The Disabled Alpha's Bride

Getting Werewolf Marriage License

Valeria's POV

The clock had finally ticked past midnight. Eric left without another word, his silhouette sharp and dark, like a shadowy judge delivering a final verdict. Only after his luxury car sped off into the night, disappearing like a stone sinking into the black sea, did the tension in the Nightveil mansion finally dissipate.

I exhaled, thinking the matter had been resolved. But then came the flood of resentment from the remaining Nightveil, squarely directed at me.

Marcus glared, veins bulging on his brow like some alien creature from a sci-fi movie. “Look at what you’ve done!” he roared, his wolf growling alongside him, as if they both wanted to tear me apart.

Ignoring him, I slowly rose from my seat, my long dress sweeping softly across the floor. Parting my lips, I said, “I assumed after everything that happened tonight, Father must be tired.”

The irony hung in the air. I called him "Father" instead of "Alpha Marcus." How funny, how things had changed. I looked into the eyes of the man who despised me and called him my father.

My gaze pierced him, as if I were looking through his very soul. His amber eyes tensed, his wolf threatening to break free and tear me apart. But this time, I didn’t back down. I met his stare. “From now on, I am the Second Daughter of the Nightveil. If you still want Eric's cooperation, you'd better play along with me, Alpha Marcus.”

Seething, Marcus gasped for breath, his finger trembling as he pointed at me. “When did you get close to that Alpha? You dare conspire with an outsider against me? Think you’ve grown up, don’t you? Think you can shake off the Nightveil Pack once and for all?”

I remained calm, my gaze steady. “I wouldn’t dare, Father. But everything is settled now. You know as well as I do who Eric is and what he’d do if he doesn’t get what he wants.”

When Eric had left, his beta added a more precise warning: “Please take good care of Miss Valeria. Any mishap would make Alpha Eric very unhappy.”

In other words, if anything happened to me, the Nightveil Pack could expect ruin at the hands of that supposedly disabled Alpha.

Marcus didn’t dare to defy Eric or the Shadowridge Pack. He had to accept my calling him "Father" and my claim to be his second daughter. Despite sharing Rool River Town, Eric held significant business influence here, and Marcus wanted an alliance. He’d planned for Bella to marry Eric, simple as that—a straightforward marriage of convenience. Little did he expect that I’d end up being the one to marry him.

His fear of Eric only fueled his hatred towards me, his once-obedient ‘blade’, “You! You’re using him to pressure me, aren’t you? How dare you!”

Before he could continue, I cut him off softly. “It’s late. I’ll go tend to my wounds if you’ll excuse me, Father.”

With that, I lifted my skirt, turning to head upstairs, my footsteps soundless as if I were still an unwelcome guest here, careful to leave no trace. But unlike before, my spine—always bowed—now stood straight, as though lifted by an unseen hand.

The scene stung the others from the Nightveil pack, especially the family members of the Everly.

The change didn’t go unnoticed, and it stung the other Nightveil pack members, especially the Alpha couple. But I didn’t care about them anymore. For the first time, I realized that I held a strength, an elegance, that no werewolf—or any other creature—could ignore.

...

Two days later, the rest of the Nightveil had finally processed the reality of my engagement to Eric. Even Marcus had begrudgingly accepted it, knocking on my door with a new demeanor.

No anger, no scolding—only a forced smile and a saccharine tone, like the one he’d used on Eric. “Valeria, how’s your wound? Does it still hurt?” He tried to crinkle his eyes into a smile.

I had seen faces like his before, vampires and others who wore smiles to hide their true intentions. Knowing his game, I replied curtly, “The medicine helped a lot.”

“Good.” He sat in a chair across from me, adopting a consultative tone. “Once your arm heals, we’ll arrange for full-body scar removal. Your hair will be extended, and the calluses on your hands will be softened. My daughter should look the part.”

I listened in silence, and soon his true intent surfaced. “If Eric learns of your identity, it’ll be… difficult. Fine if you get into trouble, but remember, your older sister is still in the hospital.”

A glint of coldness entered my gaze. “Are you threatening me now, Father?”

Marcus gave a yellow-toothed grin. “Not a threat—a reminder. If your identity is exposed, you won’t escape. And if the Nightveil Pack falls, no one will be left to care for your sister.”

His tone was vampiric, cunning and calculated. He even knew I had weaknesses—my sisters.

…

A month flew by.

I’d undergone a full-body scar removal, leaving only one scar, the one from saving Eric. The rough calluses on my hands and feet had been smoothed, leaving the skin as delicate as fine paper. My hair now flowed to my waist, and I looked like a fragile sleeping beauty, similar to Marcus’s real second daughter who was still in a coma.

Today, I had a role to play with no script, no retakes, and no escape. My only audience was Eric, who waited in his car outside.

As it pulled up to the Nightveil mansion, I tightened my grip on my skirt, my nerves betraying me.

Meeting Eric felt much like the first time. He was cold and distant, seated in the back of the car in silence.

Dressed in a black shirt under a gray-blue coat that fell to his feet, his wheelchair's footrest hovered above the ground. My gaze drifted to the hem of his coat and down to his exposed ankle—a delicate, bone-white curve, like the soft gleam of a pearl.

How ironic. He was a powerful Alpha born disabled, subjected to the same scorn I had endured. A strong Alpha yet wolfless. We were perfectly matched in our brokenness.

“Alpha Eric,” I greeted, bowing my head as I’d seen other young lycan women do before powerful alphas.

Eric glanced at me, his gaze faint and unreadable as he took in my transformed appearance. After a month of delicate care, I must have looked vastly different from that night we first met.

I’d opted for simplicity, a bare face with only a hint of color on my lips and brows, my hair cascading naturally.

“Get in,” Eric ordered.

Lifting my skirt, I carefully entered the car. The backseat, remodeled for Eric’s wheelchair, had only one other seat. Though only inches separated us, the chill emanating from him seemed to seep into my bones, like icy mist.

Shifting slightly, I looked out the window.

Eric’s distant presence didn’t bother me; in fact, I found it oddly comforting.

The car quickly slipped through the winding streets, leaving the Nightveil mansion further and further behind. Then Rool River Town spread out before us, its quiet streets a blur under the glow of streetlamps. I finally broke the silence, forcing my voice to sound even and polite. "Thank you for helping me that day, Alpha Eric."

He didn’t respond immediately. The shadows carved by the dim light played across his face, giving him an ethereal, almost ghostly appearance. At last, he inclined his head slightly, his tone as distant as ever. “Not at all.”

Then, as we drove for another ten minutes, Eric spoke, his tone turned unexpectedly soft. “Do you know where we’re going?”

I looked up at the sky, my voice calm and sure. “Yes. The Civil Affairs Bureau.”

Our second meeting… off to get our marriage license.