The brass handle turned. The door swung wide, hitting the interior stopper with a dull thud. Kael stepped into the hallway, adjusting the lapels of his midnight-blue tuxedo. He didn’t flinch at the sight of me. He didn’t gasp at the blood blooming across the white carpet or the glass shards embedded in my shoe.

He looked at me as if I were a minor inconvenience he’d forgotten to clear from his schedule.

"You're early," Kael said. His voice was steady, devoid of the heat I’d heard just seconds ago. "The ceremony doesn't start for another forty minutes."

"I saw you," I whispered. My voice sounded thin, like dry parchment tearing. "I saw both of you."

Kael didn't blink. He took a step toward me, closing the distance until the scent of him—that heavy, cloying vanilla—swamped my senses. It wasn't just the cake anymore. It was the scent of Selene’s perfume, the smell of the lounge, the smell of betrayal. My stomach did a slow, sickening roll.

"And?" Kael asked.

He reached out. His hand moved toward my face. I tried to pull back, but my back hit the cold plaster of the hallway wall. He caught my jaw, his fingers digging into the bone.

"Don't touch me," I gritted out.

"I'll touch what belongs to me, Elora."

He tilted my head up. His thumb pressed into the corner of my mouth, forcing my lips apart. That’s when I saw it. On the back of his hand, right between the thumb and forefinger, was a fresh, angry crescent of purple marks. Teeth marks.

Selene had left her signature on him.

"You're hurting me," I said, though the physical pain in my jaw was nothing compared to the coldness in my chest.

"You're being dramatic. It's a wedding day requirement, I suppose." Kael’s eyes scanned my face, searching for tears that wouldn't come. "You look pale. It clashes with the dress."

"The dress is ruined," I said, my gaze flickering toward the open door where my reception gown lay trampled under Selene’s heels. "Everything is ruined."

Kael let out a short, sharp laugh. He released my jaw, but only to reach into the inner pocket of his jacket. He pulled out a folded sheaf of heavy cream paper.

"Nothing is ruined unless I say it is," he countered.

He snapped the paper open. Before I could react, he slapped it against my cheek, the sharp edge of the vellum stinging my skin. He held it there, pinning it against my face for a heartbeat before letting it flutter down. I caught it reflexively, my blood-stained fingers leaving smeared red prints on the pristine document.

"What is this?" I asked, looking down.

"A transfer of title," Kael replied. "And a non-disclosure agreement regarding the Thorne family’s private interests."

I scanned the lines. My breath caught. "The North Ridge? Kael, that's my father's land. That’s the entire Vance estate. You want me to sign over the deed before we even reach the altar?"

"I don't want you to, Elora. I'm telling you to."

"This wasn't part of the pre-nuptial agreement."

"The terms changed the moment you decided to eavesdrop at the door." Kael leaned in, his shadow swallowing me. "Consider it the price of my silence. You sign the land over to me, you walk down that aisle, and we play the part of the happy couple. You get the Thorne name. I get the Ridge."

"And Selene?" I hissed. "Do you get her too? Is she part of the 'private interests'?"

Kael’s expression didn't shift. He didn't even have the decency to look ashamed. "Your sister provides things you can't. She’s... vibrant. You're a statue, Elora. A beautiful, boring, porcelain statue."

I looked down, my eyes fixing on his wrist. There it was. The silver cufflink I’d spent three months searching for. I’d had it custom-engraved with his initials and our wedding date. It caught the light, gleaming mockingly against his starched white cuff. I wanted to rip it off. I wanted to tear the fabric until his skin bled.

"I won't do it," I said, my voice gaining a sudden, sharp edge. "I won't sign. I'll go out there right now. I'll tell the guests. I'll tell the press. I'll tell your father."

Kael’s hand shot out again. This time, he didn't grab my jaw. He wrapped his fingers around my throat, not squeezing enough to choke, but enough to remind me of the power imbalance.

"You'll tell no one," he hissed. "You think my father cares who I fuck? He cares about the Ridge. He cares about the merger. If you ruin this, Elora, you won't just be a jilted bride. You'll be a destitute one."

I twisted my neck, jerking my head to the side to break his contact. My skin burned where he’d touched me. The vanilla scent was thick enough to taste now, coating my tongue like grease. I felt a surge of bile rise in my throat.

"I'd rather be a beggar than your wife," I spat.

Kael stepped back, smoothing the front of his jacket. He looked at me with a chilling, detached curiosity, as if he were observing a bug under glass.

"You think you have a choice?" he asked. "Look at your hand, Elora. You're already bleeding out. You’re weak."

"I am not weak."

"Then prove it. Put on the mask. Go back to the dressing room, have Maya fix that foot, and get to the staging area."

"And if I don't?"

Kael turned toward the end of the hallway, where two of his personal security guards stood like granite pillars near the garden entrance. He didn't look back at me when he spoke.

"If you're not at the top of those stairs in twenty minutes, I’ll simplify the process," Kael said, his voice dropping to a low, guttural threat. "I won't wait for a 'yes' or 'no.' I’ll have the guards break your legs and drag you down the red carpet myself. You’ll sign those papers with a pen or with your own blood, but the Ridge will be mine by sunset."

"Kael—"

"Twenty minutes, Elora," he cut me off. "Don't make me come looking for you again. The next time won't be nearly as polite."

He pivoted on his heel and strode away. His polished shoes clicked rhythmically against the hardwood sections of the floor, a steady, predatory sound that echoed in the hollow space of the corridor.

I stood alone in the hallway. The silence was heavy, broken only by the distant, cheerful tuning of a violin from the garden.

I looked down at the paper in my hand. The blood from my palm had soaked into the corner of the deed, turning the elegant script of the Vance family name into a blurred, crimson mess.

My foot throbbed. The glass was deep.

From inside the lounge, I heard a soft, melodic giggle. Selene.

"Is he gone?" she called out, her voice dripping with honeyed malice.

I didn't answer. I couldn't. I turned and began to limp back toward the staging area, leaving a trail of red dots behind me on the white silk carpet.

The wedding was still happening. But as I gripped the thorns of my bouquet, I realized I wasn't walking toward a marriage. I was walking into a war.

The garden doors creaked open in the distance, and the first notes of the wedding march began to play, sounding more like a funeral dirge than a celebration.

The heavy oak doors of the cathedral groaned as they swung open. I stood there, framed by the late afternoon sun, clutching a bouquet of thorns and dying breath. My white veil felt like a shroud.

"Step forward, Elora," Maya whispered from the shadows behind me. Her voice lacked its usual professional warmth. "The guests are waiting."

I took a step. My left shoe filled with a fresh surge of warm blood. The glass shard in my heel shifted, grinding against the bone. I didn't flinch. I kept my chin parallel to the floor.

The garden path had been replaced by a long, red-carpeted aisle that felt miles long. Hundreds of faces turned toward me. The whispers started immediately, a low hiss that moved through the pews like a snake in dry grass.

"Is that blood on her hem?"

"She’s limping. How pathetic."

"Look at her face. She looks like she’s walking to the gallows."

I ignored them. My eyes were fixed on the man standing at the top of the marble stairs. Kael Thorne looked magnificent in his midnight-blue suit. He looked like the savior I had spent two years believing in. Beside him stood the High Priest, and behind them, the massive, black totem stone of the Thorne pack, etched with ancient runes.

Kael didn't smile as I approached. He watched me with the cold, calculating gaze of a predator watching a wounded deer.

I reached the base of the stairs. My breath was steady, even if my heart was a jagged mess in my chest. I began to climb. Every step was a victory over the agony in my foot.

"You made it," Kael said. His voice carried, amplified by the acoustics of the vaulted ceiling.

"I keep my word," I replied. My voice didn't tremble. "Even when others don't."

Kael’s eyes narrowed. He looked down at the bouquet in my hands, the white petals stained with the crimson from my palms. He reached out, not to take my hand, but to snatch the marriage certificate from the High Priest’s tray.

"The Vance family land," Kael announced, turning to face the crowd. He held the cream-colored paper high. "The North Ridge. A prize many have coveted."

The guests went silent.

"Elora Vance thinks this paper makes her a Thorne," Kael continued. He looked back at me, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. "She thinks her father's dirt is enough to buy her a place by my side."

"Kael, what are you doing?" the High Priest whispered, his eyes wide.

"I am performing a public service," Kael snapped.

He looked me dead in the eye. With a sharp, violent motion, he gripped the edges of the certificate.

*Rip.*

The sound of the heavy vellum tearing echoed like a gunshot. He tore it again, and again, until the pieces were nothing but white confetti. He tossed them into the air. They fluttered down, landing in the bloodstains on my train.

"Elora Vance is a worthless discard," Kael shouted. his voice boomed through the hall. "She is a hollow shell, a boring, vanilla girl who thinks she can lead a pack of wolves."

The crowd gasped. A few people laughed. The sound felt like a physical blow to my chest.

"You're making a mistake," I said, my voice low and sharp.

"The only mistake was waiting this long to do this," Kael countered. He turned toward the side entrance of the altar. "Come out, my love."

Selene stepped from behind the velvet curtain. She had changed. She wasn't wearing the purple bridesmaid dress anymore. She wore a gown of deep, shimmering gold that clung to every curve. Her dark hair was loose, and her eyes sparkled with a triumphant fire.

She walked straight to Kael and slid her hand into his. He pulled her close, his arm wrapping around her waist with a familiarity that made my skin crawl.

"Behold your true Luna!" Kael declared. "Selene Vance has the fire this pack needs. She has the spirit. She has me."

Selene looked at me over Kael’s shoulder. She didn't say a word. She just smiled—a slow, poisonous curve of the lips.

"He's right, Elora," a voice called out from the front row. It was one of the pack elders. "Look at you. You can't even stand up straight."

"Kneel," another voice shouted.

"Kneel!" the crowd began to chant.

I stood my ground. I clamped my jaw shut, my spine a rod of iron. I would not give them the satisfaction.

"I said, kneel," Kael growled. He gestured to the guards standing at the corners of the altar.

Two men stepped forward. They weren't wearing ceremonial uniforms; they were in full tactical gear, carrying long spears tipped with silver.

"Down," one of the guards muttered.

He swung the wooden shaft of his spear. It slammed into the back of my left knee.

I buckled. The pain was an explosion of white light. I caught myself with my hands, the thorns in my bouquet grinding deeper into my palms.

"Stay down," the second guard ordered. He struck my right knee.

I fell. My knees hit the cold marble with a sickening crack. I stayed there, hunched over, my forehead nearly touching the stone. The laughter of the guests was a deafening roar now.

"Look at the little Luna," Selene mocked, her voice finally cutting through the noise. "She’s finally where she belongs. At our feet."

Kael stepped closer to me. He used the toe of his polished shoe to lift my chin, forcing me to look up at him and Selene. They stood framed by the black totem stone, looking like royalty.

"You are nothing, Elora," Kael whispered so only I could hear. "The Ridge is already being processed into my name. You have no home. You have no mate. You have nothing."

He spat on the floor next to my hand.

"Get her out of my sight," he commanded. "Throw her to the rogues for all I care."

The guards grabbed my arms, their grip bruising. They began to drag me backward, my dress trailing through the dirt and the torn paper of my life.

The guests stood up, pointing and jeering.

"Wait," I croaked, but the word was lost in the chaos.

Suddenly, a sound cut through the noise. It wasn't a voice or a scream.

It was a sharp, crystalline snap.

Everyone froze. The guards stopped dragging me. Kael and Selene turned around.

The massive black totem stone in the center of the altar—the stone that had stood for five hundred years, the stone that supposedly held the spirit of the Thorne ancestors—was trembling.

A thin, jagged line appeared near the base. It raced upward, glowing with a faint, sickly violet light.

*Crack.*

The sound was louder this time, like a tree trunk snapping in a storm. A shard of the ancient stone fell to the floor, shattering into dust.

A cold wind swept through the cathedral, blowing out the candles and sending a chill through the air that smelled of ancient earth and something much older than any wolf.

Kael stepped back, his face turning pale. "What is happening?"

The High Priest fell to his knees, his hands shaking. "The contract... the stone... it’s rejecting the union!"

I looked at the stone. The violet light wasn't fading. It was spreading, and for the first time since I walked through those doors, the fear in the room wasn't mine. It belonged to them.

The crack in the stone widened, and a low, guttural hum began to vibrate through the floorboards, shaking the very foundation of the temple.