His Captive Bride is His Cure

Scarlett POV The mahogany table split under his hand, a jagged crack running through the wood like a lightning bolt. Splinters flew, but Kaelen didn't flinch. He didn't even blink. "You do not," he snarled again, the sound vibrating in my chest cavity. The air in the room grew so heavy it felt like gravity had doubled. Gideon and Liam were already backing away, their heads bowed, their wolves submitting to the sheer, suffocating force of their Alpha's rage. But I didn't bow. "You will not leave this room," Kaelen commanded, his voice layering over itself—man and beast speaking as one. The gold in his eyes swirled like molten coins. "You will not go to him. You belong to ME." The Alpha Command hit me like a physical blow. It was a compulsion designed to crush the will of any wolf lower in the hierarchy, forcing them to their knees. My knees buckled, trembling violently, but a strange, cool heat surged through my veins—a silver defiance that felt ancient and unyielding. I grabbed the edge of the broken table, forcing myself to stand upright. I met his glowing gaze, my breath coming in shallow gasps. "I... do not," I gritted out, fighting the crushing weight of his aura. "I belong to myself." Kaelen froze. The shock on his face was fleeting, quickly replaced by a darker, more calculated intensity. He had expected me to collapse. The fact that I hadn't seemed to snap him out of his feral state, if only slightly. The golden glow in his eyes receded, leaving behind the stormy gray of a winter sea. He straightened his suit jacket, though the savage energy still crackled around him like static electricity. "Fine," he said, his voice dangerously low. "Force won't keep you. But perhaps a deal will." He reached into his inner pocket, pulled out a fountain pen, and dragged the Annulment Agreement toward him over the splintered wood. With a sharp, aggressive motion, he signed his name at the bottom. My heart leaped. He was letting me go? He pushed the document and the check toward me, but before I could touch them, his hand slammed down on top of the papers, pinning them to the table. "It's yours," he rasped, leaning in until I could smell the scent of rain and cedar that made my head spin. "On one condition. Stay the night. In the morning, you will greet my grandmother as my Luna. You will smile, you will hold my hand, and you will let her believe her family is whole." "And then?" I whispered, eyeing the papers beneath his large hand. "After that, you are free to go. If you refuse, this contract is void, and I swear on the Moon Goddess, you will never leave this estate. I will lock you in the tower if I have to." I looked at the check—five hundred million dollars. Enough to start a new life with Burke. Enough to be safe. "Twelve hours," I said, my voice hollow. "I'll give you twelve hours." The guest room they gave me was larger than the entire apartment I shared with my father. It was a gilded cage, draped in silk and velvet. I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the moon outside. My leg throbbed. I pulled up the hem of my dress to inspect the scratch I'd gotten from the Moonpetal thorns while harvesting herbs for Genevieve's cure. The dried blood was dark against my pale skin. A knock at the door made me jump. A young maid entered, her head lowered, carrying a silver tray with a small, discreetly wrapped package. "From the Alpha, miss," she squeaked, setting it on the nightstand before scurrying out as if the room were on fire. Frowning, I tore open the paper. A box of tampons. My face burned. Heat rushed to my cheeks, followed instantly by a wave of indignation. He had seen the blood on my leg during our confrontation. He thought... "Pervert," I hissed, throwing the box into the trash. "He was looking between my legs." He was watching me that closely. The thought made my skin prickle, not with fear, but with something far more confusing that I refused to name. I scrubbed the dried blood off my thigh in the bathroom, scrubbing until my skin was raw, trying to wash away the feeling of his golden eyes on me. The next morning, the Grand Hall was flooded with sunlight. It smelled of beeswax and the thousands of white Moon roses that had been brought in overnight. I descended the staircase, my hand gripping the banister. I was wearing a dress the maids had laid out—a soft, cream-colored thing that made me look far more innocent than I felt. Genevieve Blackwell stood in the center of the hall, directing the servants. She looked frail but radiant, her silver hair caught in a loose bun. When she saw me, her face lit up with a joy so pure it made my stomach twist with guilt. "My child!" She opened her arms wide. "The Goddess has truly blessed my grandson." I forced a smile, stepping into her embrace. "Good morning, Genevieve." She held me tight, her scent like dried lavender and old parchment. For a second, I felt safe. But then, her body went rigid against mine. The warmth evaporated from the room. Genevieve pulled back sharply, her hands gripping my shoulders with surprising strength. The joy in her eyes had vanished, replaced by a cold, terrifying clarity. Her nostrils flared, inhaling deeply, searching my scent. "You..." she breathed, her voice trembling not with age, but with fury. Kaelen stepped forward from the shadows of the hallway, his expression guarded. "Grandmother?" Genevieve didn't look at him. Her gaze was locked on mine, piercing through my lies, through the contract, straight into the secret I was harboring. "You are his Mate," she said, her voice ringing through the silent hall like a judge's gavel. "But you carry the soul of a traitor." I froze, the blood draining from my face. "You intend to leave him," she accused, her eyes narrowing into slits. "You are not worthy to be his Luna."