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"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. I twisted, but the grip was iron. A man in a black suit. No expression.
"Ms. Crowne wants you upstairs," he said.
"I don't know any Crowne—"
"Now."
He hauled me through a side hallway, up a service staircase. My stepmother's heels clicked behind us, keeping pace. I tried to dig in, but he just lifted me off the ground for three steps and kept walking.
"Where are we going?"
No answer.
"I said where—"
He shoved open a door. Pushed me inside. I stumbled, caught myself on the edge of a vanity. The door shut. Locked.
The room was white. Cream carpet, cream walls, a window that looked down on the garden where they'd set up the ceremony. Rows of chairs. An arch wrapped in night-blooming roses. People in tailored suits and dresses that cost more than I made in six months.
And my stepsister, Iris, standing in front of a full-length mirror in a wedding dress that looked like spilled moonlight.
She turned. Saw me. Her face went pale.
"What is she doing here?"
My stepmother shut the door behind her, leaning against it. "Change of plans, darling."
"What?"
"You're not going down there."
Iris blinked. "What are you talking about? I'm getting married in fifteen minutes—"
"No. You're not." My stepmother's voice was flat. "Kael Mercer's people just told me the truth. He doesn't want a Crowne alliance. He wants a hostage clause. Someone expendable. Someone whose family won't start a blood feud if things go wrong."
My stomach dropped.
"You're not putting me in that contract," Iris said. Her voice shook. "You promised me—"
"I promised you a good match. This isn't it. The Mercer pack is unstable. Kael's got a trial coming up in three months. If he loses, his cousins will execute him. Whoever he's married to might go down with him."
"Then call it off—"
"We can't. We already took the deposit. Five million. Non-refundable." My stepmother's eyes slid to me. "But we do have another daughter."
I backed up. Hit the vanity. "No."
"You want your mother's formula back? I'll give it to you. All of it. The rights, the original notes, everything. You just have to do this one thing."
"You're insane."
"I'm practical." She crossed the room, fast. Grabbed my chin. Her fingers were cold. "You go down there, you say the vows, you smile for the photos. You play the part for three months. If Kael survives his trial, you can divorce him and walk away clean. If he doesn't—" She shrugged. "Well. You weren't doing much with your life anyway."
I shoved her hand away. "Go to hell."
"Iris, hold her."
My stepsister moved. I didn't think she would. But she did. She grabbed my arms, pinned them behind me, and I felt her shaking but she didn't let go.
"I'm sorry," Iris whispered. "I'm so sorry, Lena, but I can't— I can't do this—"
My stepmother pulled something out of her purse. A syringe.
"What is that—"
"Just a sedative. You'll be calm. You'll say yes. You won't embarrass us."
I threw my weight back. Iris yelped, lost her grip. I spun, grabbed the nearest thing— a champagne flute on the vanity— and smashed it against the edge. Glass exploded. I held the broken stem up, jagged edge out.
"Stay back."
My stepmother stopped. Looked at the glass. Looked at me. Then she smiled.
"You think you're brave? You think you're going to fight your way out of here?" She took a step forward. "Look out the window, Lena. Look at the people down there. Half of them are wolves. Real wolves. The kind that'll smell your fear from a hundred feet away and enjoy it. You walk out of this room without a ring on your finger, and I'll tell them you tried to steal from the Mercer family. You know what they do to thieves?"
My hand was shaking. The glass bit into my palm. Blood welled up, hot and slick.
"I'll scream."
"Go ahead. No one's going to help you."
Someone knocked on the door. Three sharp raps.
"Ms. Crowne? It's time."
My stepmother didn't look away from me. "Iris, put on Lena's dress. Lena, you're wearing the wedding gown. We have four minutes."
"I'm not—"
"You are." She pulled out her phone. Turned the screen toward me. A photo. My mother's notebook. The one with the formulas written in her handwriting, the ink faded but still legible. "I'll burn it. Right now. I'll send someone to the storage unit and they'll burn every single page. Or you can walk downstairs, say six words, and get it all back."
I couldn't breathe. The room was too small. The dress was too white. Iris was crying, pulling at her zipper, and my stepmother was already moving toward me with that terrible smile.
"Lena. Decide."
I dropped the glass.
They dressed me like a doll. Pulled off my jeans and sweater, yanked the gown over my head. It was too tight in the waist. Too loose in the bust. Iris was taller. The hem dragged. My stepmother pinned the veil into my hair so hard I felt the clips scrape my scalp.
"Smile," she said. "You're a bride."
I didn't smile.
She handed me a bouquet. White roses. They smelled like funeral flowers.
"Walk. Don't run. Don't talk to anyone. When the officiant asks if you take him, you say I do. Understand?"
I didn't answer.
She grabbed my face again. Squeezed. "Understand?"
"Yes."
"Good girl."
They walked me downstairs. Through a hallway lined with portraits of wolves— actual wolves, not people— with gold eyes and bared teeth. The music started. That awful 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 and glare. But I could feel them watching. Could feel something else, too. Something animal. Something that made the hair on my arms stand up.
I walked.
The aisle was lined with candles in glass jars. The roses on the arch were blood-dark in the fading light. And at the front, standing with his back to me, was a man in a black suit.
Kael Mercer.
He didn't turn around.
I kept walking. The dress was too long. I stepped on the hem. Stumbled. Caught myself. Kept going.
Ten feet away. Five.
I stopped next to him.
He turned his head. Looked at me.
I'd seen his photo in the tabloids. They didn't do him justice. He was tall. Taller than I expected. Dark hair, dark eyes. A scar that cut through one eyebrow. And something wrong with the way he held himself. Too still. Too controlled. Like he was holding something back that wanted out.
His eyes traveled down. The dress. The too-tight waist. The dragging hem.
"You're not Vera Crowne," he said.
His voice was low. Quiet. But everyone heard it. The whispers started immediately.
"No."
"Who are you?"
"Lena Vale."
"Why are you wearing her dress?"
"Because they sold me."
His eyes narrowed. "What?"
"My stepmother took your deposit. She was going to send Iris. But your people told her the contract was dangerous. So she sent me instead." I met his stare. "If you don't want me, fine. Call it off. But I'm not going back in that house."
He didn't move. Didn't blink. Just looked at me like he was deciding something.
Then he looked past me. At the crowd. At someone in the third row.
I followed his gaze. A woman. Blonde. Beautiful. Dressed in silver. She was staring at me like I'd just spat on her shoes.
Vera Crowne.
"She's not pack," someone said from the front row. An older man. Gray hair, gray suit. "You can't marry a human under pack law."
"The contract allows it," Kael said. "Clause seven."
"That clause was meant for allied families—"
"It doesn't specify."
The older man stood. "This is a mistake."
"Sit down, Marcus."
"You need a proper match. Someone with bloodline. Someone who can stabilize your claim—"
"I said sit down."
The air changed. Got heavier. The candles flickered. The man in the gray suit went pale. He sat.
Kael looked at the officiant. An old woman in a long coat, holding a leather-bound book.
"Start the ceremony," he said.
She hesitated. "Alpha, are you certain—"
"Now."
She opened the book. Her hands were shaking.
"Dearly beloved—"
"Skip to the vows," Kael said.
She swallowed. Turned several pages. "Do you, Kael Mercer, take this woman—"
"I do."
She turned to me. Her eyes were pale gray. Almost colorless. "Do you—"
"Wait," I said.
Kael's head turned. Slow. "What?"
"I want it in writing. The formula. My mother's work. Everything. If I do this, I want proof that I'll get it back."
His mouth almost moved. Almost smiled. "You're negotiating? Here?"
"Yes."
"In front of a hundred witnesses."
"Yes."
He stared at me. Then he pulled something from his pocket. A phone. Handed it to someone in the front row. "Draw up an addendum. Transfer of intellectual property. Perfume formulas under the name—" He looked at me. "What was your mother's name?"
"Mara Vale."
"Mara Vale. Full rights transferred to Lena Vale upon completion of the marriage contract. Get it done before we finish."
The man with the phone nodded. Started typing.
Kael looked back at the officiant. "Continue."
She cleared her throat. "Do you, Lena Vale, take this man—"
I looked at him. At the scar. At the too-still way he stood.
"Why?" I said. "Why me?"
"Because you're angry," he said. "And I need someone who won't break."
The officiant was still waiting.
I thought about my mother's notebook. About the jasmine formula she'd spent two years perfecting. About walking back into that house and watching my stepmother smile.
I opened my mouth.
Someone screamed.
The crowd erupted. People on their feet, shouting. I spun around.
Vera Crowne was walking down the aisle. Fast. Her silver dress caught the light. Her face was a mask.
She stopped three feet away. Looked at Kael.
"You can't do this," she said. "The alliance—"
"There is no alliance," Kael said. "Your family broke the terms last week."
"That was a misunderstanding—"
"Your father tried to bribe two council members. That's not a misunderstanding. That's treason."
Her jaw tightened. "And you think marrying some random human is going to save you? She doesn't know our laws. She doesn't know what you are. When the trial comes, they'll tear you apart, and she won't even know why."
"Maybe," Kael said. "But at least she won't stab me in the back first."
Vera's eyes went to me. Cold. Measuring.
"What's your name?"
"Lena."
"Lena." She smiled. It didn't reach her eyes. "You have no idea what you just walked into."
She turned. Walked back down the aisle. The crowd parted for her. When she reached the last row, she stopped. Looked back.
"Three months," she said. "That's all you have. And when you fail—" Her smile widened. "I'll be waiting."
She left. The garden went quiet.
Kael looked at the officiant. "Finish it."
She nodded. Stammered through the rest. Asked the question again.
"Do you, Lena Vale—"
I looked at Kael. He was watching me. Still too still. But something in his eyes— something desperate.
"I do," I said.
"Then by the authority granted to me by the Northbridge Pack Council, I pronounce you married. Alpha, you may—"
Kael pulled a ring from his pocket. Not a wedding band. Something else. Silver, with a dark stone that caught the dying light. He took my hand.
The moment his skin touched mine, the air shifted.
I felt it in my chest. In my throat. A pull. Like something inside me recognized something inside him.
He felt it too. I saw his pupils dilate. Saw his breath catch.
He slid the ring onto my finger. It was too big. It spun loose.
"That'll hold," he said. His voice was rough. "For now."
The crowd erupted again. Applause. Forced. Uncertain.
Kael didn't let go of my hand.
He leaned in. Close enough that I could smell him. Wood smoke and something darker. Wilder.
"Three months," he said quietly. "You survive three months, and I'll give you anything you want. But if you run—" His grip tightened. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to feel. "I'll find you. Understand?"
I pulled my hand back. "Don't threaten me."
"It's not a threat." He stepped back. Looked at someone over my shoulder. Nodded.
Two men in black suits moved forward. One of them handed Kael a folder.
He opened it. Held it out to me. "Your contract addendum. Signed. Witnessed. Everything your mother made is yours."
I took it. Looked at the signatures. The notary stamp. My hands were shaking.
"Thank you," I said.
"Don't thank me yet."
He turned. Started walking toward the house. The crowd parted.
I stood there. Alone. In a too-tight dress. Holding a folder and a bouquet I didn't want.
Someone touched my shoulder. I flinched.
It was the man from the front row. The one who'd typed up the addendum. Young. Maybe thirty. Brown hair, sharp suit, kind eyes.
"You should come inside," he said. "People are staring."
"Who are you?"
"Noah Pike. I'm Kael's lawyer. Sort of." He glanced around. Lowered his voice. "And if I were you, I'd start reading that contract. All of it. Because you just signed your name to something that's going to get very ugly very fast."
He walked away before I could answer.
I looked down at the folder. At the ring spinning loose on my finger.
Somewhere behind me, a door slammed.
I turned.
Kael was standing in the doorway of the house. Watching me. His eyes caught the last of the light.
Then he said, "Welcome to the family, Mrs. Mercer."