married to the enemy

fate

I gasped, twisting in alarm, but the grip was iron. When I looked up, my heart plummeted.

Gregor.

One of my father’s most trusted men. Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in dark clothes that made him blend into the night. His expression was unreadable, but his grip tightened when I struggled.

“Going somewhere, Alina?” His voice was calm. Too calm.

Panic surged through me. I tried to yank my arm free, but he barely moved.

“Let me go,” I hissed.

Gregor sighed, like he had expected this. “You know I can’t do that.”

I clenched my jaw. “I’ll scream.”

He smiled, but it wasn’t kind. “You could. But would it change anything?”

I hated that he was right. No one in this house would help me. Not even the walls would echo my cries.

Still, I fought. I kicked, twisted, dug my nails into his skin, but he didn’t even flinch. Damn it. I should have known better. Gregor wasn’t just any guard—he was my father’s shadow. If he was here, that meant my father already knew.

Fear turned cold in my veins.

Gregor exhaled, his patience wearing thin. “Let’s not make this difficult.”

Difficult? My entire life was difficult.

I stopped struggling, meeting his gaze head-on. “If you take me back inside, I will find another way to leave.”

He studied me for a long moment before shaking his head. “It’s not up to me.”

Then, without another word, he lifted me effortlessly into his arms. I thrashed, cursing, but it was useless.

My escape was over before it had even begun.

Gregor carried me through the front doors like I was nothing more than a wayward child. My struggles had ceased by the time we reached my father’s study—not out of surrender, but because I knew it wouldn’t make a difference. My body was tense, coiled like a spring, but I forced my breathing to slow. I had to be smart now.

When Gregor pushed open the door to my father’s study, I found him seated at his desk, fingers interlocked, eyes heavy with something that looked like disappointment—but beneath it, something else flickered. Was it guilt?

“I hoped you wouldn’t be foolish enough to try this, Alina.”

I swallowed hard. “I—”

“Sit.”

I hesitated. He barely raised his eyes to me, yet the weight of his words crushed my resolve. Slowly, I lowered myself into the chair across from him.

For a moment, there was only silence. Then he sighed.

“You should know by now that running is useless.”

I clenched my fists. “Then why lock me in this house? Why send men to guard me? If I have no choice, why all this effort?”

His gaze finally met mine. “Because it’s my responsibility to ensure you go through with this.”

I wanted to scream. Instead, I forced my voice to stay steady. “You’re selling me.”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t deny it.

And that silence—that quiet acceptance—made my stomach twist more than if he’d shouted at me.

His hand moved toward a folder on his desk. My name was on the first page. My heart pounded.

“Your life will change, Alina,” he said, flipping it open. “But you’ll have everything you need. Power. Influence. Protection.”

Protection from what?

My nails dug into my palms. “And what if I say no?”

A pause. A slow, deliberate glance at Gregor, still standing at the door.

Then, my father looked at me and said, “Then you force my hand.”

I knew what that meant. There were no threats needed. No screaming. The decision had already been made—I was just the last to accept it.

They locked me in my room after that.

Three days had passed, though it felt like an eternity. Three days of silence, of solitude, of being locked away like a prisoner in my own home. The door to my room remained shut, only opening briefly when my meals were left outside. Meals I barely touched.

Hunger gnawed at my stomach, but it was nothing compared to the hollow ache inside me.

Outside my window, guards stood at every post, their dark figures unmoving. Even in the garden below—where I had once stolen moments of peace—there was no escape. My father had made sure of that.

And now, it was the day.

The day I would be handed over to strangers.

The day I would disappear into the unknown.

Muted voices drifted through the walls—the shuffle of hurried feet, the murmurs of maids discussing final touches, the clinking of silverware as a grand feast was prepared. Not for me. For the spectacle.

I swallowed against the dryness in my throat.

I wanted to scream, to fight, to do something—anything—to stop this. But I had spent three days battering against an unmovable wall. My father had given his answer. My fate had been decided long before I ever thought to resist.

A knock at the door shattered the quiet.