Chapter 1: The Unwanted Vow

Chapter 1: The Unwanted Vow

The air in the clearing was frigid, carrying a false peace that did nothing to soothe the fire of rebellion in Elara’s veins. The ceremonial silks she wore, a deep forest green meant to symbolize new growth, felt more like a burial shroud. They were a lie. There would be no growth here, only submission.

Across from her stood Alpha Kaelan Stonefang. He was exactly as the whispers described: a monolith of a man, carved from the same harsh granite as his mountain territory. His black hair was a wild mess, defying the solemnity of the occasion, and his stormy blue eyes watched her not as a bride, but as a newly acquired asset. A perpetual scowl was etched onto his face, a clear sign that he found this political theater as distasteful as she did.

He was the personification of everything her pack was not. Where the Silvermoon wolves valued strategy, diplomacy, and swift grace, the Stonefang pack revered brute strength and unyielding dominance. And Kaelan was their Alpha, their ultimate expression of that creed.

The Elder from a neutral pack stood between them, his voice a dry rasp as it cut through the tense silence. Around them, the two packs stood segregated, a visual representation of their long-standing animosity. Her Silvermoon kin, with their sleek builds and watchful eyes, stood on one side. On the other, the Stonefang warriors, broad-shouldered and radiating raw power, looked on with undisguised suspicion.

"We gather today not in celebration," the Elder began, his words devoid of joy, "but in grim necessity. The Shattered Claw grows bolder. They bleed our borders, preying on the weak, seeking to break the traditions that have kept us strong. Alone, we fall. Together, we may stand."

Elara’s jaw tightened. The Shattered Claw. A plague of feral rogues, united under a banner of chaos. They were the reason she was here, being sold like chattel to seal a desperate alliance. Her father, Alpha Valerius Silvermoon, stood at the forefront of her pack, his face a mask of regal sorrow. He met her gaze for a fleeting second, and in his eyes, she saw the apology he would never speak. It is for our people, that look said. But it felt like a betrayal nonetheless. All her years of training in diplomacy and tactics, all the grooming to one day help lead her pack, were being cast aside. She was being reduced to her womb, a vessel to bind two bloodlines.

"Kaelan of the Stonefang, do you take this woman?" the Elder asked, his gaze falling upon the dark Alpha.

Kaelan’s eyes never left hers. There was no warmth in them, only a possessive, assessing light that made her skin crawl. "I do," he bit out. The words were not a vow of love, but a statement of acquisition.

"Elara of the Silvermoon, do you take this man?"

The world seemed to hold its breath. Every fiber of her being screamed No! She wanted to rip the silk from her body, shift into her silver wolf form, and run until the scent of Stonefang territory was a distant memory. But she saw the faces of her people. She saw the fear they tried so hard to hide. Her defiance would condemn them.

Her pride was a bitter pill, but she swallowed it whole. "I do," she forced out, her voice a ghost of its usual strength. It was the hardest thing she had ever done.

"Then join hands," the Elder commanded.

Kaelan reached for her, his movements economical and devoid of any gentleness. His hand was large, calloused, and hot against her own. The moment their skin touched, a jolt, raw and electric, shot up her arm. It was a dizzying, unwelcome shock. Her inner wolf, the part of her she could not control with logic or resentment, stirred in recognition of his overwhelming Alpha power. It was an instinctual pull, a biological craving for the mate her human mind despised. She saw a flicker of surprise in his blue eyes, a brief widening that told her he felt it too. He quickly masked it, his grip tightening almost painfully, a silent warning against any struggle.

"By the blood of the first wolves and the light of the moon, you are now one. One pack, one future, one flesh." The Elder made a final gesture, and it was done.

A smattering of formal, unenthusiastic howls rose from both sides, the sound hollow and forced. There were no cheers, no feasting to follow. This was a treaty signed in flesh, not a wedding.

Kaelan dropped her hand as if it burned him. "It is done," he said, his voice a low rumble that brooked no argument. He turned to his pack, not to her. "We leave."

Just like that. Her life, bartered and sold, was over.

He didn't wait for her. He simply started walking toward the edge of the clearing where his warriors were gathering, expecting her to follow like a well-trained dog. Fury, sharp and clean, cut through her despair. She held her ground, forcing him to stop and turn back, his scowl deepening into a thunderous glower.

Elara walked first to her father. "I have done my duty," she said, her voice low and laced with ice.

Valerius reached out, his hand hovering over her shoulder before falling away. "You have secured our future, Elara. Be strong."

"You taught me to be a strategist, not a sacrifice," she whispered, her words for him alone. She saw the flash of pain in his eyes before he hardened his expression once more. There was nothing more to say.

With her head held high, masking the tremor in her soul, Elara walked toward her new fate. She moved past Kaelan without looking at him, her back ramrod straight. She was Elara of the Silvermoon, and she would not be cowed.

The Stonefang wolves parted for her, their gazes heavy and hostile. They were larger than her people, scarred and grim. They smelled of pine, cold stone, and blood. Her pack smelled of damp earth and living forests. The difference was a chasm.

Kaelan fell into step beside her, his presence a suffocating weight. He set a punishing pace, leading them away from the neutral ground and toward the jagged peaks of the Stonefang mountains that loomed on the horizon like teeth.

She didn't look back. Looking back would mean acknowledging everything she had lost. Her home, her future, her name. She was no longer Elara Silvermoon. She was, by their laws, Elara Stonefang now.

The name tasted like ash in her mouth.

As the trees of her homeland began to thin, giving way to the rocky, unforgiving terrain of her new life, she cast a sidelong glance at the Alpha walking beside her. He was her husband. Her keeper. Her enemy.

He might have claimed her with a vow, but the silver wolf within her was not broken. It was simply waiting. And in the cold, silent war that was to be their marriage, she would not be the first to surrender.