Chapter Eight: I Kissed Him

Nico’s POV

Time froze. My feet felt glued to the marble floor, unable to move, unable to breathe. My heart clenched painfully inside my chest as if it were being squeezed by an unseen hand.

It was him.

“Nelson…” I whispered his name in a tone so weak it barely left my lips. Tears burned at the corners of my eyes, threatening to spill.

“Hello, Nico.” His voice was calm, steady, but his eyes betrayed something deeper. He lifted his left hand and gave me a casual wave, as though we were strangers meeting after years, not enemies tangled in wounds too deep to heal.

For a moment, I thought he wasn’t real—that I had conjured him from my own desperate longing. But then Clara quietly excused herself, slipping away, and reality anchored me. Nelson was here. Flesh and blood.

My father’s gaze found me across the hall. A look that said it all: you are married now. He turned and left, his presence like ice sliding down my spine, leaving chills in his wake.

And just like that, it was only Nelson and me.

We stood in the empty hallway, the silence stretching heavy and sharp. His eyes met mine, and I couldn’t tell what I saw reflected there. Was it pain? Disappointment? Anger?

Why had he come back?

A thousand questions swirled in my head, but my lips refused to move.

“If you need my help, you can always tell me.” His voice cut through the stillness. Then, without another glance, he turned, his broad shoulders retreating with each step he took away from me.

“Wait!” The word escaped me before I could stop it. My feet carried me forward, toward him.

“I’m—” My voice broke, and before I could finish, his hand wrapped around my waist with startling force. He pulled me against him, and I stumbled into the solid warmth of his chest.

My breath hitched.

And then his lips met mine.

There was no hesitation. No gentleness. His mouth claimed mine with raw intensity, pouring into the kiss everything I had denied, everything I had broken between us. My lips trembled against his, but I didn’t push him away. My body betrayed me, leaning into him, aching for more.

For that one stolen moment, I was no princess, no Luna, no daughter bound by duty. I was just a woman who wanted the man she could never have.

And then he released me. Just like that.

He walked away, leaving me gasping, my fingers touching my lips as if to confirm the kiss had really happened. My chest heaved, my heart racing faster than it ever had.

At the end of the corridor, I caught sight of my father. His face was hard, his eyes cold, but I saw it—the disappointment. The silent condemnation. He turned away without a word.

I wanted to run after Nelson. To tell him everything. To apologize. To explain that I hadn’t meant to hurt him, that I was helpless, trapped. But the truth was bitter. I had already shattered him once, and no amount of explanation would ever fix what I had broken.

“What would you like to eat?” Clara’s voice startled me. She appeared at my side, her gentle tone pulling me back from my thoughts.

I turned toward her slowly, trying to compose myself, but the sadness in my eyes betrayed me. My hair fell into my face as I moved, strands brushing across damp cheeks.

“Are you crying?” she asked softly, tilting her head.

It was only then that I realized I was. That I had been crying all along. Because losing him—again—hurt more than I could admit.

Was this love? Or was it something else? Limerence, maybe. An obsession. A cruel yearning for someone I couldn’t have.

Clara reached for my hand, her warmth pressing against my cold fingers. She squeezed firmly, grounding me as I swayed under the weight of emotions I couldn’t name. She guided me gently toward my chambers, my feet dragging on the marble tiles a little as my white wedding gown flowed on the floor.

“You don’t need anyone to remind you,” Clara said once we entered the room, her voice steady, almost too steady, “you are now the Luna of the Dawnhill Pack. My lady, you must get yourself together.”

Her words cut. Get it together.

How could I when everything inside me was chaos? When my thoughts, my heart, my soul—all of it was torn apart?

But I forced a smile, faint and broken. “Okay.”

Clara carefully removed my wedding gown, folding the delicate fabric with reverence before laying it on the bed. I stood in silence, my body heavy, my mind numb.

The sudden blare of a car horn outside jolted me awake. My temples throbbed as if someone had hammered nails into my skull.

“What the hell,” I muttered, dragging my hand across my face. My legs circled restlessly around the bed, ruining the neatly arranged sheets as I collapsed onto them.

The honk came again, louder, reverberating in my ears until I wanted to scream. My day was already a mess, and now even this…

I lay staring at the ceiling, my mind blank, hollow. Perhaps it was the exhaustion. Perhaps it was the migraine pounding at the edges of my brain. Either way, I couldn’t think.

The door creaked open, and Clara stepped inside, dressed neatly, her composure perfect as always.

“Going somewhere?” I asked faintly.

She shook her head, her eyes dropping. “Alpha Rowen’s driver is here already.”

The words were a knife twisting inside me.

“I told him to come tomorrow,” I whispered sharply. My jaw clenched. My pulse quickened. “Not today.”

Rowen did as he pleased. Always. Without thought for me. Without care for my wishes.

I turned toward Clara, then back to the dress laid out for me. A wicked thought crossed my mind. If Rowen wanted me rushed, I would not go quietly.

I dressed deliberately, each movement slow, intentional. The white short gown hugged my waist, accentuating every curve, the neckline dipping just enough to reveal a whisper of cleavage. A swipe of lip gloss completed the picture—a mask of perfection hiding the storm beneath.

I paused at the mirror, the towering glass reflecting the woman I barely recognized. She looked regal. Powerful. But broken, too.

I stepped into the hall, my father waiting. His eyes scanned me, unreadable as always.

“Make sure you succumb to Rowen,” he said coldly. “He is now your husband. Your Alpha.”

The words struck like daggers. Succumb? As though I were nothing more than an offering, a possession to be claimed. My brows knitted, my lips parting in disbelief.

“Father…” My voice cracked. “Did you really just—”

“Nico?” His sharp tone cut me off. “Did you hear me?”

I bit down on my tongue, forcing the words out. “Yes, Father.”

Another honk. Louder. Angrier. My spine stiffened with rage.

I moved to the window, my heels clicking sharply against the tiles. The white car waited below, sleek and polished, its headlights glowing amber. The rims glimmered with engraved words: Luna Nico.

A fleeting smile touched my lips, but it died just as quickly.

I bowed to my father once more, before walking out. Clara opened the door of the car for me, her face pale with worry.

The interior was plush, the seats soft enough to swallow me whole. Clara slid in beside me, sighing in relief.

I closed my eyes, exhaustion pulling at me. The ride blurred, until the car finally rolled to a stop.

“We have arrived, my lady,” the driver announced.

I opened my eyes, staring at the towering gates of the Dawnhill Pack. My heart pounded, fear rushing like ice through my veins. My hands trembled, cold and unsteady.

Clara shifted beside me, oblivious to the storm raging inside me.

No one—not even her—knew what I was about to do.

Because I had a plan. A dangerous plan. A mission only I could execute.

And it would begin the moment I stepped inside.