The Forced Bride

The night stretched long and restless after Alistair vanished into the mist. Valentina stood frozen in the courtyard, gripping her mother's locket so tightly that the edges dug into her palm. Every sound seemed louder-the whisper of wind through the olive trees, the faint creak of the gates, the echo of distant howls. She should've run back inside as he ordered, but something in her refused to move. She didn't trust safety that came from obedience. Not anymore. It took almost an hour before she finally crept back into the mansion. The corridors glowed with the dim light of sconces, and somewhere in the distance, the clock struck midnight. The halls felt emptier than ever. Servants were nowhere to be seen. Guards-gone. The silence was unnatural, as if the house itself was holding its breath. When she reached the grand staircase, she heard something-a faint metallic scrape. She paused. It came again. Slowly, she followed the sound to the east wing, where the walls grew darker and colder. A draft slipped through a cracked door at the end of the hallway. She pushed it open. The air inside smelled of damp earth and metal. The room was small-more like a cellar. Old crates were stacked in one corner, covered in dust. In the center, half-buried under a torn tarp, she saw it: a steel cage. A large cage. The kind that could hold something... alive. Her stomach turned. Inside the cage, chains hung from the bars-thick, reinforced with silver. Dried blood streaked the floor beneath. Valentina's heart slammed against her ribs. He kept one of them here. Or maybe... himself. She stepped closer, noticing claw marks gouged into the steel. Whatever had been inside had fought-desperately-to get out. Her breath came fast. "Valentina?" She spun, almost screaming. A man stood in the doorway-a guard she hadn't seen before. He was young, maybe mid-twenties, with close-cropped hair and a scar that ran across his temple. "What are you doing here?" he asked, stepping closer. "I heard something," she said quickly. "Who are you?" "Luca," he said. "Second in command to the Alpha." The word Alpha caught in her chest. "Where's Alistair?" "Hunting," Luca said curtly, eyes flicking to the cage. "You shouldn't be here, Signora." "I'm not afraid," she lied. He gave a humorless smile. "You should be." Her gaze lingered on the bloodstained floor. "Whose cage is that?" For a moment, he didn't answer. Then, softly, "His." She froze. "Alistair's?" Luca nodded once. "When the moon rises too high, he locks himself here-to keep others safe." Her throat tightened. "Safe from what?" He looked at her as though the answer were obvious. "From himself." Valentina took a step back, the air suddenly colder. "Does he... kill?" Luca hesitated, then said, "He tries not to." The honesty in his tone made it worse. She looked around the cage again. "You mean he can't always control it." Luca's jaw tightened. "You should go before he finds you here." "Why? What would he do?" He didn't reply. Her pulse raced. "Tell me, Luca. Why would he?..." "Because he doesn't like being reminded of the monster he is." Something in his voice cracked on that last word, and before she could respond, he turned and left. She stared after him for a long moment, then looked back at the cage. The monster he is. The man she'd just begun to see differently. When she finally returned to her room, dawn was beginning to touch the sky. Pale gold light filtered through the curtains. She sank onto the bed, exhaustion pressing down on her-but her mind wouldn't stop spinning. Lucia's death. The necklace. The other wolf. The cage. Everything pointed back to Alistair. But if he truly wanted her dead, why save her? She drifted in and out of uneasy sleep, haunted by flashes of silver eyes and blood-red roses. A knock at the door jolted her awake. "Enter," she called, voice hoarse. A maid slipped inside, setting a tray of breakfast on the table. "The master wishes to see you in the study," she said quietly. Valentina blinked the sleep from her eyes. "Is he back?" "Yes, Signora. Since dawn." Her pulse quickened. She changed quickly into a simple black dress and followed the maid through the corridors. When she entered the study, Alistair was standing by the window, his shirt sleeves rolled up, the faint trace of bandages visible on his forearm. He looked human again. Controlled. But the exhaustion in his eyes told another story. "You didn't sleep," he said without turning. "Neither did you." He looked over his shoulder, gaze heavy on her face. "You disobeyed me last night." Her chest tightened. "You would've left me to wonder if you were dead." His lips curved faintly, though it wasn't a smile. "You shouldn't have seen what you saw." "You mean the truth?" He sighed, moving to the desk. "You think you want answers, Valentina, but you don't." "Try me." He studied her for a long moment, then said quietly, "That creature wasn't random. Someone inside this estate let it in. Someone who knew our defenses." "Lucia?" she asked. "Maybe," he said. "Maybe not." "Then who?" "I'm still finding out." Her gaze dropped to the bandage on his arm. "You were hurt." He shrugged. "It's nothing." "Does it happen often? Losing control?" His eyes flicked to hers, sharp as glass. "Be careful, Valentina." She held his gaze. "I found the cage." Silence fell. He didn't move. Didn't blink. "How much did you see?" he asked finally. "Enough." He leaned back in his chair, his jaw tightening. "That's where I stay when the full moon rises. When the curse takes over." "Why not tell me?" she demanded. "Why keep it a secret?" "Because," he said softly, "you already look at me like I'm dangerous. I didn't need you to look at me like I'm damned." Her anger faltered. "You think I pity you?" "I think you don't understand what you're married to." He rose, circling the desk slowly until he stood close enough that she could smell the faint musk of smoke and cedar clinging to his skin. "You're here because of a deal. Don't confuse it with destiny." "I didn't," she said quietly. "But you did." His eyes darkened, something fierce flashing through them. "Careful, Valentina." "Or what?" she whispered. "You'll lock me in that cage too?" For a split second, his mask cracked-just a flicker of pain-and then it was gone. He stepped back. "You may go." She hesitated. "Alistair." "Go." The word carried finality. She left the study with her pulse racing and her mind in chaos. Later that afternoon, she wandered through the garden again. The blood had been cleaned, but the air still smelled faintly metallic. Workers moved quietly, scrubbing stone, replacing broken marble. Something glittered near the fountain. She knelt, half-expecting another ghost from her past. But it was only a ring-plain gold, engraved with a wolf's head. When she picked it up, a voice behind her said, "That belonged to the Alpha's father." She turned. Luca stood in the shadows again. "His father?" she asked. He nodded. "Before he died, he made Alistair swear to protect both worlds-the human and the beast. But some in the pack believe he's failed." "Failed how?" "By marrying you," Luca said flatly. "They think you weaken him." Her stomach twisted. "Weaken?" He gave a thin smile. "You're his mortal tether. The closer he gets to you, the more human he becomes. And for the wolves... that's unforgivable." Valentina stared down at the ring. "So they want me dead." Luca inclined his head slightly. "Maybe." She shivered. "And what about you, Luca? Do you want me dead?" His smile didn't reach his eyes. "That depends on whether you survive the next moon." Before she could reply, he was gone. That night, Valentina couldn't sleep again. Every creak of the mansion made her flinch. She sat by the window, the moonlight spilling across her hands, the locket warm against her skin. She couldn't stop replaying what Luca said-the closer he gets to you, the more human he becomes. If that was true, then maybe she was the key to his curse. Or maybe she was just another sacrifice waiting to happen. When she finally ventured downstairs for water, she noticed the study door slightly ajar. A faint light glowed inside. She pushed it open quietly. Alistair was there-shirtless, blood still smeared across his shoulder, standing before the mirror. His reflection shimmered strangely, his eyes glowing silver though his expression remained calm. Then, slowly, he reached into his desk drawer and pulled out something wrapped in cloth. He unrolled it-and Valentina's breath hitched. A dagger. Silver, gleaming in the lamplight. Her mother's initials were carved on the hilt. Her heart stopped. He stared at it for a long time, jaw tight, as if at war with himself. Then he murmured something she barely heard-words that made the blood drain from her face. "She shouldn't have known." He wrapped the dagger again and locked it away. Valentina pressed herself against the wall, shaking. She didn't know what terrified her more-that he owned a weapon marked with her mother's name, or that he seemed to know why. When he turned toward the door, she slipped silently back into the shadows, heart hammering, breath ragged. Back in her room, she bolted the door and stared at her reflection. Who was Alistair Rossi, really? The cursed savior who saved her life-or the man who might've taken her mother's?