Chapter 1 Marriage
This is the man I’m supposed to marry. Not marry, really—a transaction. Who would willingly bind themselves to an alpha? Betas are easier, simpler… safer. I’d rather a beta than any alpha.
Aren sat, quiet but alert, his gaze fixed on Solen. Solen watched him back, unflinching, a predator in repose. The silence stretched, taut and charged, until it cracked.
“Mr. Solis,” Aren’s father said, his voice clipped, formal. “Mr. Hale, he is my youngest son. I… apologize that you personally had to intervene and bring him here.”
Aren’s lips curled, a flicker of disdain in his eyes. “Apologies? Let me correct you. He didn’t intervene. He dragged me—literally dragged me in front of everyone.”
Mr. Solis’s glare hardened. “And why do you think he had to? I told you, a week ago, that you’re getting married at noon. Why weren’t you home?”
“I forgot,” Aren said simply, as though speaking of something trivial. “I only remember what’s worth remembering. Something like this… marriage? Not worth it.”
He stood, tall, imposing, glancing at Solen with a smirk. “Hurry up. Get up. Or are you stuck to that chair? Want me to help you?”
Solen’s finger tapped once. Instant obedience. A bodyguard lunged.
“Don’t touch me!” Aren roared. “Let me go, you mad bastard!”
Solen advanced slowly, deliberate, unhurried. “Babe, control your mouth. Or I can sew it shut. Don’t worry—it won’t look ugly. I’ll have a renowned designer do it. Not even a doctor. Want me to?”
“It hurts!” Aren snapped, and the bodyguard released him instantly. He looked at his wrist, raw and angry red.
Solen’s eyes flicked to the man who had been standing by the chair. He retrieved ointment, handed it over, and Solen applied it with a practiced tenderness.
Aren froze, thoughts whirling. Is he… worried about me? Or just about my skin? No. He doesn’t care. If he cared, he wouldn’t have forced me here. Selfish. Evil. Capitalist. I hate him. More than any alpha. I hate Solen Hale.
Solen’s breath ghosted over the wound. “Want me to send you to the hospital?”
“Hospital? No. Just pay me,” Aren said, voice sharp as a blade.
Solen’s brows rose. “For what?”
“I’m an actor. If you touch me, you pay. Even for a smile, people pay. Let alone this—your mark.”
“How much?”
“One million. Scanning? Or cheque?”
“Stop being disobedient, Aren,” his father’s voice warned.
“I, Aren, was never obedient to begin with,” he shot back, unrepentant.
Solen’s hand rose. “I’ll pay.”
Aren’s smirk returned. “Good choice.” He glanced at the man who had brought the ointment. “Pay him, now.”
Satisfied, Aren checked his watch. “Now let’s get this marriage over with. I have to leave soon.”
“Where?” Solen asked.
“Want to know? Want me to report it to you?” Aren leaned in, close, and screamed in his ear: “I won’t tell you!”
Mr. Solis lunged to intervene, dragging Aren away, muttering in disbelief. What kind of boy…? Where else would he find such an alpha?
Solen rubbed his ear, unbothered. Calm. Collected.
“Next time, don’t expect me to tell you anything about my life. I never report. Got it?” Aren’s voice cut through the tension as they moved toward the door.
Solen nodded, quiet, inscrutable.
Aren’s mind flickered, and he thought: Obedient? I expected fire, chaos. But… whatever. Who cares about him?
And together, the alpha and the unwilling fiancé walked through the threshold—an unspoken war simmering beneath every step.
The car door shut with a muted thud, sealing them inside a moving cage of leather and silence.
Aren crossed his legs, chin tilted high. “Control the media,” he said coolly. “No news about this marriage should surface. If it leaks, our contract is breached. I walk free. And you divorce me.”
Solen adjusted his cuff, gaze forward. “Yes. I know.”
Simple. Calm. Almost bored.
Aren looked out the window, hiding the flicker in his eyes. Just wait and see.
He had already tipped off a few paparazzi. A whisper here, a hint there. Enough for cameras to start hunting. Let it leak. Let it burn. Freedom wrapped in scandal.
In the front seat, Mr. Solis turned around, his expression tight. “Now I hope you will stop targeting us.”
Solen’s voice remained even. “Mr. Solis, don’t use such words. I never targeted you. If you doubt it, ask Aren. He said himself he would marry me only if his family were bankrupt. Or drowning in debt. I merely… arranged the conditions to meet his criteria.”
The words slid through the car like a blade drawn slowly from its sheath.
Aren’s fingers twitched. A week ago, he had mocked him. Why would I marry you? My family isn’t bankrupt. There’s no debt.
And within a week, assets had fallen, accounts had collapsed, pressure had mounted like a storm cloud.
This psycho actually did it.
Aren stared at him, something between fury and disbelief rising in his chest. Why does he want to marry me? I’m not obedient. I’m not a well-behaved omega. I’m not even his lover.
…Or am I?
He turned abruptly. “Mr. Hale. Do you love me?”
Mr. Solis nearly twisted out of his seat. His thoughts screamed. Why is this boy like this? Can Mr. Hale truly handle him?
Solen didn’t hesitate. “No.”
Aren blinked once. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“Then why insist on marrying me?”
“No reason,” Solen replied. “You’re beautiful. I have a habit of collecting beautiful things.”
The word hung in the air.
“Things?” Aren echoed softly.
He turned fully toward him. Their faces inches apart now. “Beautiful things?”
And then he leaned in and bit Solen’s cheek. Hard.
Teeth sinking into skin. Not playful. Not gentle. A warning carved in flesh.
Mr. Solis nearly stopped breathing.
Solen did not flinch. Did not push him away. Did not hiss. His hands remained relaxed on his lap, pulse steady beneath the surface.
Aren pulled back, eyes blazing. “I also have a habit,” he said coolly, “of biting people who get on my nerves.”
Solen’s thumb brushed the faint mark forming on his cheek. His gaze lingered on Aren, unreadable.
“Very peculiar habit.”
Aren smirked faintly. “Not more than you.”
The car continued forward, smooth and silent, carrying them toward a wedding neither believed in.
Two predators seated side by side.
One pretending indifference.
The other pretending he didn’t care at all.
And somewhere between them, something far more dangerous than a contract had begun to breathe.
The car came to a stop. Aren’s eyes darted left and right, scanning the street, the sidewalks, the corners—anywhere a camera might hide. One single photo. One. That’s all he needed. Then he’d be free.
“What are you doing?” Solen’s voice broke through his focus. “Waiting for someone?”
Aren’s head snapped toward him. “Who’s waiting?”
“You seem to be,” Solen said, tilting his head, eyes narrowing. “You’re looking everywhere, as if…”
Aren scratched the back of his neck, forcing a casual shrug. “Nothing like that. I don’t have many friends.”
Solen’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. “I wouldn’t doubt it. You are… unfriendly.”
Blood boiled in Aren’s veins. Unfriendly? I’ll show him unfriendly. He imagined pushing Solen to the ground, just to see that smug smile falter.
“Let’s go ahead,” Mr. Solis said, unaware of the storm brewing behind his son’s eyes.
Aren kept walking, still scanning, still desperate. The tall building loomed ahead. It’ll be crowded, he thought. Somewhere in the line, a camera, a photographer. Just one shot… one chance.
As they entered, a strange emptiness met them. Not a soul. Not even a single dog, let alone a person. Silence wrapped the lobby like a mocking blanket.
Aren exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging. He felt defeated. No matter what he tried, he couldn’t outmaneuver Solen. Not him. Not today.
Solen’s smile appeared again, gentle but teasing. “Relieved?” he asked. “Look around. No one is capturing you.”
Aren muttered under his breath, almost prayer-like: “I’m dying… to be captured in any camera. God, please…”
Solen’s laugh was soft, a low rumble against his ear. He knows me too well, Aren thought, frustration and something else stirring deep in his chest.
The lobby felt like an abandoned stage. Too clean. Too quiet. Even the air seemed managed.
Aren’s jaw tightened. No. I refuse to lose like this.
As they walked toward the registration hall, Aren slowed deliberately. He pretended to fix his shoe, then straightened and shifted closer to the glass entrance doors. Reflection angles mattered. If any camera lingered outside, it might catch a silhouette. A face. A hint.
He suddenly raised his voice. “So, Mr. Hale, are you happy now? Ruining my life publicly wasn’t enough?”
His words echoed. Dramatic. Perfect bait.
Nothing.
Not a single flash.
Solen adjusted his sleeve. “Projecting already? We haven’t even signed the papers.”
Aren shot him a glare. Fine. Plan two.
He “accidentally” stumbled forward, grabbing Solen’s collar. Their bodies collided. From a distance, it could look intimate. Or violent. Either way, clickable.
Still nothing.
The doors remained blank, sterile glass reflecting only their own absurdity.
Solen steadied him with one hand at his waist. Firm. Controlled. “Careful,” he said evenly. “You might fall.”
“I’d rather fall than stand next to you,” Aren snapped, shrugging him off.
Mr. Solis cleared his throat anxiously. “Aren… behave. This is not a playground.”
Aren ignored him. One last try. He turned sharply toward the reception desk and declared loudly, “I object to this marriage!”
The clerk blinked. “Sir… this is a mutual registration appointment.”
Silence swallowed the drama whole.
No gasp. No crowd. No chaos.
Just fluorescent lights humming overhead.
Aren felt it then. Total defeat. Even fate had sided with Solen.
Solen leaned slightly closer, voice calm as still water. “Finished?”
Aren clenched his fists. “You blocked them.”
“Blocked who?”
“The media.”
Solen’s expression did not change. “You asked me to control it. I am simply fulfilling your request.”
Mr. Solis looked between them, worry etched into his face. How is he so calm? he wondered. Anyone else would have lost their temper by now. Aren is impossible. Unpredictable. A storm in human form. And this man… this man sits like a mountain.
He stepped closer to Solen. “Mr. Hale… I hope you understand my son’s nature. He—”
“I understand,” Solen replied gently. “He doesn’t like cages.”
Aren scoffed. “Don’t pretend you understand me.”
Solen met his eyes. “I don’t. Not yet.”
The clerk interrupted softly. “If you’re ready, we can proceed.”
And just like that, the war paused for paperwork.
They sat across a polished desk. Names confirmed. Documents verified. Signatures required.
Aren stared at the pen as if it were a weapon. “Last chance,” he muttered. “You can still walk away.”
“I don’t walk away from investments,” Solen said quietly.
“See? Capitalist.”
“Correct.”
Mr. Solis pressed his fingers together, tension visible. “Aren… sign.”
Aren inhaled slowly. Then, with a sharp flick of his wrist, he signed.
Solen followed. Smooth. Precise. No hesitation.
The clerk stamped the documents. The sound echoed louder than it should have. Final. Official.
“Congratulations,” she said politely, handing them the certificate.
Aren stared at the paper in disbelief. That’s it? No thunder. No dramatic interruption. Just ink?
Solen accepted his copy and glanced at Aren. “You’re married now.”
Aren folded his certificate carelessly. “Temporary.”
Mr. Solis exhaled, a mixture of relief and dread. He still couldn’t understand it. How could Solen remain so composed beside such a troublemaker? Most alphas would demand obedience. Control. Submission.
But Solen?
He looked almost… entertained.
As they walked out of the building, Aren muttered under his breath, “I really thought I’d win.”
Solen heard him. Of course he did.
“You tried very hard,” Solen said mildly.
Aren stopped walking. “Don’t talk like you’re proud of me.”
“I’m not,” Solen replied. “I’m impressed.”
That only made Aren more irritated.
They stepped back into the daylight. No cameras. No chaos.
Just a legally bound marriage sealed in silence.
And somewhere beneath Aren’s frustration, beneath Solen’s calm, something subtle shifted.
The game had officially begun.
