"You're not supposed to be here." My stepmother's nails bit into my wrist before I made it past the service entrance.
"Let go."
"The wedding starts in twenty minutes." Her smile didn't move. "You show your face out there, and I'll tell security you stole that dress."
I yanked my arm back. "I'm not here for the wedding."
"Then what?"
"Mom's formula. The jasmine one. I know you took it."
She laughed. Actually laughed. "That old thing? Sweetheart, we sold the rights two years ago. Paid for Iris's debut dress."
My throat closed. "You had no right—"
"I had every right. Your mother left everything to your father. Your father left everything to me." She stepped closer. Her perfume was too sweet. Wrong. "You want to make a scene? Go ahead. These people eat girls like you for sport."
Someone grabbed my other arm. Iron grip. A handler in black, no expression.
"Ms. Crowne wants you upstairs," he said.
"I don't know any Crowne—"
"Now."
He hauled me through a side hallway and up a service staircase. My stepmother's heels clicked behind us. I tried to dig in. He lifted me off the ground for three steps and kept walking. The door opened. I stumbled, caught the vanity. The lock clicked.
Cream carpet. A window over the garden: chairs, an arch of night-blooming roses, and my stepsister Iris in a wedding dress that looked like spilled moonlight.
She turned. Pale. "What is she doing here?"
My stepmother leaned on the door. "Change of plans. Kael Mercer's people told me the truth. He doesn't want a Crowne alliance. He wants a hostage clause. Someone expendable."
Iris's voice shook. "You're not putting me in that contract. You promised—"
"I promised you a good match. This isn't it. He's got a trial in three months. If he loses, his cousins execute him. Whoever he's married to might go down with him. We already took five million. Non-refundable." Her eyes slid to me. "But we do have another daughter."
I hit the vanity. "No."
"You want your mother's formula back? The rights, the notes, everything. Walk downstairs. Say the vows. Three months. If he survives, you divorce. If he doesn't—" She shrugged. "You weren't doing much with your life anyway."
I shoved her hand away. "Go to hell."
"Iris, hold her."
Iris moved. I didn't think she would. She pinned my arms behind me, shaking, and didn't let go. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Lena, but I can't do this—"
A syringe came out of the purse.
I threw my weight back, smashed a champagne flute, and held the jagged stem out. "Stay back."
My stepmother smiled. "Look out the window. Half of them are wolves. You walk out without a ring, and I'll tell them you tried to steal from the Mercer family."
Blood welled in my palm.
Someone knocked. Three raps. "Ms. Crowne? It's time."
"Iris, put on Lena's dress. Lena, you're wearing the gown. Four minutes." She turned her phone: my mother's notebook, her handwriting still on the page. "I'll burn every page. Or you walk downstairs, say six words, and get it all back."
"Lena. Decide."
I dropped the glass.
They dressed me like a doll. The gown was too tight in the waist, too loose in the bust. The hem dragged. She pinned the veil until the clips scraped my scalp.
"Smile. You're a bride."
I didn't.
White roses. Funeral smell. "When he asks, you say I do."
"Yes."
They walked me downstairs. The hallway was lined with portraits of wolves—actual wolves—gold eyes, bared teeth. The music started. That slow march. The doors opened.
I stepped into the garden.
Every head turned. A hundred people, maybe more. I couldn't see their faces. The sun was setting behind them, turning everything into silhouettes. I could feel them watching. Something animal under the perfume, hair up on my arms.
The aisle was candles in glass. The roses on the arch were blood-dark. At the front, standing with his back to me, was a man in a black suit.
Kael Mercer.
He didn't turn around.
I stepped on the hem. Caught myself. Stopped beside him.
He turned his head. I'd seen him in the tabloids. They didn't do him justice. Tall. Dark hair, dark eyes. A scar through one eyebrow. Too still, like he was holding something back.
"You're not Vera Crowne."
"No."
"Who are you?"
"Lena Vale."
"Why are you wearing her dress?"
"Because they sold me. She took your deposit. She was going to send Iris. Your people said the contract was dangerous. So she sent me. Call it off if you want. I'm not going back in that house."
Whispers. Third row: a blonde in silver staring like I'd spat on her shoes. Vera Crowne.
An older man in gray stood. "She's not pack. You can't marry a human."
"The contract allows it. Clause seven."
"That clause was meant for allied families—"
"Sit down, Marcus."
The air went heavy. The candles flickered. He sat.
Kael told the officiant, "Skip to the vows."
"Do you, Kael Mercer—"
"I do."
"Do you—"
"Wait," I said. "I want it in writing. My mother's work. If I do this, I get it back."
His mouth almost moved. "You're negotiating. Here."
"Yes."
He handed a phone to the front row. "Addendum. Perfume formulas under Mara Vale. Full rights to Lena Vale upon completion. Before we finish."
Typing. Then: "Do you, Lena Vale, take this man—"
"Why me?" I asked.
"Because you're angry. And I need someone who won't break."
Someone screamed.
Vera walked the aisle in silver. "You can't. The alliance—"
"Your father tried to bribe two council members. That's treason. There is no alliance."
"And you think a random human will save you? When the trial comes, they'll tear you apart, and she won't know why."
"At least she won't stab me in the back first."
She looked at me. "Lena. You have no idea what you just walked into. Three months. That's all you have. When you fail, I'll be waiting."
She left. The garden went quiet.
"Finish it," Kael said.
"Do you, Lena Vale—"
Something desperate in his eyes.
"I do."
He slid a silver ring with a dark stone onto my finger. Too big. It spun. The moment his skin touched mine, a pull hit my chest—something in me recognizing something in him. His pupils blew.
"That'll hold. For now."
He didn't let go. Wood smoke. Wilder. "Three months. You survive, I'll give you anything. If you run, I'll find you."
"Don't threaten me."
"It's not a threat."
A folder. Signed. Witnessed. Everything my mother made.
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet."
He walked toward the house. The crowd parted. I stood in the too-tight dress with a folder I didn't want.
Noah Pike—brown hair, sharp suit, kind eyes—touched my shoulder. I flinched. "Kael's lawyer. Sort of. Start reading that contract. All of it. You just signed your name to something that's going to get ugly fast."
He walked away before I could answer.
I looked at the ring spinning on my finger.
Kael stood in the doorway. Last light in his eyes.
"Welcome to the family, Mrs. Mercer."