The Forced Bride

The scream still echoed in Valentina's head long after it faded into silence. Her fingers clutched the wet chain, her heartbeat loud in her ears. The tiny gold locket-her mother's-glimmered under the sun like a cruel joke. It wasn't possible. She'd seen that necklace lowered into the grave with her mother. She'd buried it herself. A chill crawled down her spine. "Valentina." The voice made her whirl around. A woman stood at the far end of the garden path. Tall, dark-haired, wrapped in a flowing silk robe the color of blood. Her eyes-sharp and calculating-traveled over Valentina with unsettling ease. "You shouldn't wander alone," the woman said, stepping closer, the faint click of her heels echoing off the stones. "The master doesn't appreciate disobedience." "Who are you?" Valentina asked, hiding the necklace in her fist. The woman's red lips curved. "Someone who was once exactly where you are now." Valentina's pulse jumped. "You mean...?" "Yes," the woman interrupted. "His bride." Valentina stared. "You're lying." The stranger chuckled softly. "Am I? Tell me, did he look at you the way he looks at prey or possession?" She took another step forward, and Valentina could finally see the faint scar that slashed down the left side of her throat. The mark looked old, almost healed-but not quite human. "What happened to you?" Valentina whispered. "What always happens," the woman said quietly. "The wolf remembers its hunger." Before Valentina could ask more, footsteps thundered through the courtyard. Guards spilled out from the corridor, and behind them came Alistair-his expression carved in fury, his silver eyes still faintly glowing. The woman's smile vanished. "You shouldn't have come back so soon," she murmured to herself. "Lucia," Alistair's voice was a whip, low and dangerous. "You have five seconds to explain why you're here." Valentina blinked. Lucia. The name hit her like a stone. She'd heard it once-in the whispered rumors her father's men exchanged late at night. Lucia DeVore. Alistair's first fiancée. The one who had supposedly vanished years ago after betraying him. Lucia tilted her head, mock-innocent. "Curiosity. I wanted to meet your new bride." Alistair's gaze cut to Valentina, then back to Lucia. His jaw flexed. "You'll leave. Now." "Still so charming," Lucia purred. "You think you can bury ghosts, but you forget-they crawl back." "Guards," Alistair snapped. The men moved forward, but Lucia only smiled wider. "Careful, darling. You might need me sooner than you think. The curse is growing stronger, isn't it? I can smell it from here." The silver in his eyes flashed like lightning. "Out!" Lucia laughed, low and melodic. "Enjoy your honeymoon, Signora Rossi." She brushed past Valentina, her perfume heavy with jasmine and smoke. Her whisper trailed in the air: "Run while you still can." Then she was gone. The silence that followed was suffocating. Alistair stood there, his chest rising and falling, his knuckles white. Valentina forced herself to speak. "Who is she?" He didn't answer. He turned, shoving a hand through his hair, muttering something under his breath that sounded almost like a growl. "She said she was your bride," Valentina pressed. "Is that true?" He faced her slowly. "She was nothing." "Nothing doesn't leave scars on your throat," Valentina said softly. His eyes hardened. "Be careful what you ask, Valentina. Some truths cut too deep." "Like this one?" She opened her palm. The necklace glittered in the sunlight between them. Alistair froze. "Where did you get that?" His voice was suddenly low, dangerous, but not with anger-with something else. Shock. "It was in your fountain," she said. "This belonged to my mother." He stared at the locket as though it were a ghost. "That's impossible." "Is it?" she said. "You tell me, Alistair. How does something buried with my mother end up in your home?" For the first time since she met him, his composure cracked. His hand came up, then dropped. "Who gave this to you?" "No one. I found it." His eyes flicked toward the iron gate, his jaw tightening. "Then someone wants you to find it." Valentina frowned. "What does that mean?" "It means," he said slowly, "this wasn't an accident." Before she could reply, one of his guards rushed in. "Sir, we found her." Lucia. "Where?" The guard hesitated. "She's dead, sir." Valentina gasped. The guard's voice shook. "Her body was found by the north wing. Torn apart." The blood drained from Valentina's face. Alistair's entire frame stiffened. "Seal the estate," he ordered. "No one leaves, no one enters." "Yes, Alpha." The title slipped out naturally-Alpha. Not boss, not sir. Alpha. When the guards left, Valentina whispered, "It was a wolf, wasn't it?" His expression gave her the answer she didn't want. He turned away. "Go back to your room." "No," she said, heart beating. "If something is out there." "I said go!" The sharpness in his tone cut through her, but beneath it she caught something she hadn't heard before-fear. Not for himself. For her. Still trembling, she obeyed, hurrying down the corridor. But curiosity gnawed at her. She slipped past the staircase and turned down a hall that led to the northern wing. The air grew colder, heavier. The lights flickered overhead. When she reached the courtyard, she stopped. Blood. Everywhere. Streaked across the cobblestones, soaked into the grass. And there-half-hidden behind the marble arch-was Lucia's body. Or what was left of it. Her throat burned, bile rising. The scent of iron filled her nose. She turned to run-and froze. A low growl came from the shadows. Her heart stopped. Two glowing eyes appeared-silver, just like his. "Alistair?" she whispered. The creature stepped forward. It wasn't him. The beast was massive, black fur matted with blood, teeth bared. Its size dwarfed any wolf she'd ever imagined. She stumbled back, tripping on the stones. The thing snarled, crouching low. Before it lunged, a second growl tore through the air-deeper, angrier. Another wolf slammed into the first, sending both creatures crashing into the fountain. Valentina scrambled to her feet, backing away as the two monsters fought. Claws slashed, teeth snapped, the sound echoing like thunder through the courtyard. One wolf was darker, wilder-but the other-its eyes were familiar. Silver. Alistair. Her breath caught as realization sank in. He wasn't just cursed. He was one of them. The fight ended in a blur. The black wolf fled into the woods, leaving Alistair crouched on all fours, blood dripping from his muzzle. For a heartbeat, their gazes met. Man and beast. Then his body convulsed. Fur retracted. Bones cracked. And before her eyes, he shifted-skin replacing fur, breath heaving. He knelt there, human again, naked and trembling under the moonlight. Valentina's mind spun. He lifted his head, eyes clouded with pain. "You weren't supposed to see this," he rasped. "You saved me," she whispered. He laughed weakly, bitterly. "Don't make me sound noble." She took a hesitant step forward, grabbing the cloak from the statue nearby and draping it over his shoulders. His skin burned under her touch. "Who was the other one?" she asked. His jaw clenched. "Not a who. A what. A rogue. Part of a pack that shouldn't exist." "But it was inside your walls." "I know," he said darkly. "Which means someone let it in." Valentina thought of the necklace, the scream, the way Lucia had looked at her. "Lucia," she breathed. "She was already dead before that beast touched her," Alistair said, voice rough. "The attack was meant for you." She felt the blood drain from her face. "Me?" "Yes. Someone wants to send a message. You're not safe here." Her hands shook. "Then why keep me?" He stood, the cloak falling loosely around him, eyes burning with something fierce and unreadable. "Because I protect what's mine." Her pulse raced. "Even if you're the one who caged it?" He looked at her for a long time. Then, quietly, "Especially then." The tension between them thickened-fear, heat, confusion all tangled together. Valentina's voice trembled. "Alistair, if you're cursed-if this is what you are-why marry me at all?" He stepped closer, the faintest trace of sorrow shadowing his face. "Because the Moon Goddess gave me one chance to break it. A mate born under the red moon." Her breath hitched. "And that's me?" He nodded once. "You think I wanted this? That I wanted to chain you to me? I don't. But if I don't claim you, I'll lose everything-my empire, my men, my sanity." "And if you do?" she asked softly. His gaze flicked to her lips. "Then you'll lose yours." The words hung in the air like a spell. Thunder rumbled again, distant and low. Somewhere beyond the walls, another wolf howled-a cry that sounded both warning and promise. Alistair turned toward the sound, every muscle tense. "They're coming back," he muttered. "Who?" "The rogues." He looked back at her, eyes glowing faintly silver again. "Get inside, Valentina. Lock your door." "And you?" she whispered. He gave a crooked, dangerous smile. "I'm going hunting." He disappeared into the mist before she could speak, the night swallowing him whole. Valentina stood there, clutching her mother's locket, heart racing.