maia speaks first. “Let’s begin.”

The negotiation starts with the obvious: territory. Trade routes. Shared borders. Both sides argue, dance, deflect. My father insists on maintaining patrol rights near the western ridges, citing tradition. Maia counters with economic leverage—Nightbane's larger resources and better-trained soldiers.

Ethan interjects only when necessary. His tone is cool, assertive. But I watch his fingers drum the table, the only sign of his impatience. Or maybe nerves.

“We’ll agree to the western ridge patrols,” Maia says eventually, “but in exchange, we want full rights to the Silverpine River access point. No tolls.”

Father bristles. “That gives you direct access to our inner towns.”

Theron leans forward, voice like gravel. “And what would you propose as an alternative, Luna?”

She smiles, but there's no warmth in it. “Trust.”

I almost laugh.

Instead, I say, “If you’re asking us to hand over a key artery of our territory, trust won’t cut it. We need assurance.”

Ethan’s eyes flick to me. The first real look since I walked in.

“A joint patrol unit,” he says. “Mixed wolves from both packs. Every border. Every outpost. Shared command.”

It’s a compromise. A good one.

Theron grunts, unimpressed, but nods. “We’ll consider it.”

By the time we reach the marriage terms, the tension has thickened like fog.

“Selene will move to the Nightbane territory following the ceremony,” Maia says, not even asking—just stating it. “We expect a full transition. Permanently.”

“No,” my father says quickly. “We’ll alternate stays. Six months in each territory. She has obligations here.”

Ethan finally speaks, voice low. “That makes her seem like a political pawn. Not a partner.”

“Isn’t that what we are?” I say, sharper than intended.

He looks at me. Really looks this time. “I didn’t ask for this either.”

My breath catches.

“Then why agree to it?” I ask, softer now. “Why not say no?”

He hesitates. “Because people I trust told me I should. But I’m still looking for a reason not to.”

My pulse spikes. That invisible pull between us—that gravity I’ve tried to deny—flares to life again. Why does he have to say things like that? Why does it sound like a challenge and a confession all at once?

I can’t answer. Not without unraveling.

After the meeting ends, the room clears in tense silence. The deal is far from finished, but the outlines are taking shape.

I step outside, needing air. The pine trees sway in the distance like they know something I don’t.

If he’s my mate, I think again, why does it all feel so… wrong?

Maybe fate doesn’t feel like falling in love.

Maybe it feels like falling, period.

I start back toward the estate, feet crunching over the gravel path. The cold bites my cheeks, but I barely feel it. I don’t want to go inside. Not yet. But I don’t want to be seen either, not like this—confused, spiraling, uncertain.

I drift toward the west wing. It’s quieter here, used mostly for storage and visiting dignitaries. I’m not sure why I come this way—until I hear voices around the bend.

I pause, back pressing against the stone wall, heart ticking faster.

Ethan.

And another man. Older, by the sound of his voice. Not someone from my pack. Possibly a Nightbane advisor.

“I’m telling you,” the stranger says, his voice calm and deliberate, “there is a way out of this marriage that doesn’t involve burning the treaty. We make a concession—offer them expanded trade access, maybe allow partial jurisdiction over the neutral borders. Something that feels like a win.”

A silence.

Then Ethan speaks, voice low and tight. “You really think Theron would agree to that? He’s not a man who trades pride for farmland.”

“Maybe not. But he’s desperate for this alliance. That gives us leverage. We pull back from the engagement and pivot to a diplomatic union. No marriage, no fated ties, no long-term entanglements.”

“And Selene?” Ethan’s voice is quieter this time.

“What about her?”

Another pause. Too long.

“She’s... different than I expected.”

The man’s tone sharpens, almost warning. “Don’t let feelings cloud strategy, Alpha. Your father taught you better. You start caring, you start falling—that’s when power slips through your fingers.”

He exhales. “There are other options. If you want to preserve the pact, we can select someone else from her pack. A cousin. A lesser daughter. Someone more... flexible. Combine that with trade expansion, and Theron might take the deal.”

I reel back like I’ve been slapped.

A lesser daughter.

A replacement.

I feel the ring on my finger like it’s grown heavier, pulling at my hand like a shackle.

“She’s different than I expected.”

My chest tightens.

Then why not fight for me? Why search for a way out the second there’s another path?

I slip away, back through the garden shadows, each step slow and silent. I don’t want them to hear me. I don’t want Ethan to see the look on my face—because I don’t even know what I’d say.

A diplomatic union. A different girl. A strategy over a soul.

When I reach the far side of the garden, I finally let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

Above me, the moon peers through the clouds like a silent witness.

And suddenly I wonder if this bond I’m starting to feel… is only mine.