Beautiful lies
They say a mating ceremony is the most beautiful night in a she-wolf’s life. The stars shine brighter. The Moon Goddess smiles down upon her children. The bond between mates, the most sacred of bonds, fills your soul with warmth, like honey over a fire.
Lies.
Tonight, the stars feel distant. The moon is just a cracked mirror in the sky—hanging there like a warning I ignored.
My room was cold. Still. The kind of stillness that whispers of things that should not be. I sat before the mirror tucked beneath the slanted attic ceiling, watching my reflection tremble with a breath I hadn’t meant to take. I tried to shake the dread. But it clung, low and heavy, like smoke in my chest.
Something was wrong. I didn’t know what—but I felt it.
Footsteps echoed down the hallway. Light. Familiar. Serah.
She didn’t knock. She never did.
“You’re not dressed?” she asked, voice edged with faux surprise as she sauntered in, dangling a teal dress between two fingers. “Good thing I brought this. It’s out of style, anyway. But Duncan won’t care. He’s already yours.”
The dress landed on my bed like a challenge.
Serah leaned against the doorframe, perfect in every way. She was the Luna-in-training, the pack’s golden girl. She smiled at me like a knife.
“You should thank me,” she added. “You’ll look halfway decent in this—if you don’t mess up your hair again.”
I forced a smile. “Thank you.”
She smirked. “Don’t screw it up, Alice. You only get one first impression as a mate.”
When she left, the cold rushed back in like a breath I hadn’t noticed I was holding. I picked up the dress from where it lay, folded and careless. Faded silk. A torn hem. A hand-me-down cloaked in sentiment. I told myself it was a gift. Proof she cared. I needed to believe that—needed something to hold on to, no matter how frayed. Still, I held it close. Because it was all I had. Like Duncan. Like the fragile hope that tonight would rewrite the story of my life.
Mate Bonds were sacred. Ordained by the Moon Goddess. Duncan chose me. That had to mean something. His smile had always been kind. His touch, gentle. He made me feel seen. Safe.
He was my way out.
I slid into the dress, fingers trembling as I fumbled with the clasps. The mirror refused to lie. I didn’t look like a bride. I looked like a girl pretending.
My wolf stirred—barely. Restless. Silent.
“Come on,” I whispered. “It’s our big night. Don’t hide from me.”
Nothing.
“Please.” My voice cracked. “Please don’t do this.”
Still, silence. And that silence screamed.
I took a breath. Just one more lie. Just one more night of pretending. If I could make it through this, if Duncan really loved me, maybe everything would change. Maybe I’d finally have a family of my own. A home. Acceptance.
I smoothed the dress. Lifted my chin. Walked out the door.
The glade shimmered under lantern light. Silver orbs swayed in the breeze like patient stars, casting soft halos over the gathered crowd. Flower petals drifted down in a slow, dreamy cascade, as if the night itself held its breath.
All eyes were on Duncan.
General Duncan. Hero of the border wars. The youngest commander ever appointed to the Lycan King’s Army beyond the Veil. He had faced horrors that turned seasoned wolves feral. He had returned victorious, bearing not just scars but medals, praise, and the Alpha’s pride. The pack adored him. Revered him. He was the shining heir to a bloodline bathed in legend.
And tonight, he was mine.
He stood at the center of the glade like a story carved from moonlight—broad shoulders draped in ceremonial silver, golden hair kissed by the wind, and eyes that burned with purpose. When he looked at me, the world fell quiet. When he smiled...
I believed. With every trembling breath, I believed.
He reached for my hand, his grip firm, reverent. Then he kissed my knuckles, and I swore the stars pulsed in time with my heartbeat.
The Elders began the rites. Their voices seemed far away, like echoes through a dream. I could barely hear them over the rush of blood in my ears, over the silent, desperate chant in my mind: He chose me. He loves me. I’m safe.
Duncan’s gaze never left mine. In that moment, he was everything. A promise. A future. My salvation.
We exchanged vows. The crowd erupted, but none of it was for me. They celebrated him. Their golden son. Their war hero. The Alpha’s chosen. I was just the girl beside him. A shadow in a faded dress.
Still, when he wrapped his arms around me, I clung to the illusion. His strength steadied me.
But something inside me trembled.
The bond—it wasn’t anchoring.
It was fraying.
My wolf whimpered.
For a moment, I felt relief. At least she was there. Present. But why was she whimpering? Why couldn’t she be happy—for me, for us? This was supposed to be a joyous night. We were moments away from being free. From belonging. From being claimed. Once the bond stabilized, once Duncan marked me, everything would fall into place.
I held on to that hope like a lifeline.
The cheers still echoed in my ears as we returned to the packhouse, but they felt distant, like they belonged to someone else’s joy. The lanterns flickered softer now, the warmth fading. Inside, the music played on. Laughter swelled and spilled into every corner. Wine flowed freely.
I drifted through the celebration, unseen. A shadow trailing behind the golden boy they all adored. Somewhere between the toasts and the dances, Duncan disappeared.
A glass found its way into my hand. Bitter. I set it down. Too late. A cold sweat bloomed across my spine. My head throbbed—sharp, unrelenting. My skin burned like it didn’t belong to me. My breath hitched, caught halfway to nowhere.
The room tilted, lurched sideways. Laughter and light warped into shadows. The music was distant thunder now, muffled and strange.
Panic scratched at the edge of my thoughts.
I reached out across the bond.
Nothing.
It slammed into me like a fall with no end—the kind that knocks the breath out of your lungs before you even understand you’re falling. The absence. The silence. The gaping void where something sacred should have been.
And with it, the creeping realization:
Something was terribly wrong.
Desperation clawed its way up my throat. I tried again, harder this time, as if sheer will could force a connection.
Still nothing.
Then I felt it. A pull. Not a thought. A force. East wing.
Familiar scents laced the air.
Serah. Duncan.
Twined. Intimate. Electric.
I followed.
Each step was a heartbeat louder than the last. The corridor stretched like a throat about to swallow me whole. My legs moved, numb and unwilling. My wolf whimpered with dread. I should have stopped.
But I needed to believe.
I reached the door.
His voice—Duncan’s—was silk over a blade.
“You feel that?” he groaned. “That’s her power giving way. The bond’s breaking. Once it snaps, we take everything. Not even the King will stand in our way.”
A moan. Sultry. Possessive. Serah.
I pressed my head against the doorframe. The cold bit into my skin, grounding me. My breath hitched. My heartbeat stuttered.
It’s not what it sounds like. Maybe it’s a mistake. A test. A misunderstanding.
Duncan’s voice again, breathless with pleasure: “She was so easy to manipulate. The way she looked at me? Pathetic.”
Then Serah, low and gleeful: “She still thinks this is love. Gods, the way she stared at you tonight like you were the answer to every prayer. And in my dress? Darling, I nearly laughed in her face.”
A wet sound. Skin. Lips. Another moan. This one louder. Shameless.
My legs buckled. I caught myself against the wall, shaking.
No. Please, no. This isn’t real. He loves me. He’s mine. He’s my mate.
My wolf thrashed inside me, anguish turning to agony. But I clung to the lies. I had nothing else.
Serah bewitched him. There must be magic. This isn’t him. This isn’t my Duncan.
My hand shook as I reached for the knob.
Maybe it’s not what I think. Maybe he’s injured. Maybe he needs me.
Even now, standing on the edge of devastation, I prayed for anything but the truth. I whispered lies into the silence, begged the Moon Goddess to prove me wrong. One last chance. One last illusion to hold.
And then I turned the knob.
The world shattered.
Duncan. Shirtless. Back arched. Thrusting. Serah’s arms around his neck. Her legs wrapped around his waist. Their movements savage and in sync.
He looked right at me.
And didn’t stop.
Serah, without missing a beat, looked over his shoulder. Her eyes locked on mine. That perfect smile. Poisonous.
“Don’t worry,” she purred. “He was always meant to be mine. You? You were just the training wheels he had to outgrow.”
Duncan barely glanced at me. His lips curved into a smirk—one I’d once thought was charming, safe. Now it felt like a slap. “Alice,” he said, like he was naming a stray someone ought to put down.
Just that. Nothing more. My name, like a discarded toy.
I stood in the doorway, clothed in lace and illusion, watching the death of every dream I’d ever dared to whisper.
And somewhere deep inside, my wolf let go.
Something sacred died that night.
And as I stood there, hollowed and unraveling, I realized:
The girl who walked through that door had died.
The one who’d crawl out would never wear chains again.
But first — she would break.
Somewhere—beneath stars, behind shadow—something ancient had taken notice.
It would not let her die quietly.
