MARRIED TO THE ENEMY

JULIA'S POV The knife is cold against my thigh. Nobody else in this dressing room knows it is there. They see a blushing bride, a girl trembling at the enormity of what today means. They are not wrong about the trembling, but they are wrong about everything else. I study my reflection in the mirror, and for a moment I barely recognize the woman staring back. Lucinda's face—golden-haired, dewy, the face of a girl who has never once gone hungry — sits over mine like a mask I can almost forget I am wearing. Almost. “Come on, Lucinda.” The woman who believes herself to be my mother appears at my shoulder, her smile crumpling with happy tears. “We are going to be late.” I practice it one final time: the warm curve of the lips, the soft lowering of the lashes. Then I turn to her. “Okay, Mum. Let’s go to my wedding.” She pulls me into a tight hug that smells of cedar and relief and I let her, counting the seconds until she steps back. “You are going to smear my makeup,” I say with a forced smile. She laughs and lets go, fussing at the maids to gather my train, and I turn back to the mirror one last time. The knife now feels warm against my skin. I smile at the woman in my reflection. Soon. * * * It is inside the car, as the driver turns toward the Bloodhounds estate, that my mother says the name I have been bracing for. “Jamie loves you, sweetheart. You have nothing to fear.” Jamie. Jameson Montgomery. Son of Alpha Reginald of the Bloodhounds Pack. The boy who grew up heir to the throne built on my family’s bones. My mother keeps talking—her voice warm, her hands folding and unfolding in her lap and I watch the treeline blur past the window and let the memory come, because it always comes when I least want it to. * * * I was eleven the last time I hid in Amber’s closet. She had been scolding me for ten minutes before she finally gave up and went to help my mother in the kitchen. “I’ll be back soon. I promise,” She had said with a smile of certainty. I smiled back, I had no reason not to believe her—but I was wrong. I hadn’t counted to fifty when I heard screams. Not just Amber’s scream, but the whole pack’s. I rushed out of Amber’s room and found the maids running, their faces contorted in fear. Anxiously, I grabbed one by the arm. “What is going on?” She yanked her arm free and shoved me out of the way, only to keep running. I followed her outside. Then I saw it. There was blood everywhere, in the corridor, on the floor. I followed the long trail until I found Amber. She was on the floor, covered in blood, her lips had turned blue and her eyes frozen open. My knees went weak immediately. I remember thinking even then, with my hands shaking and my throat closing, that she had gone out in my place, she had answered my mother’s call because I didn’t want to stop hiding. A guard pulled me away from her side. I remember fighting him off, desperate to remain by Amber’s side, and then I saw the crowd and went still because the image in front of me was too horrifying to handle. My father was on his knees in the dirt, my mother and brother beside him. In front of them stood the largest man I had ever seen, tall and broad shouldered with blood drying on his hands. He was Alpha Reginald of the Bloodhounds Pack. “This is what has become of the great Alpha of the New Moon Pack,” he gloated, kicking my father in the face. My brother, Lucien, rushed to him angrily with his claws drawn, unable to hold his anger back. Before Lucien could even land a blow, Reginald’s hand slashed through his neck in a flash. I watched Lucien’s lifeless body drop to the ground in horror. Mother grabbed him, screaming out his name in tears. Reginald finished her off next, as her wails of sorrow irritated him. He finished my father last, making a show of his death with his men holding him up as he gave the finishing blow. Then my family was gone. I stood there, a girl of eleven, with a flame of rage lit in my chest that had not gone out in ten years. * * * “Lucinda, we are here.” The car has stopped and, through the window, I can see the entrance to the ceremony grounds, lined with white flowers and elaborate archways. The pack members are seated patiently waiting for me to step out. “Are you okay?” my mother squeezes my hand, her brows furrowed in worry. “Yeah,” I smile, squeezing back. “Pre-wedding nerves.” “Don’t worry, he is going to make you so happy.” I smile the smile I have been practicing for ten years. Today marks the first step.