I never thought I’d be dragged to an altar like cattle, but here I was, standing before a crowd that couldn’t care less about me. I could hear the whispers around me, the judgment in every eye. They all thought I’d murdered their Alpha, thought I’d killed Lucian for the power and the wealth. And now, Damien, his son, was going to claim his revenge.
Damien stood beside me, his expression as cold as ever. His hand was heavy on my arm, a silent reminder that I had no say in this. No choice. He didn’t even look at me as we exchanged vows. It was like I was just another possession to him, a prize to be claimed.
I felt the weight of the pack's eyes on me, the pressure of their silent disapproval. I tried not to show how much it hurt, but I couldn’t help it. My heart felt like it was shattering into a thousand pieces.
The honeymoon wasn’t in some romantic, picturesque setting. Damien took me to one of his father’s old estates, far from the pack, far from anyone who might hear me scream.
That first night was a blur of fear and humiliation.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry. "Damien, please… I don’t want this."
He didn’t even turn to look at me. "You don’t get a say, Eira. You never did."
My chest tightened. He was right. I had no voice here. I was just a tool to be used.
He finally turned, his eyes dark and unreadable. He walked toward me slowly, deliberately, like a predator sizing up its prey.
I backed away, but there was nowhere to run. The door was locked.
"D-damien, please," I whispered, my voice cracking.
But he didn’t care. He grabbed me, forcing me onto the bed. My heart raced, panic rising in my chest as he pinned me beneath him.
When he marked me that night, it was nothing like what I’d expected. He sank his teeth into my skin, claiming me in the most brutal way possible. I tried to fight him, but he was too strong.
Then, something unexpected happened. He froze.
His eyes went wide as he pulled back, his grip loosening for a moment. "You’re still a virgin?" he asked, his voice low and almost disbelieving.
I didn’t answer. It didn’t matter.
He recovered quickly, though, his anger flaring back up as he looked at me with contempt. "You think that matters? You killed my father, and you think I’m going to show you mercy?"
With a growl, he went at me again, forcing himself on me. There was no tenderness, no care, just cold, hard vengeance.
When he was done, he left me lying there, broken and discarded like I didn’t matter.
I should’ve expected it. He never wanted me. He never cared.
The next few days were torture. Damien barely spoke to me, except to bark orders or remind me of my place. Every move I made, every breath I took, was under his control. I was his Luna now, but my title meant nothing. I was a prisoner in my own home.
The pack watched me like vultures, waiting for me to fail. They had no sympathy for me, no understanding of what I was going through. They saw me as a murderer.
One afternoon, while I was in Lucian’s study, I found something. A journal, hidden away in the back of a drawer. I didn’t know what made me open it, but something inside me told me I had to.
The handwriting was Lucian’s, sharp and precise, filled with names I didn’t recognize and cryptic notes about alliances and debts.
I flipped through the pages, my fingers trembling, until I came across something that made my blood run cold.
"Don’t trust the council. Betrayal runs deep. Someone in our pack isn’t who they seem to be."
I stared at the words, trying to process what I was reading. Could Lucian have known something was going to happen? Had his death really been an accident?
I couldn’t stop the questions from flooding my mind. If Lucian had been betrayed, who had done it? Was his death part of a larger plan?
The journal was my only clue, but I knew I had to be careful. Damien’s eyes were everywhere, and he would never let me get away with questioning anything. But something told me Lucian’s death wasn’t as simple as it seemed, and I couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling in my gut.
I had to find out the truth.
