MATE

CHAPTER FOUR

The morning of the wedding arrived in a blur of white silk and frantic shouting. The Rose estate was transformed into a cathedral of luxury. The air was thick with the scent of a thousand white roses, a smell that now made Elena feel nauseous.

Elena was in the bridal suite, tasked with helping Vivian into her gown. The dress was a masterpiece of lace and pearls, fitting Vivian like a second skin.

"Tighter," Vivian snapped, glancing at herself in the mirror. "I want my waist to look nonexistent."

Elena pulled the laces of the corset, her movements mechanical. She looked at Vivian’s reflection—the smugness, the arrogance, the absolute certainty that she was untouchable.

"You look beautiful, Vivian," Elena said, her voice devoid of emotion.

"Of course I do. Now, get out. I need a moment of peace before I have to pretend to like that brute."

As soon as the door closed, Elena stepped back into the hallway. She waited. She knew Marcus was waiting in the gardens, and she knew the secret pact they had made.

An hour before the ceremony, the screaming started.

Elena entered the suite to find their stepmother, Beatrice, in a state of total collapse. The room was a disaster. The jewelry box was open, and the bridal veil was tossed on the floor.

"She's gone!" Beatrice shrieked, clutching her chest. "The window is open! She's left a note saying she can't go through with it! She's run off with that... that animal from the rival pack!"

Beatrice turned to Elena, her eyes wide with panic. The hatred she usually reserved for Elena was momentarily replaced by raw, calculating terror.

"We can't let this happen. If Justice Kane finds out his bride has jilted him for a rival, he will destroy this family. He will strip us of every asset, every acre of land. He'll hunt her down and kill her, and he'll kill us for the embarrassment."

Elena stood still, her face a mask of innocence. "What can we do?"

Beatrice stepped closer, her gaze scanning Elena. She looked at the girl she had spent a decade belittling, seeing not a daughter, but a tool.

"You," Beatrice whispered. "You have the same hair. The same build. With the veil and the heavy makeup, and the dim lighting of the chapel... he won't know. Not at first. We just need to get through the ceremony. Once the vows are spoken and the contract is signed, we can figure out a way to explain Vivian's 'sudden illness' or 'disappearance' later."

Elena felt a thrill of cold triumph. This was the moment.

"You want me to take her place?" Elena asked.

"I'm ordering you to," Beatrice snapped, the cruelty returning. "You owe this family everything. Now get in that dress before I throw you out on the street."

The transformation took two hours. They squeezed Elena into the corset, painting her face to mimic Vivian’s sharp features, though they couldn't hide the softness of Elena’s eyes. The heavy lace veil was dropped over her face, covering most of her features in a cloud of ivory lace.

As Elena walked down the aisle, the world seemed to slow down. The music was a low, haunting melody that vibrated in her bones. The guests were a blur of faces, but at the end of the aisle stood Justice Kane.

He was more imposing than the rumors suggested. He stood six-foot-four, with shoulders that seemed to block out the light. His suit was a midnight black that absorbed the surroundings. His face was a study in hard angles—a jawline that could cut glass, a straight, arrogant nose, and eyes the color of a storm at sea. He didn't look like a groom; he looked like a conqueror.

Elena’s heart hammered. She expected him to see through the ruse instantly. She expected the hatred and the immediate rejection. She was ready for it. She wanted the conflict; she wanted the chaos. She was used to it

As she reached the altar, Justice didn't speak. He didn't smile. He simply reached out and took her hand.

The moment his skin touched hers, the world exploded.

It wasn't a spark; it was a supernova. A jolt of pure, electric energy surged from his palm, racing up Elena’s arm and slamming into her chest. Her breath hitched, a soft moan escaping her lips. The air around them suddenly smelled of rain-drenched cedar and dark chocolate—a scent so potent it felt like a physical weight.

Beside her, she felt Justice stiffen. His grip tightened, not in aggression, but in shock. He pulled her closer, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply.

Elena looked up through the veil. Justice’s storm-grey eyes had shifted. A flash of gold flickered in his pupils—the mark of the wolf.

MATE.