Chapter 2 A BRIDE FOR THE LYCAN KING.

Venessa's POV.

My body moved on autopilot. Through the hall, past the blur of faces that probably knew, up the stairs, down the long corridor to my room. The lock clicked behind me, and finally, the world went quiet. I slid down to the floor, my back against the door, and just… breathed as the tears flowed down.

Downstairs, the wedding preparations were still going on—laughter, last-minute sewing, the clatter of trays but up here, it was just me and the four walls of my room.

And the hollow space in my chest where the bond had been.

It was just… empty. Like when you’re so hungry it stops hurting and just becomes a dull, constant nothing. The mate bond had been real. For one second, my whole life had made sense, had a direction. And then he’d ripped it out by the roots. Now I was just me again. Venessa. The spare twin. The one who carries things.

I stopped crying. I was too tired for that. I just sat there in the dark, watching the moon make square patterns on my rug.

After a while, there was a soft knock. “Venessa?” Mom’s voice. She sounded worn out. “Sweetie, can you come help Elara with her veil and dress? You know how she gets with the pins, it's the final fitting.”

I closed my eyes. Of course. The dress. The final touch.

“I’m not coming out,” I said, my voice rough from not using it.

A pause. "Please? For your sister.”

For your sister. The mantra of my life.

“Later,” I said, but I didn't mean that.

I listened to her footsteps fade. I knew I was being difficult, but the energy to be anything else—to be helpful, to be compliant had been scraped out of me. I changed out of the clothes I’d worn to the Pack House, the fabric still carrying a faint, mocking trace of pine. I pulled on soft pants and a worn sweater, needing the comfort of something that was purely mine.

The house eventually settled. The real quiet came in, the kind that feels heavy. I got up, my joints stiff, and went to the window. The cold night air felt good. It washed the memory of lilies scent out of my head.

That’s when I saw her.

A flash of white, moving quick and quiet across the lawn. Elara. Still in one of her fancy robes. She wasn’t going for a calm, bridal walk. She was sneaking. She looked over her shoulder, then disappeared into the trees.

My heart gave a slow, thick beat. Where was she going?

I didn’t think. I just went. Slipping out was easy—I’ve had a lot of practice being unseen. The grass was cold under my feet. I followed her into the woods, keeping my distance. I didn’t need to see her; I could follow the sound of her rushing, the smell of her jasmine perfume mixed with something else. Nerves.

She led me to the old creek. Our place. When we were kids, we’d built a fort here and swore we’d tell each other everything.

Someone else was already there.

He stepped out from behind the big oak like a shadow taking shape. Kaelen. He didn’t move, didn’t smile. He just waited.

Elara rushed up to him. “I can’t do it,” she whispered, “After tomorrow, it’s over.”

He said something low, I couldn’t catch it. Then he reached out and put a finger under her chin, lifting her face. It wasn’t a tender move. It was like he was inspecting her. And she leaned into it, her whole body going soft.

Then he kissed her.

The emptiness in my chest just got bigger, colder. It all clicked together in my head, the pieces fitting perfectly. My dad sending me to the Pack House. Kaelen rejecting me in front of everyone. The timing. I wasn’t just unlucky. I was the decoy. The pathetic one everyone would gossip about, so no one would look too closely at her.

I took a step back without meaning to. A dry twig snapped under my foot.

The sound cracked through the clearing.

They jumped apart. Elara turned, and her eyes found mine in the dark. For a second, she wasn’t the perfect future Queen. She was just my sister, caught. And she looked terrified. Not sorry. Scared.

She made a weird, choked noise, grabbed her stupidly beautiful robes, and ran. Just crashed right through the bushes back toward the house, leaving me alone with him.

Kaelen didn’t run. He just turned his head and looked at me like I was a bug in his window. He actually looked… annoyed.

He walked over, taking his time. “Following people now?” he said,

“I was getting air,” I said. My own voice sounded distant. “Seems like we all are doing that tonight.”

A cold little smile touched his mouth. “Your sister is under a lot of pressure. She needed to… talk.”

“It looked like a very deep conversation.”

He studied me, his head tilted. “You’re taking this better than I expected. I thought there’d be more screaming. More drama.”

I shrugged. It was a weird, stiff movement. “What’s the point? The show’s over. You got what you wanted.”

“Did I?” He took another step closer. The air between us felt sick and wrong, the broken bond like a rotten tooth. “It must still hurt. Knowing she has what you wanted.”

He wanted me to say it. To say I wanted him. To feed his stupid ego.

“It doesn’t matter what I wanted,” I said, looking past him at the trees. “The bond’s gone."

His eyes narrowed. “You’re a strange girl.”

“And you’re a predictable guy,” I said, and I finally looked right at him. “Does her soon to be husband know about these little talks?”

All the fake amusement left his face. “Some things,” he said softly, “are best kept quiet. For the good of the pack. It was… efficient. My father needed to see I was ruthless enough to sever a personal tie for pack stability. Your father needed to see his lesser daughter was no threat to the valuable alliance. And Elara…” he shrugged. “Elara needed to understand that her value is conditional, and that I hold the terms.”

The brutal, political calculus of it was so clean it took my breath away. I wasn’t a person. I was  a message, sent to three different people.

“And the bond?” The question left my lips before I could stop it.

His smirk vanished. “A biological inconvenience. One I have the will to override. You should try it.” He looked me up and down, that cold curiosity back in his gaze. “Though I doubt you have the strength. You look… fragile. You understand loyalty, don’t you?”

It was a threat. A shiny, pretty threat.

“I understand when I’m bored,” I said. I turned around and walked away. Leaving my back to him was the hardest thing I’d ever done, but I did it. I walked slowly, like I had all the time in the world, until the trees hid me from his sight.

The house was silent. I didn’t go to my room. I went to the kitchen, poured a glass of water, and drank it slowly, my mind whirring. The hollow ache in my chest was now background noise to the furious, clicking puzzle in my head.

I heard her rushing down the main stairs. I walked out into the hallway just as she reached the bottom. She froze when she saw me. Her hair was a mess and her eyes were red-rimmed.

We faced each other in the dim hall light.

"Happy?” she finally said, her voice brittle.

“Thrilled,” I replied, my tone sarcastic. “It’s been a fantastic night for me all around .”

"Good talk?” I asked.

“Venessa, you don’t get it—”

“I get enough,” I said, cutting her off. My voice was quiet. “Just answer me one thing. Did you know? When Dad sent me to the Pack House last night, did you know about the rejection?”

Her face twisted. “You think this is about you? This is about the future of our whole pack! It’s about alliances you couldn’t possibly—”

“So that’s a yes,” I said. The confirmation settled in my stomach like a stone.

“Go to bed, Elara,” I said, exhaustion washing over me. “You have a big day tomorrow playing the blushing bride.”

I had no mate. My sister had betrayed me. My father saw me as a bargaining chip. And my future was a blank, dark page.

I sat there as the sky turned from black to grey to soft pink. The house woke up. The energy changed, getting faster, more frantic. This was it. Wedding day.

A scream tore through the house like a lightning strike.

It was Mom. And it wasn’t a happy scream.

Then came the running, the shouting, the slam of doors. I stood up and opened my door just as my father stormed past. His face was white. He didn’t even see me.

I followed the noise to Elara’s room.

Mom was clinging to the door frame, crying silently. The room was… perfect. And totally empty. The bed was made. The huge wedding dress hung alone on the closet door. Her drawers were open, but only the practical stuff was gone—her warm clothes, her boots, the little bag of money she kept.

On her perfect, fluffed pillow was a note.

Two words.

I’m sorry.

My father turned from the window. He looked at the dress, the note, then his eyes landed on me. The fear in them was real, and it was an animal.

“Where is she?” he demanded, his voice shaking.

“How would I know?”

“Did you do this? Did you chase her away with your moping?”

The question was so stupid I almost laughed.

“She chased herself,” I said. “Probably to wherever he is.”

He understood immediately. His face went even paler. He knew I knew about Kaelen.

“This is your fault!” he roared, spittle flying. “Your tension, your attitude last night! You drove her to this!”

“Maybe she realized she didn’t like the terms of her deal.” I said, my voice calm which seemed to infuriate him more.

A guard appeared, panting. “Beta! The Lycan honor guard is at the gates! They are here to escort the bridal party to the border!”

The blood drained completely from my father’s face. He looked from the guard, to my weeping mother, to me. I saw the moment the desperate, unthinkable plan formed in his mind. His eyes locked on me with a terrifying intensity.

“Get dressed,” he commanded, his voice hoarse.

“What?”

“In her dress. The wedding gown. Now.”

The words hung in the air, absurd and horrific. “You’re out of your mind,” I whispered.

He crossed the room in two strides, grabbing my shoulders. “If that Lycan convoy leaves without a bride, their King will see it as the ultimate insult. He will declare war. He will burn our territory, kill our warriors, take our children as slaves. Your mother. Your friends. Everyone. Is your pride worth their lives?”

He shook me, hard. “Is it?”

I stared into his desperate, furious eyes. This wasn’t a request. It was a threat, wrapped in the guise of pack survival. Saying no meant condemning everyone I’d ever known. Saying yes meant erasing myself.

“I won’t,” I said, my voice trembling now. “I can’t.”

“You can, and you will.” He released me and turned to the guards. “Take her. Get her into the gown. Use force if you have to.”

I fought. I really fought. I shoved, I kicked, I scratched. But there were too many of them.

They hauled me to the dressing room where Elara’s monstrous, beautiful wedding dress waited, a prison made of satin and pearls.

As they laced me into it, tighter and tighter, I stopped struggling. The fight drained out of me, replaced by a cold, hard shock. This was really happening. They were going to put me in a carriage and send me to a stranger, to a foreign pack, to pay for my sister’s betrayal.

My father entered as they finished pinning the veil. He looked at me, a stranger in white, and his jaw was clenched. “You will not speak unless spoken to. You will keep your head down. You will do nothing to make them suspect. Do you understand? The survival of our pack depends on this performance.”

I didn’t answer. I just looked at him, letting him see the complete absence of his daughter in my eyes.

He looked away first. “Take her to the carriage.”

They led me out, a sacrificial lamb in a dress. The Lycan guard watched me approach. Their leader, an older man gave me one scrutinizing glance, then nodded to my father. The lie was accepted.

As the carriage door shut, sealing me in, I finally looked back at my home. My father stood on the steps, my mother sobbing into her hands behind him.

The broken bond in my chest was just a ghost now. The real trap was just ahead. And I was walking into it with my eyes wide open.