The War God Alpha's Arranged Bride

[Evelyn’s POV]

I knew something was wrong the moment I pushed open the door to my room.

There, standing in front of my full-length mirror, was my stepsister, Samantha, wearing my wedding dress.

She had yanked the bodice dangerously low and was squeezing her cleavage together with one arm while the other waved her phone around seeking the perfect angle. She tilted her chin, pouted her painted lips, and snapped photo after photo.

For a moment, I couldn’t speak. The sight was so brazen, so typically Samantha, that my brain needed a second to catch up with my eyes.

“What the hell are you doing?” I crossed the room in three strides. “Take my dress off. Now.”

Samantha didn’t flinch. She lowered her phone and turned to me with that smile she’d perfected over the years, the one that said she’d already won whatever fight I was about to start.

“Relax, Evelyn. I’m only trying it on.” She smoothed the fabric over her hips and admired herself in the mirror. “Honestly, it suits me so much better, don’t you think? A gown like this deserves someone who actually looks the part.”

“It’s not yours to try on.”

“Oh, please.” She rolled her eyes. “You walk around in cotton rags all day. You run errands with the servants. And suddenly you care about fashion? This dress is wasted on you.”

That had always been how things worked in this house.

Ever since my mother died and my father married Isabella, I’d been treated like an afterthought. Samantha and Isabella were the picture of what an Alpha’s family should look like: polished, elegant, always dressed in expensive fabrics. I was the one who preferred practical cotton clothes, who knew every servant by name, who could tell you the price of grain down to the copper.

Isabella called me crude. Samantha called me a wild child. My father called me nothing at all.

And Samantha had always taken whatever she wanted from me: clothes, jewelry, my favorite spot at the dinner table. Every time, Isabella would smooth it over with the same line, You’re the older sister. Let Samantha have it. And every time, my father would look the other way.

But none of that mattered anymore because I had Liam.

We’d known each other since we were children. A year ago, on my birthday, he’d told me he loved me. Since then, I’d thrown myself into helping his pack. I’d restructured their grain storage, adjusted their crop rotation, built trading connections with two neighboring territories. His pack’s revenue had nearly tripled, and I was proud of every bit of it.

In a few days, he was going to come to the estate and formally ask my father for my hand. I almost grew breathless at the thought, but I needed my breath for Samantha. This dress was meant for that day. It wasn’t all that expensive, but I’d saved for it myself, and it was mine.

“Take it off, Samantha.”

“Or what?” She cocked her head. “You’ll go crying to the servants? That’s all you’re good at.”

“Take. It. Off.”

Samantha’s expression hardened. She grabbed a fistful of the skirt and pulled it tight against her body. “If you want it so badly, come and get it.”

I reached for the sleeve. The moment my fingers touched the lace, Samantha shoved me with both hands. I stumbled, caught my balance, and grabbed at the fabric again. She pushed harder. In the brief, graceless struggle that followed, her phone flew from her hand and clattered onto the stone floor, screen facing up.

I glanced down and away from her briefly startled eyes.

The screen still showed her messaging app. A string of selfies, my wedding dress on full display, had been sent to someone. A man. His profile photo was small, partially hidden by the chat bubble, but something about the angle of his jaw and the shade of his hair, looked familiar.

My heart stuttered.

That looks like Liam.

Samantha lunged for the phone, snatched it off the floor, and locked the screen.

“What are you staring at?” she snapped, her cheeks flushing red. “Mind your own business!”

“Who were you sending those to?” Dread filled my chest, but I kept it out of my voice. It couldn’t have been my fiancé on her screen.

“None of your concern.”

“I said, who was that?”

“A friend. Not that it’s any of your business.” She clutched the phone to her chest, and for the first time in this whole encounter, she looked genuinely rattled. I had never seen that expression on her face before, but I still knew what it meant.

No. I’m overthinking it. It was blurry. It could have been anyone.

Samantha tore the dress off, balled it up, and threw it at me. “Keep your cheap little gown, Evelyn. Everything that’s yours ends up being mine sooner or later anyway.”

Then she was gone.

I checked the seams. The dress was fine. But I couldn’t stop thinking about that profile photo.

* * *

I carried my unease downstairs.

In the sitting room, I found Isabella and two of the elder pack members speaking in low, urgent tones. A pot of tea sat untouched on the table.

They didn’t notice me in the doorway. I caught a name that made my steps slow: Alexander Kingston.

I didn’t know anything personal about him but I knew of his pack’s reputation. The Moonstone Pack was the current largest pack in the country. According to what I’ve heard through passing conversations amongst the staff, Moonstone Pack owed all of its success to its Alpha.

The young Alpha had been praised for being handsome and highly skilled in battle. He had defeated many poorly managed or undeserving Alphas and had earned the title of War God. He was exceedingly intelligent and had expanded his territory through trade.

Our pack was truly no match for his.

However, three months ago, he’d been horribly injured in a major car accident. Now, word was circling around that he looked terrifying, was disabled, and his temperament had become violent due to his life’s changes.

Alexander’s pack had stopped expanding, and rumors that Alexander would never recover began to spread. And since then, he’d managed to turn down—rather frighten off two other previous matches. It seemed no one was able to handle this newly transformed Alpha.

“The King’s reward is substantial,” one of the elders was saying. “More than what he offered the last two families.”

“Substantial or not,” Isabella replied, “the last two would-be Lunas they matched with him ran before they even reached the altar. What does that tell you about the state of the man?”

“It tells me the man is terrifying,” the elder said bluntly. “But the King won’t take no for an answer. He’s raised the price every time.”

I pieced it together. The Alpha King was arranging a marriage for Alexander with the Alpha daughter of a smaller pack, a pack that could be bought. Our pack had made the shortlist.

God help whoever gets chosen for that, I thought.

But it wasn’t my concern. In a few days, Liam would ask for my hand, and I would leave this house for good.

Then a shriek tore through the hallway. I recognized my step-sister’s wail even though, like with her expression only a few minutes ago, I had never experienced the sound quite like that.

Samantha came flying out of my father’s study at the far end of the house, mascara streaking down her face, breasts heaving as she sobbed so hard she could barely breathe.

“I won’t do it!” she screamed. “I won’t marry that monster!”

[Evelyn’s POV]

It was all quite dramatic, but knowing Samantha, I doubted it was anything I wanted to witness, so I turned back to the hallway. To my surprise, Isabella cornered me there a moment later, still dabbing her eyes with a silk handkerchief complete with her usual monogram.

“OK,” I said. “What happened in there?”

“The Alpha King selected our pack’s Alpha daughter for Alexander’s marriage arrangement,” she said. “Your father put Samantha’s name forward. The reward is, well, considerable.”

“And Samantha?”

“What do you think?” Isabella pressed the handkerchief to her nose. “The girl is inconsolable. She keeps screaming about being fed to a monster. Your father tried to reason with her, but she wouldn’t hear a word of it.”

I could picture it. But this time, I couldn’t really blame my step-sister for making a scene. The previous women who had been matched with Alexander had all fled before the wedding. Whatever they’d seen or heard had been enough to make them reject the king’s money and run.

For a moment, I felt something close to sympathy.

But it didn’t last because a cold thought followed: If Samantha refuses, whom will they send instead?

I pushed it away. That had nothing to do with me. Liam was going to ask for my hand in a few days.

This isn’t my fight.

* * *

I went looking for Liam that afternoon. He was doubtlessly reading the paper or some financial magazine somewhere, and I needed to see him. I needed him to be present, to be mine and to remind myself I was his.

I found him in the guest parlor, alone, turning a half-empty coffee mug between his palms and a copy of Forbes in his lap. He looked up when I entered but didn’t smile.

“You won’t believe what Samantha did this morning,” I said, sitting down across from him. “She was wearing my wedding dress. Pulling the neckline down, taking selfies in it, sending them to someone.”

Liam took a sip of coffee. “Hm.”

“She shoved me when I tried to get it back. Literally shoved me.”

“That’s just Samantha,” he said, without looking up.

I waited for more, then asked, “Doesn’t that bother you at all?”

“Evelyn, I don’t really want to get involved in your family stuff.” His tone was flat and final.

The dismissal stung, but I told myself he was preoccupied.

“Have you figured out what you’re going to say to Father?” I asked.

“More or less.”

I didn’t care for the sound of that. He was going to ask for my hand in marriage, for the Goddess’s sake. “And you’re going to do it soon?” I pressed.

“Sure.” He nodded vaguely. “I was thinking in a couple days.”

“All right.”

He finally seemed to notice my tone and blinked before looking up at me. “Right. Sorry.” He rubbed his forehead. “I’ve had a lot going on.”

“You’re going to ask him for me to be with you for the rest of our lives,” I urged him.

“Yes, I am.” He seemed irritated all of the sudden. “Can we move on?”

I stared at him across the table. He wouldn’t meet my eyes.

I found myself blurting out the news about Alpha Alexander and his need to marry. When Liam barely reacted, I was going over the details: the king’s mandate, the reward, how Samantha had completely fallen apart.

Finally, I got a reaction. Liam sat up straighter. His eyes sharpened. The coffee mug stopped turning.

“Why is she upset?”

“Our parents say she’ll be the bride, but she’s refusing.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Samantha shouldn’t be sent to someone like Alexander. She wouldn’t survive that.”

“Why not?”

“Because she’s, she’s delicate, Evelyn. A man like that would destroy her.”

I stared at him. Samantha was many things, but delicate was not one of them.

“Since when do you care about what happens to Samantha?”

Something flickered across his face. He smoothed it away. “She’s your stepsister. I’m just being considerate.”

In the entire year we’d been together, Liam had never once shown this kind of concern for Samantha. He’d barely acknowledged her existence.

“Liam. Is there something going on that I don’t know about?”

“What? No. What would be going on?” He wasn’t looking at me again.

His phone buzzed against the table. He glanced at the screen and his posture slumped in obvious relief.

“I have to go.” He was already standing. “Something came up.”

“Liam, wait—”

“It’s urgent. I’ll talk to you later.”

He was out the door. No kiss. No backward glance. No promise of “later.”

I sat alone in the parlor as the light faded. I thought about the selfies on Samantha’s phone and Liam’s sudden concern for her. I remembered how cold he’d been and that phone call he’d been so grateful to receive.

Each piece could be explained away on its own. Together, they wouldn’t stop gnawing at me.

You’re being paranoid, I told myself. Liam loves you. He chose you.

But the doubt wouldn’t go away.

* * *

I tried to sleep that night. I couldn’t.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the blurry profile photo on Samantha’s screen. I replayed every moment of the day: the way Samantha had grabbed her phone off the floor, Liam’s eyes going sharp at the mention of Alexander’s marriage, not because of Alexander, but because of Samantha. The wrong date. The phone call.

Just past midnight, I threw back the covers.

I would go to Samantha’s room, look her in the eye, and ask her who she’d been texting. If there were an innocent explanation, I’d hear it and move on.

The hallway was dark and silent. The servants had long since retired. Her door was ajar. Warm lamplight spilled through the crack.

I heard them before I saw them. A woman’s breathless giggle. A man’s low voice. The rustle of sheets.

My hand found the door. I pushed it open.

In the dim light, Samantha was tangled in the sheets with a man. His back was to me, shoulders bare. At the creak of the door, he turned his head.

Yes, of course. It was Liam.

[Evelyn’s POV]

I don’t know how long I stood there.

Samantha recovered first. She always did. She didn’t scramble or panic. She sat up, pushed her hair behind one ear, and looked at me with a calm, satisfied expression.

“You really should learn to knock,” she said.

My eyes were on Liam. He’d sat up on the edge of the bed, jaw tight, staring at the floor. Not guilty. Just annoyed, as though I were the inconvenience.

“Explain.” My voice came out raw. “Liam. Explain this to me.”

He sighed. “I was going to tell you in a few days.”

“Tell me what?”

“When I go to your father, I’ll be asking for Samantha’s hand, not yours.”

I put a hand on the doorframe and told myself not to sway in my disbelief.

“How long?” I heard myself ask. “How long has this been going on?”

Liam didn’t answer.

“Long enough,” Samantha said with a smug giggle.

“Samantha is the kind of Alpha daughter a Luna should be,” Liam said as though reciting something he’d practiced. “Refined. Elegant. If she hadn’t turned me down before, I would never have come to you in the first place.”

He never loved me.

A year of my life. All the planning sessions, the crop reforms, the trade connections I’d built on his behalf, the work that had tripled his pack’s revenue: none of it had mattered. I was the backup, the one he’d settled for while waiting for Samantha to change her mind.

“You used me,” I said.

Liam finally looked at me. “I needed an alliance with your pack. You were available. Don’t make it more dramatic than it needs to be.”

Samantha leaned against his arm and looked at me.

“You want to know your biggest problem, Evelyn?” Her voice was sweet and sharp. “You kept insisting on saving yourself for your wedding night. You thought that was noble.” She glanced at Liam. “Men don’t want noble, sweetheart. They want someone who knows what she’s doing.”

Liam said nothing. He didn’t even shift.

I wanted to scream. But I would not break in front of them.

“You’ll both regret this,” I said. My voice was hoarse but steady. “Everything Liam’s pack achieved this year, the revenue, the growth, the trade routes, that was my work, not his. And certainly not yours.”

Samantha laughed. She didn’t believe a word. She should remember I don’t lie.

“What’s going on here?” Isabella demanded, and I turned to see her standing in the hall. Our little conversation had been loud enough to draw an audience, and when she looked behind me to the scene on the bed, she didn’t bother to feign surprise.

Yeah, of course she knew.

My father came next. He stood in the hallway and surveyed the scene with his usual cold expression. No shock. No anger at Liam. No sympathy for me.

“Well,” he said after a long silence. “This simplifies things.”

“Oh?” I managed to sound casual. I don’t know how.

“Since this is how things stand, the arrangements will change. Liam will marry Samantha.” He looked at me.

“As for you, Evelyn. You will accept the King’s offer. You will marry Alexander.”

The blood left my face. “No. Absolutely not.”

“This isn’t a discussion.”

“You can’t just hand me over to a man who—”

“Think about Edward.”

I went still as images of him flashed through my mind: his pale face on the clean white pillow, his limp, defenseless body so thin under the sheet.

“What about Edward?” My voice was barely a whisper.

“Your brother has been bedridden for three months. The costs are significant. And Isabella is expecting. A boy, the doctor says.” He let that hang in the air a moment like he’d pulled off a magic trick. “How much longer do you think I’ll keep paying for a son who may never wake up when I’ll soon have another?”

Even for my father, this was despicable. I almost choked as I managed to say, “You wouldn’t.”

“Marry Alexander, get the King’s reward, and Edward’s care continues,” he said, and in the light of the hallway I couldn’t help thinking he looked like some sort of demon. “It’s very simple, really.”

Isabella murmured something about being sensible. I looked behind me as Samantha leaned against Liam with a contented smile. And Liam sat there, eyes on the floor, and said nothing.

I wiped my face with the back of my hand. The word was surprisingly easy to say.

“Fine.”

They locked me in my room that night.

Isabella called it a precaution. My phone was confiscated. A servant was posted outside the door.

I sat in the dark, gripping my mother’s sea-blue aquamarine necklace, the one keepsake she’d left me. Whenever I was afraid as a child, I would hold it and think of her. Tonight, though, it didn’t help.

I asked to see Edward. They refused.

Dawn came gray and quiet.

Isabella woke me with a curt instruction, “Pack your things.”

I took almost nothing with me: a few sets of clothes, my keepsakes of my mother.

They let me see Edward before I left. The steady hum of his machines filled the small room. I bent down and pressed my lips to his forehead.

“I’m going to keep you alive,” I whispered. “Just hold on. Wait for me.”

Outside and under a gray and cloudy sky, pack members who had heard the news gathered to say goodbye. They held my hands and wished me well.

One of the older women, an omega who had looked after me since I was small, gripped my shoulders and said, “We’ll take care of Edward. Don’t you worry about that.”

“Thank you,” I said. My voice cracked. It hurt, but it did help that I knew I had someone who cared for me and for my brother, even if I were leaving them behind.

My father just said, “Don’t ruin this for us.”

I climbed into the black car we used for formal events and sat looking out the windscreen as the car pulled away.

The drive was long. The familiar landscape gave way to forests and hills I’d never seen. With every mile, the fear in my chest tightened, and my hands started to tremble. I pull out my mother’s necklace and wrapped it around my fingers.

For Edward. As long as he lives, I can get through this.

The car crossed into Moonstone Pack territory late in the afternoon and well before I could figure out if I were promising my mother’s spirit or my own.

* * *

[Third-Person POV]

In a private study at Kingston Hall, Alexander Kingston stood before the window, tall, broad-shouldered, and flawless. No scar marred his face, no weakness showed anywhere.

His Beta, Oliver, stood by the desk.

“So,” Alexander said, his tone dark. “Another woman has agreed to marry me.”

“The King raised the reward this time,” Oliver said. “Apparently that was enough.”

Alexander let out an impatient breath. “She’ll run. Same as the others.”

He turned and glanced at his Beta. “Proceed as usual. Respect the king’s terms. But prepare everything the same way we did before. The wheelchair, the mask, all of it.” His expression hardened. “I want to show this girl exactly what she’s signed up for.”

He turned back to the window and nodded to himself. “It’s worked twice. No reason it won’t work again.”

[Evelyn’s POV]

When the cars pulled onto the Kingston Estate, my eyes were instantly drawn to the vast landscapes that surrounded the massive manor.

The place was surrounded by gorgeous, tall pine trees that bordered the property like a natural wall of defense. I knew the Moonstone Pack was known for their trading, but nothing would have ever prepared for the amount of various crops and resources that the estate single-handedly provided.

I was truly captivated.

There were orchards and organized sections of fruit-bearing bushes and vegetable patches—all of which were being tenderly attended to by numerous groups of pack members.

Each one looked determined, focused, and well inept to work in such rigorous conditions. As the limousines pulled through, some of the pack members glanced up from their work to steal a quick glance at what was going on. I wondered if any of them knew about what was going on today. Everyone seemed busy at work and there wasn’t any other real indication that there was a wedding about to take place.

My heart leaped into my throat for the hundredth time since this morning when the car finally came to a stop. The actual house looked like something out of a fairytale.

As far as I was concerned, Silverwood Manor had always been a place of beauty and high social standing. However, nothing could have prepared me for the architectural majesty that was Kingston Hall. The place was massive, likely three times the size of my own home.

Its light red brick structure was adorned with white marble and numerous carved statues overlooking the massive grounds. It was elegant but cold. Maybe it was because Alexander technically lived alone.

I took a few steady breaths in, hoping to mentally prepare myself for the event that was about to take place. The driver got out and came around to open the door for me. With the much-needed help from a few of the maids, I was able to gracefully get out of the car without too much fuss.

An older woman with a formal-looking uniform came out to greet us with a soft smile.

“You must be Miss Evelyn,” she said. “I’m Nina, the housekeeper here.”

“Hello, Nina. It’s nice to meet you.”

“And these people must be your family,” she greeted. “If you will all kindly follow me, I will take you to the living room.”

My family and I were led into the front hall where I was pleasantly surprised to find lightly decorated for the occasion. Small bundles of freshly clipped and arranged flowers were placed throughout the place along with delicate ribbons of white lace.

The living room was large and decently spacious with high ceilings. The decorations were gradually carried throughout the place. It all looked unexpectedly respectable, given the circumstances. I really thought that for a brief moment, things were going to be alright.

Maybe I wasn’t going to regret this marriage, after all.

However, those hopeful thoughts vanished from my mind within seconds. The moment I turned my head to glance down the small, make-shift aisle, I noticed that beside the altar, on the right side, was a wheelchair, a mask, and half a prosthetic limb.

It was a terribly eerie sight but it begged the question. Where on earth was Alexander?

“Um...”

Where was he? Did Alexander somehow forget that today, he and I were supposed to be getting married?

I doubted it. Although I didn’t personally know Alexander, something was telling me that he would never forget something as vital as this. And Alpha like him wasn’t prone to making careless mistakes. So where the hell was he?

Nina cleared her throat. She appeared a bit sheepish as she spoke. “Alpha Alexander will not be making an appearance, and these items are here to represent him.”

I raised my brows in shock. “Are you serious?”

She nodded his head.

“What about his family?” I asked.

Again she shook her head. “They couldn’t make it today.”

What the hell kind of wedding was this?

Nina gestures for the rest of my family to kindly take their seats while she goes to greet the priest. As soon as she left the room, Samantha broke out into endless cackles. Her face was turning redder by the second and she was gasping for air.

“Oh, this is absolutely hysterical,” Samantha laughs. “Your fiancé didn’t even have the decency to show up to his own wedding. Clearly, he’s not looking for a wife, but someone else to take care of him.”

My cheeks flushed with deep embarrassment.

Liam lightly cleared his throat. “Samantha, perhaps you shouldn’t—”

Samantha ignores him. “Come on, am I the only one seeing this setup here? Just think how well you'll fit in here, Evelyn,” she went on. “You were practically a servant in the last house, now you’ll be a caregiver to a horrible disabled man in this house.”

My heart sank into my stomach while an awful feeling washed through me. Samantha had always been obnoxious, but I never knew just how little control over her behavior she had. For Christ’s sake, we were literally standing in Alexander’s home and she was utterly bad-mouthing him.

What bothered me all the more was just how useless Isabella and my father were at that moment. Neither one of them even batted an eye at my Stepsister’s appalling attitude.

I turned and glared at the younger girl with anger behind my voice. “Shut up, Samantha!” I hissed. “Even if Alexander is disabled, he still deserves your respect. These things here are just normal tools that allow him to be able to function.”

But Samantha merely smirked and shook her head. “Wow, you’re not even married and already you’re defending him. It’s both sweet and pathetically sad.”

Right as I was about to go off on her again, another voice spoke out.

“May I beg your pardon?”

The tone was calm yet authoritative, sending chills down my spine.

All of us turned our heads to see a man, sitting in a wheelchair while wearing a half-formed mask over his face. There were two staff members standing behind him along with another man who I assumed to be his close assistant.

Oddly enough, my father was the first to react.

“Alpha Alexander.”

Was this really him?

Although he was sitting in a wheelchair, the man was physically fit and strong. His posture exuded confidence, giving off an oppressive aura as someone in a higher position.

His sapphire-like eyes, sharp jawline, tan skin, and sensual lips—combined with the mask and his expensive attire—gave him an air of mystery and nobility. It made one wonder how striking his face must be underneath the mask, which is in stark contrast to the terrifying rumors that surrounded him.

But everyone knew that underneath the mask, his face had likely been severely burned, making me feel twinged with pity.

“S-Sorry,” Samantha meekly apologized.

My father turned to give my Stepsister a weak look of disapproval for her earlier behavior.

“Samantha, you ought to keep better control over your words and know if and when it’s appropriate to say such things,” he reprimanded. “Perhaps, you should go and wait in the car.”

I fought back the urge to roll my eyes at the scene. Of course, even at a time like this, my father would be going easy on Samantha.

With the one half of his face that was still visible, Alexander raised a brow.

“Is that all?” he asked casually. “For someone with such a loose tongue, I think you deserve to have it removed.”

[Evelyn’s POV]

For the first time in several years, I watched my father’s face break out into a look of pure fear.

My father was never known for being a weak man. He had never been one to grovel or plead when mistakes were made. He had always worn a stern, unwavering stoic expression. Even during the toughest times, the man was practically unbreakable.

But that clearly wasn’t the case here. This man who hadn’t shown me an ounce of emotion for the majority of my life had practically broken into tears. His expression was pinched and shaking with worry—all because of what Alexander remarked in light of Samantha being reprimanded.

My eyes practically bulged out of my head when my father nearly stumbled to his knees.

Alexander had frankly shocked everyone with his remark.

Was he being serious? Imagine, a world without Samantha having the ability to speak.

My own breathing faltered for a brief moment. The undeniable look in Alexander’s eyes was proof that he was utterly serious. Not a single shred of evidence was visible in order to make me think twice. It sent countless shivers down my spine.

For crying out loud, my own father was practically shaking where he stood. What was this man capable of? Was I seriously about to marry this man?

While my father was seconds away from groveling, Isabella looked as though she was on the borderline of fully fainting. Liam looked stunned and didn’t even bother to speak up on Samantha’s behalf. And as for my dear Stepsister...She turned several shades paler and was on the verge of tears.

“Oh, please,” my father begged. “Please spare my daughter such torture.”

My gaze flickered back to Alexander who appeared even more disinterested than when he first entered the room. He let out a long breath and waved his hand.

“Something must be done about her abominable behavior,” he insists. “I refuse to even think that I would be associated with such a family that allows their own daughter to speak with disrespect and disdain toward people she doesn’t even know.”

Again my father was pleading for mercy on behalf of Samantha’s poor manners. Still, no one else was willing to step up on her behalf to reason with Alexander. It was like he was the one who held all the power in the situation and all of them knew it.

“I’m afraid I must insist that something be done,” he pushed sternly.

My father slowly nodded his head and glanced at Samantha in shame. “I understand.”

Samantha was shaking her head in fear; still too frightened to speak up for herself. Liam stood there with not a single word or thought—most likely because he too was afraid of what Alexander would do.

Oddly enough, Alexander had turned his head to spare me a quick glance. I partly wish I knew what sort of thoughts were running through the man’s mind. Then again, maybe it was a good thing that I didn’t.

“I take back my previous order and instead demand that your Stepdaughter be confined for no less than a month,” he stated coldly.

Samantha broke out in sobs. Good God, one would have thought she’d just been sentenced to a lifelong stay in prison. This time Isabella stepped forward and tried to plead for her daughter’s case. But Alexander wasn’t hearing any of it.

“One month,” he ordered. “She will be confined for one month in which she will spend reflecting on her boorish behavior and learn how to properly conduct herself in the presence of others.”

“Oh, please!” Isabella implores with desperation. “Please, don’t be so harsh on my daughter. It’s true there are times that she thinks before she speaks but that shouldn’t mean she should be harshly punished for it—”

“One more pointless word and I will happily extend the punishment for you as well,” Alexander snarled. “It seems that the both of you could deeply benefit from some decent self-reflection.”

Isabella instantly closed her mouth while her eyes remained wide in shock.

Suddenly, Nina reappeared with the priest following behind her. She takes notice of the odd shift in the room.

“Oh, sir! I wasn’t expecting to see you today,” she said with a pleasant smile. “You see, the priest has just arrived.”

The elderly man stepped forward and gave Alexander a slight bow of respect and gently cleared his throat.

“Alpha Alexander, will you be proceeding with the marriage ceremony?” he asked.

My stomach twisted with uncertainty. Wait. Did Alexander have an actual choice in all of this?

Was he not under the obligation of the King, like I was to my own family?

I was instantly put off by the thought that my opinion on this whole ordeal never mattered. Apparently, the same could not be said for him. The room fell silent as we all awaited his answer. Alexander didn’t give any immediate answer to the priest and instead turned his head to look back at me.

My heart thudded frantically in my chest, having no idea what was going to happen next.

“Evelyn... right?”

I blinked back the surprise in my eyes and lightly nodded.

“Yes.”

Somehow his features almost soften as well as his tone. “Are you sure about going through with this wedding?” he asked.

My lips parted in shock. “Are you...Are you asking for my opinion on the matter?”

Once more, my father stepped forward and spoke with jumbled hastiness.

“Of course, she’s going through with this marriage,” he said. “She’s agreed since the moment we first told her about it.”

Alexander barely glanced at my father. “I believe I was talking to Evelyn. Not you,” he interjected sharply.

My father backed off slightly, casting me a stern, warning look while Alexander’s back was turned. It made me remember what was at stake.

Edward. This marriage is meant to help take care of my brother.

All I could do was nod my head. The Alpha hesitated for a moment, seeming skeptical about my answer.

Nevertheless, he turned back toward the priest. “Proceed with the ceremony.”

I wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or filled with dread.

One of the maids swiftly took away the empty wheelchair and Alexander resumed its place. The priest stood at the head of the altar and my father leisurely escorted me down the aisle.

While the priest began to read through the various selected passages, my mind started to wander off. I had to face the facts. My life had changed dramatically in just a few days.

After giving it much thought over the past two days, I realized that if my family and fate were truly conspiring to put me in a difficult position, I had no choice but to make the best of it.

I must live on—for the sake of my brother. I have to do my best to live a better life.

I’d always put the interests of others before me, even when I was a child. So there was no reason why I shouldn’t be able to do it now.

When it came to Alexander, I didn’t really find him all that terrifying as those rumors had insisted. Sure he was intense and direct, but he wasn’t hard to look at.

Having been lost in my thoughts, I completely blocked out the part in which the priest had asked me to repeat the words ‘I do’. Just as I was about to correct my oversight, Alexander held up his hand.

“Stop.” He gave me that same sincere look from earlier. “Evelyn, you don’t have to force yourself to do this. I will allow you to not marry me without consequences.”

My heart plummets as he turns to leave. I caught the threatening look in my father’s eyes. He couldn’t have been more wrong. There were consequences. Without a marriage there would be no reward from the king and then my brother's life...

Before I had a chance to contemplate my options, I found myself taking off after Alexander. I placed a hand on his shoulder and turned to face him.

“Yes, I do,” I told him breathlessly.

I leaned down and pressed my lips to his. I felt him go stiff, probably from shock from my boldness. Pulling back, his eyes had gone wide with surprise. It had just then occurred to me that Alexander hadn’t said if he agreed to this marriage yet.

The priest, realizing I had rushed the process, quickly shouted. “Oh… I guess… I pronounce you husband and wife! And you may kiss your luna!”