Chapter 1: The Forced Betrothal
1325 Words
The scent of lavender and pine clung to the air like a memory that wouldn’t leave. Aria paced the length of her room, bare feet thudding softly on the stone floor. Outside her window, the moon climbed higher into the sky, half-shrouded in a blanket of clouds. Her chest ached from the weight of the decision pressing down on her like a blade across her throat.
“You promised me a choice,” she hissed, voice barely above a whisper, yet hot with rage. “You promised I’d get to choose.”
Her father’s silence echoed louder than any denial. He sat in the carved oak chair by the hearth, a goblet of aged wine cradled in his hand, as if this was just another evening and not the unraveling of her future.
“I gave you time,” Alpha Rylen said at last. His voice was measured, almost bored, the way it always was when he’d made up his mind and was simply waiting for everyone else to catch up. “Three years, Aria. Three years to prove you were ready to lead. You refused every proposal, every alliance. This one ensures peace.”
“Peace,” she spat. “You’re selling me off like livestock.”
Rylen’s eyes snapped to her, hard and unblinking. “Mind your tongue.”
She stepped forward, heart pounding. “He’s twice my age. He murdered his own beta in front of his pack—”
“That was dealt with under his law,” her father cut in. “And you will not question the strength of an allied Alpha.”
“I will not marry Daxon Thorne,” she said, voice shaking now. Not from fear—but fury. “You might as well rip my wolf from me.”
He stood, and the room seemed to shrink with his presence. Even at his age, Rylen’s power rolled off him like thunder in a storm. “Then you’ll force my hand. I cannot leave our bloodline in limbo. The pact with Silverclaw is sealed. The ceremony is in four days.”
Aria’s world tilted.
“Four days?” Her voice cracked. “You made the deal before telling me.”
He didn’t deny it.
That was answer enough.
Her knees nearly gave way, but she locked them straight, refusing to break in front of him. She turned on her heel, storming toward the door.
“You’ll disgrace this family if you run,” Rylen warned.
Aria paused, hand on the doorknob. “If staying means binding myself to a killer, then I’d rather be nameless.”
Her voice was a whisper, but it struck like a howl.
She didn’t look back.
***
The wind bit at her face as she raced through the trees, moonlight flashing between the trunks. Her wolf paced under her skin, tense and silent. The woods behind the estate had always been a refuge, a place where her body could run wild and her mind could breathe. But tonight, they felt like a prison with invisible walls, closing in.
She dropped to her knees at the edge of the river, gulping in air, heart thudding like war drums. The bag she’d slung across her back was small—only what she could carry. Clothes. Her mother’s dagger. The leather-bound training journal she wasn’t ready to leave behind.
“I need a plan,” she muttered. “Think, Aria. You’re not a child.”
The Alpha Academy came to mind.
No one would look for her there.
It was male-only, of course, hidden in the mountains and shrouded in enough secrecy that even locating it took a miracle—or a brother dumb enough to brag about the entry route.
Jax.
Her twin had told her everything, once, over campfire and stolen whiskey. Before he died. Before Rylen’s ambitions turned cruel and strategic. Aria blinked hard against the sting behind her eyes.
She would take his name.
Jax never got to finish the path meant for him. Maybe this was her way of honoring him. Maybe this was survival. Either way, it was the only way out.
***
The next morning, Aria stood in front of the mirror in the small abandoned cabin near the riverbank, staring at a stranger.
Her hair, once long and thick, lay in uneven tufts around her feet. Her jaw looked sharper now, her cheeks hollow from the night’s emotional exhaustion. She wrapped her chest tightly with cloth, grunting as she pulled it taut. The academy wouldn’t allow weakness—physical or otherwise.
She slipped into the academy uniform she’d stolen from one of the lesser-ranked scouts during their patrol last week. It fit better than she expected, though the sleeves were long and the shoulders stiff. She looked… like Jax.
“You’ve got one shot,” she told her reflection. “Don’t screw this up.”
***
Getting into the Academy wasn’t the hard part.
Wolves recognized strength. Aria’s posture, her calculated silence, her confident stride—they all spoke for her. Her wolf didn’t flinch when the guards scanned her. She held her breath as they sniffed the air around her, praying the herbal salve she’d brewed to mask her scent would hold.
It did.
Barely.
By sunset, she was led through massive gates into a world few ever saw: towering stone buildings, a massive open field for combat training, and dozens of young males with the swagger of future Alphas. Every one of them could kill her—or worse—if they knew the truth.
“You’ll bunk with him,” the gruff trainer muttered, handing her a key. “Try not to piss him off.”
“Him?” Aria asked, eyes narrowing.
The trainer snorted. “Kade. The top of the chain. Best fighter we’ve had in a decade.”
Aria’s stomach twisted. “Right.”
Kade.
Of course.
***
When she opened the dorm door, the scent hit her first—clean musk, like cedarwood and storm. Strong, intoxicating. Dangerous.
He stood by the window, shirtless, towel slung over one shoulder, muscles tense as if he’d sensed her before she walked in. He turned slowly, dark eyes locking with hers.
Aria’s lungs forgot how to function.
He was beautiful in a way that hurt. Sharp cheekbones. Tan skin. Hair that curled slightly at the ends, damp from a shower. And those eyes—black and unreadable.
“You’re the new one?” he asked, voice low and rough.
She cleared her throat, forcing the edge into her tone. “Yeah. Ari.”
He studied her a beat too long. “You look young.”
Aria squared her shoulders. “Looks can lie.”
Kade raised a brow, then smirked. “I hope you can fight as well as you talk.”
He stepped aside, motioning toward the bed opposite his. “You snore, I throw you out the window.”
“Fair.”
He laughed once—short, surprised. “You’ll last a week. Maybe.”
“I plan to do better than that.”
His smile faded, replaced with something more curious. “We’ll see.”
***
That night, Aria lay in her new bed, staring at the ceiling, every sense on fire.
The scent in the room—his scent—was driving her wild. It stirred something deep in her, primal and confused. Her wolf stirred, restless.
No. Not now. Not him.
She rolled onto her side, fists clenched beneath the blanket, breathing slow and shallow. Kade lay on the other bed, one arm behind his head, silent. She could feel him watching her.
“You’re not what you seem,” he said into the dark.
Aria’s heart thudded.
“I’ve met enough wolves to know what I smell.”
Her blood turned to ice.
But then he said, almost to himself, “You smell like trouble.”
She didn’t respond. Couldn’t.
Trouble was safer than the truth.
- Writer
