Chapter Seven: My Nemesis

Nico’s POV

Instead of a mating ceremony, what did my father do? He organized a proper wedding.

Not a celebration of bonds. Not the sacred ritual of two wolves pledging their souls before the Moon Goddess. No—just a human-like, white-dress-and-veil wedding.

Maybe because I was never truly meant to be someone’s mate. Maybe because I wasn’t enough to be chosen.

I was the unchosen one—the girl raised to be a pawn, the daughter trained to be sacrificed, the wolf who craved love but was denied it. I was the solution to the kingdom’s problems and yet the sacrifice handed to secure its safety.

The thought made my chest pound as if my heart wanted to rip out of me. And no one—no priest, no warrior, no guest in that hall—spoke about the guilt that came with rejecting a good man. No one mentioned how it rotted you from the inside, how it clawed at your conscience even when you had no choice.

The music swelled, and I began the walk down the aisle.

The red carpet beneath my feet felt like fire, scorching me with every step. Instead of the sacred glow of the Moon blessing a mating ceremony, I was surrounded by chandeliers and flowers—roses that mocked me with their fragile beauty.

I thought about running. Gods, I had thought about it all night. Escaping the palace. Choosing myself. But I couldn’t. My decision was already made for me.

The kingdom’s safety over my own freedom. My people over my soul.

When I lifted my eyes, they landed on him.

Alpha Rowen.

His icy blue gaze snared me instantly, pulling me deeper, drowning me. He stood tall at the altar, sharp in his suit, his jaw strong, and his expression unreadable. A tattoo peeked faintly from beneath the white collar of his shirt, hidden, restrained—like the man himself.

I tightened my grip on the bouquet in my hands until my knuckles whitened. The flowers became my only weapon, the only thing stopping me from falling apart in front of everyone.

“Do you, Princess Nico of the Silver Crest Pack, accept Alpha Rowen of the Dawnhill Pack as your husband? To honor him, respect him, and stand by his side as his Luna?”

The priest’s voice echoed through the hall, bouncing against marble walls and settling heavily in my chest.

My father’s gaze burned into me. I turned slightly and saw his smile—a smile so wide, so proud, as if my marriage was the victory he had been waiting for all his life. His daughter, married off to an Alpha, a union meant to erase the bloodshed that stalked our dynasty.

For him, it was triumph.

For me, it was a coffin.

My throat went dry. I swallowed hard, shifting my eyes from my father back to Rowen, then out into the sea of faces. And that’s when I saw him.

Nelson.

His grin split the crowd, arrogant and knowing. His eyes locked with mine, and suddenly, the murmurs of the guests roared in my ears, deafening me.

“Princess Nico?” the priest repeated, his tone sharper this time.

I hadn’t answered.

I opened my mouth—and then disaster struck.

“Yes, I accept Alpha Nelson as my husband and myself as his Luna.”

The wrong name.

The words slipped out before I realized, tangled in the mess of my thoughts. The crowd gasped, whispers igniting like wildfire. Rowen’s stare hardened, ice cold, and the priest froze, his lips parting in shock.

Heat crawled up my neck as I realized my mistake. Clara had shoved a small white card into my hands before I walked in, and I hadn’t even looked at it. My gaze fell on it now—mocking me with the vows I should have said.

“This day, I pledge to become a wife and a dutiful Luna to the Dawnhill Pack…” I forced out, glaring at the words written on the page. My jaw clenched so hard I wished I could crush the card and hurl it into Rowen’s too-perfect face.

But instead, I smiled.

Rowen leaned in just enough for his words to slice through me like steel. “You look stunning.”

It should have sounded like a compliment, but his voice was as cold as the winter wind. His grip on my hands tightened, almost bruising.

“You’re hurting me,” I whispered, my eyes darting up to meet his.

He smirked before loosening his hold, as if to remind me that he could crush me anytime he wanted.

Later, as servants carried the bags Clara had carefully packed the night before, guilt twisted in my stomach.

The night before—the night Nelson had come to my chambers.

I had spat venom at him, calling him a whore, accusing him of taking advantage of me while I was drunk. I wanted to believe those words, to shield myself with them, but deep down, I knew the truth was murkier.

He had stopped me. He had said no. He had walked away.

And his last words lingered still. “I’m sorry. I promise never to bother you again.”

I hadn’t understood them then. But today, I did.

Because when I asked Clara about Nelson that morning, she told me he had left the palace in the middle of the night with his men. My father—the Alpha—had even waved him goodbye.

And yet, everything about this wedding bore his fingerprints. The decorations, the menu, the entire arrangement—it was all Nelson’s doing.

“Cruel,” I muttered under my breath. “How cruel of him.”

Clara, standing nearby, wiped her tears discreetly, but I noticed.

“Clara!” I snapped, masking my pain with a playful glare. “You’re coming with me, silly.” I tapped her forehead lightly, as if the gesture could erase the sadness from her face.

She smiled faintly, stepping toward the car.

But then—his voice cut through the air.

“She can’t ride with us.”

Rowen.

He stood there, sharp and unbothered, his expression unreadable. But his words dripped with disdain.

“She’s just a maid. She can walk behind the car.”

I froze. Clara’s face fell, humiliation flashing in her eyes.

“What do you mean?” I demanded, my voice sharper than intended. “She’s my handmaid. She stays with me.”

But Rowen didn’t flinch. He looked right through me, right through Clara, and repeated his command.

The crowd shifted awkwardly, whispers starting again. My blood boiled. This was my wedding day, my humiliation, and now he dared to turn it into Clara’s as well.

Anger surged. I stepped out of the car, my gown dragging heavily against the stones. “Forget it. Send your driver to pick us up later,” I snapped. “Come, Clara.”

Her eyes widened as I pulled her with me, away from Nelson’s orders, away from the car. For a fleeting second, I caught the smirk tugging at his lips—the smug satisfaction that I had defied him, and yet somehow, he had still won.

“Insolent,” I muttered under my breath, my fingers twisting in the fabric of my white gown. It felt like chains around my body, heavy and suffocating.

“Fuck love,” I whispered, the bitterness sharp on my tongue.

“Go back to the car.”

The voice that answered wasn’t Rowen’s.

I froze. My heart dropped to my stomach. Slowly, I turned.

And there he was.

The one man I had prayed never to see again, standing in the shadows as if the Moon herself had dragged him here.

It was him, my……