Riley’s POV
My brain refuses to process the words at first.
Married.
Today.
To the Alphas.
"What?" I breathe, my voice barely there. "Married to who? Wait—what? No, that’s not... that can’t be real."
Pacifa doesn’t even blink.
She looks at like I’m the one being dramatic, like I’m the strange one in this situation, and before I can push myself off the edge of the tub properly, before I can even stand up straight, she presses her palm against my shoulder and shoves back down with effortless strength.
I gasp as my body sinks into the water.
It’s cold water.
It slides over my skin instantly, stealing the rest of my protest as she turns the tap fully and the sound fills the room. The scent of the water hits next, sothing clean and floral all at once, impossible to ignore.
"Hey—stop—what are you doing?" I try again, my voice echoing weakly against the stone walls.
She ignores completely.
Pacifa pulls at my dress, tugging it up and off like it weighs nothing, then pours soap directly into the water. The bubbles spread fast, thick and white, covering my skin, and before I even realize what’s happening, my hands are moving on their own.
Washing.
My thoughts feel scattered, like everything is happening too fast for my brain to keep up. I don’t rember deciding to bathe. I don’t rember agreeing to any of this. I only know that my body follows her instructions automatically, scrubbing, rinsing, breathing.
In a few minutes, she’s pulling up again, rinsing my hair, rinsing my skin, water sliding down my back and shoulders until I’m shivering.
"That’s enough," she says, satisfied.
She drags out of the tub, wraps nothing around , just pushes forward, tosses clothes at my chest.
"Put it on."
The dress is nothing like what I expect.
It’s not white since it’s a fucking wedding, It’s not even modest.
It’s a long gown, dark and flowing, tight in all the wrong places, sothing that will cling to my waist, my hips, my chest like it was made to show off instead of hide . I stare at it, dread crawling up my spine.
"I don’t wear things like this," I mutter.
Pacifa snorts. "You do today."
She helps into it before I can argue, her fingers adjusting the fabric, smoothing it down my sides, pulling it into place until it fits perfectly, almost too perfectly.
I feel exposed, like the dress brings everything I’ve ever tried to keep private.
She steps back and looks at critically, then reaches for a brush, fixes my hair quickly, adds the bare minimum to my face, nothing heavy.
"Your face doesn’t need makeup," she says casually. "You’re pretty. And absolutely hot for a human."
She winks.
I freeze. "That’s not comforting."
She just laughs and grabs my hand.
"Co."
Before I can pull away, she’s already dragging toward the door. When it opens, the hallway outside seems different now.
As we walk, several eyes turn towards us.
Not in curiosity but in hunger.
They stare openly at , so of them licking their lips, so of them whispering to each other like I’m sothing being presented, sothing about to be consud. My skin crawls, and I instinctively wrap my arms around myself, but the dress makes it useless.
We descend a few steps, and then suddenly Pacifa shoves forward into another room.
The door slams shut behind .
I spin around, heart racing and then I see them.
Gunnar.
Caden.
Cane.
All three of them are standing there, dressed in suits that fit them like they were tailored around their bodies. The sight hits so hard I have to swallow just to breathe.
Cane is the first thing I notice. His hair is styled to the side, neat but effortless, the front falling slightly over his forehead in a way that makes him look unfairly handso, like he knows exactly how dangerous that soft look is.
Then Caden is the second. His hair is parted cleanly at the side, smooth, framing his face perfectly. It sharpens his features, makes his eyes stand out more, gives him this calm, confident look that feels intentional like he’s stepping into a role he was born for.
And then Gunnar.
My breath catches.
His hair is pulled back completely, bound tight into jet black perfection, every strand perfect, every inch of him composed. He looks colder like this, more distant, more powerful.
I gulp hard.
"What is this madness?" I demand, my voice shaky despite my effort to sound strong. "And where is my husband?"
They all turn their backs to at once. It feels intentional.
Cane speaks without looking at . "Don’t worry, Riley. You can go back to being his wife after getting married to us today."
My stomach drops.
"You can leave," he continues calmly, "but after thirty days, you’ll divorce him. We want to marry you properly first."
Caden adds casually, like he’s talking about the weather, "And then consummate our marriage."
"What?" I yelp, heat rushing to my face instantly. "Consummate what?"
I almost scread.
I drag my hands down my face, mortified, overwheld, furious. "What the hell have I gotten myself into?"
I hear movent, but Gunnar still hasn’t said a word.
He lifts his wrist, fastens sothing that looks like a watch around his wrists, adjusts it once, then turns and walks out of the room without a single glance back.
Cane and Caden turn to , smiling like this is all normal.
"Co on," Cane says lightly. "Let’s go."
Before I can protest again, they’re already guiding forward.
The hall we arrive in steals what little breath I have left.
It’s massive.
High ceilings, chandeliers hanging like stars, lights glowing softly but brightly enough to illuminate everything. The place feels unreal, like sothing out of a dream I didn’t ask to have.
How did they plan this?
When?
The crowd is already gathered, rows and rows of people filling the space, their attention snapping to the second I step inside. My legs almost give out, panic surging in but Cane and Caden each take one of my arms, steadying , holding up.
"We’ve got you," Caden murmurs.
I don’t answer.
My eyes scan the room wildly, searching for anyone familiar in this place or perhaps I’m only strange one and then I see her.
Sumr.
The little girl I hit with my car.
She’s standing near the front, looking small and innocent, her eyes lighting up when she sees . She lifts her hand and waves.
My chest tightens.
Before I can even react, I notice soone beside her.
Gunnar.
He bends and lifts her effortlessly, settling her on his hip like it’s the most natural thing in the world. She laughs, wraps her arms around his neck, completely comfortable.
I stare at them, stunned.
I turn my head toward Cane and Caden, confusion written all over my face.
Cane smiles faintly. "Oh, Gunnar adores that child. Don’t be surprised."
I nod slowly, still trying to make sense of it.
We reach a high podium and step up together. My heart is pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears.
Then soone approaches behind , I can feel it so I turn and my heart sinks straight into my stomach.
Daphne. Again!
She looks smug, satisfied, dressed perfectly for the occasion, her eyes glittering with sothing dark and pleased.
"Congratulations," she says sweetly. "On marrying my brothers."
She doesn’t wait for a response.
She walks away smirking.
I feel sick.
Just then, an old man steps up to the podium, holding a microphone. He looks ancient, powerful in a chilling way, his presence commanding imdiate silence..and he says...
"As of today, Cane Dravenmoor, Caden Dravenmoor and Gunnar Dravenmoor solely —"
"I object to that union! "An old heavy voice thundered
User Comments
0 comments from readers