Cursed to Marry the Alpha

Chapter 5: Every Word He Heard

Elira felt the blood drain from her face.

Damon stepped back just enough to angle himself between her and Marcus, every line of his body shifting into something predatory, coiled, dangerous.

"You've been listening this whole time," Damon said. It wasn't a question.

"Every word." Marcus's smile was thin, satisfied. "The curse. The bond. Your little promise to protect her from herself. Very moving, Alpha Voss. I almost believed you meant it."

"I did mean it."

"Then you're a bigger fool than I thought." Marcus's eyes cut to Elira, and something ugly flickered there — not quite hatred, but close enough to make her skin crawl. "Do you know what happens to a treaty when the Alpha discovers his bride carries a curse that kills her mates? It collapses. Both packs go to war within the week. Hundreds die because your family couldn't be honest."

"Nothing has collapsed," Elira said, forcing steadiness into her voice. "Damon knows. Damon is choosing to continue anyway."

"Damon," Marcus said slowly, "is thinking with something other than his head right now. Give it a week. A month. Once the bond's pull fades enough for him to think clearly, he'll remember exactly what you are. A liability. A walking death sentence for the only thing standing between our packs and open war."

"That's enough," Damon growled, low and warning.

Marcus didn't flinch. "Is it? Or should I take this straight to the council instead? Let them decide whether a cursed bride is an acceptable price for peace?"

The threat landed like a physical blow. Elira's stomach twisted violently — if the council learned the truth before the wedding, everything would unravel. The treaty. The fragile peace. Whatever strange, reckless thing had just started forming between her and Damon in the moonlight.

"What do you want, Marcus?" she asked quietly. "You didn't come out here to lecture us. You came with something specific in mind."

For the first time, something like respect flickered across Marcus's face. "Smart girl."

"What. Do you want."

Marcus glanced toward the estate, toward the lit windows where her father remained blissfully unaware of the conversation happening in his own garden. "Your father has been planning to move against the Voss territory for years. This treaty was never meant to bring peace, Elira. It was meant to buy time — time to gather forces, time to strike when Voss pack least expects it."

Elira's breath caught. Beside her, she felt Damon go rigid.

"That's not possible," she said. "My father wants peace. He's wanted it since—"

"Since your mother died," Marcus finished. "Yes. Grief does strange things to a man's priorities. He wants peace on the surface. Underneath, he wants the Voss pack gone. Permanently. And a cursed bride who can end their Alpha from the inside? That's not a liability, Elira." His smile turned razor-thin. "That's a weapon. And your father has known exactly what he was arming this whole time."

The garden seemed to tilt beneath her feet.

"You're lying," she whispered.

"Am I?" Marcus tilted his head. "Ask yourself why he agreed to this marriage so quickly. Why he never once questioned the curse, even when your mother spent years begging him to take it seriously. He didn't ignore it because he doubted it, Elira. He ignored it because he was counting on it."

Damon's hand found Elira's, gripping tight enough to ground her before she could shatter completely.

"Even if that's true," Damon said, voice dangerously quiet, "it changes nothing about what happens next."

"Doesn't it?" Marcus raised an eyebrow. "Your bride's father is planning your death, Alpha Voss, and using her as the delivery method. I'd think that changes quite a lot."

"It changes who I need to watch," Damon said. "Not what I've already decided."

Marcus studied him for a long moment, some calculation passing behind his eyes. "You're serious. You actually intend to keep this marriage."

"I intend," Damon said, "to find out exactly how deep this goes. Starting with you. How long have you known?"

"Long enough."

"Working for her father, or working for someone else?"

Something flickered across Marcus's face — the first genuine c***k in his composure. "I work for the Ashwood pack. Same as I always have."

"That's not an answer."

Marcus's jaw tightened. "Careful, Voss. You're standing in Ashwood territory, surrounded by Ashwood guards. Threatening me here would be a very poor strategic choice."

"Was that a threat?"

"A fact." Marcus took a step back, straightening his jacket with deliberate calm. "I'll be watching both of you very closely from now on. If this wedding proceeds — and given your apparent devotion, Alpha Voss, I suspect it will — I'll be waiting to see which secret unravels first. The curse. The plot. Or whatever this is." He gestured vaguely between them, something almost mocking in the motion. "Goodnight."

He disappeared back into the shadows of the treeline, leaving Elira and Damon alone beside the fountain, the moonlight suddenly feeling colder than before.

Elira's legs gave out. She sank onto the stone bench, hands trembling in her lap.

"My father," she whispered. "If what Marcus said is true—"

"We don't know it's true." Damon knelt in front of her, taking both her hands in his. "Marcus has every reason to manipulate us right now. Fear makes people easier to control."

"But if it is true—"

"Then we're already ahead of him," Damon said. "Because now we know to look."

Elira searched his face, searching for the anger she expected, the fear, the second thoughts. She found none of it. Just a quiet, unshakable resolve that terrified her almost as much as it steadied her.

"Why aren't you running?" she asked. "A curse that kills you. A father-in-law who might be planning your murder. A guard who just threatened us both. Any reasonable Alpha would already be halfway back to his own territory."

Damon's thumb traced slow circles over her knuckles, his eyes dark and certain in the moonlight.

"Because for the first time in my life," he said quietly, "something finally feels real. And I'm done pretending I don't want to know where it leads."

Behind them, deep in the shadows of the estate, a light flickered on in an upstairs window — her father's study.

Elira's blood went cold.

He was awake. And judging by the shadow pacing behind the curtains, he already knew something had gone wrong in his garden tonight.