The ceremony hall churns with chaos. Screams taper into nervous murmurs. Guards sprint past the shattered window, boots hammering stone. Someone shouts orders outside. "Secure the perimeter!" "He went north!" Metal clangs against metal. A body hits the ground with a sickening thud.
I stand on the altar steps, Rhys's hand clamped around mine. My wolf surges inside me, clawing at my ribs, demanding I move. I step forward. Rhys yanks me back.
"Stay here," he says, his voice steel. "Let the guards handle it."
I force myself still.
The head guard appears in the doorway, blood streaking his jaw. "We have him, Alpha. The prisoner is secured."
Rhys releases my hand and strides toward him. "Alive?"
"Yes, Alpha."
"Good." Rhys turns to face the crowd, his voice cutting through the frightened whispers. "The ceremony will continue. This interruption changes nothing."
Murmurs ripple through the gathered wolves. Some look skeptical. Others exchange worried glances. But no one challenges him.
Elder Maren steps forward, her ceremonial staff tapping against stone. "The Alpha has spoken. Return to your seats."
Slowly, reluctantly, they obey. Families settle back into rows. Warriors line the walls again, hands on their weapons. The hall doesn't feel safe anymore. It feels like a trap.
Elder Maren approaches us, her dark eyes searching my face. "Do you wish to proceed, Luna?"
I open my mouth. Nothing comes out. Rhys squeezes my hand, his grip firm, commanding.
"Yes," I finally say. "We proceed."
Elder Maren nods and begins the final blessings. Her voice rises and falls in the ancient language. The pack responds in unison, their words hollow, mechanical. I repeat the phrases I've memorized, but they taste like ash.
Rhys turns to me, cupping my face with both hands. "You are mine," he says, low enough only I hear. "Nothing changes that."
He kisses me. The crowd applauds. The sound crashes over me like waves, distant and muffled. All I can think about are those golden eyes burning through the smoke.
***
The marriage chamber glows with candlelight. Soft. Intimate. Warm. I stand at the window, still wearing the ceremonial Luna cloak. Outside, torches flicker along the walls. Guards patrol in pairs, their movements sharp and alert.
The door opens. Rhys enters, closing it softly behind him. He loosens the collar of his ceremonial armor, watching me.
"You're quiet," he says.
"It's been a long day."
"Are you nervous?"
I turn to face him, forcing a smile. "No."
He crosses the room and stops behind me. His lips brush my shoulder. "You don't have to pretend with me."
I try to lean into it. Try to feel what a new bride should feel. But my wolf paces inside me, restless and unhappy.
Rhys turns me to face him. His hands move to the clasps of my cloak, unfastening them one by one. The fabric pools at my feet. His eyes roam over me, reverent.
"Beautiful," he murmurs.
He kisses me again, his tongue exploring my mouth with a burning intensity. His hands move with deliberate slowness, running over the curves of my body, pausing to tease my nipples until they stiffen beneath his touch. He's everything a mate should be—tender, controlled, and respectful. I respond, mechanically at first, then force myself to be present. This is my husband, my Alpha, the man I chose.
He lifts me effortlessly, carrying me to the bed. The sheets feel cool against my skin. He undresses methodically, folding his armor aside like a warrior preparing for battle. When he joins me, his erection presses against my thigh—a solid and reassuring presence.
"I'll protect you," he whispers into my neck as his fingers gently explore the wetness between my legs. "Cherish you. Build a future with you."
"I know," I breathe as he enters me, slowly at first, giving me time to adjust to his size before gradually picking up the pace.
We move together in a sensual dance; our bodies crave each other like parched earth craves rain. I try to silence my wolf's whimpering protests and focus on his touch—his rough hands grasping my hips, his warmth filling me, and the steady rhythm of his breathing.
Then my scar erupts.
Pain lances through my ribs, white-hot and searing. I gasp and jerk away from him as he thrusts deep within me.
Rhys freezes instantly. "Ardena?"
I press my hand against the burning mark, trying to breathe through the agony. "It’s ok."
"Did I hurt you?"
"No." The word comes out strangled. "It's not you."
He pulls out immediately—the concern in his eyes tearing at my heartstrings. "Let me see."
I shake my head and try to turn away, but he's already guiding me onto my side, examining the crescent-shaped mark in the candlelight.
His fingers trace the curve of the scar, barely touching. "What is this?"
"A scar."
"I can see that." His frown deepens. "Where did it come from?"
"I don't know. I've had it since childhood."
He studies it closely, his fingers following the deliberate curve. "This isn't random. It's too precise. Too intentional."
"It's just a scar, Rhys."
"No." His voice hardens. "This is a ritual mark. Someone burned this into your skin deliberately. Did your parents ever explain it?"
I swallow hard. "They never spoke of it. The few times I asked, my mother changed the subject."
"Why would they hide something like this?"
"I don't know."
He's silent for a moment, his jaw tight. Then he kisses the scar gently. "It doesn't matter. The past is behind us now."
He pulls me close, finishing what we started. I try to focus on him, on the warmth of his body, the security of his arms. But the burn lingers beneath my skin, a low throb that won't fade.
Afterward, he falls asleep quickly, his breathing deep and even. His arm drapes across my waist, heavy and possessive.
I lie awake in the darkness, staring at the ceiling. My wolf won't settle, prowling and snarling inside my mind. The scar pulses with phantom heat. I keep replaying the moment at the wedding. The masked man's eyes locking with mine. The instant recognition. The way my entire body responded, like lightning striking bone.
My wolf screamed mate. But that's impossible. I'm lying beside my mate right now.
Rhys stirs, tightening his arm around me.
Guilt crashes through me. He loves me. Trusts me. I should feel grateful.
But my wolf whispers again in the silence.
Wrong. Wrong mate.
The words echo until dawn breaks.