Fated to be Together

Chapter 5: Masquerade Ball

To my utter dismay, Kyle doesn’t stop at the curtains. His grip tightens around my wrist as he drags me through the hall, his pace unrelenting. My heart pounds, but I force myself to stay composed, ignoring the burning ache in my twisted ankle.

The moment we step into a secluded room, Kyle shoves me inside and slams the door behind him. A sickening silence fills the air before—crack—his palm collides with my face. My head snaps to the side, the force of the blow sending white-hot pain across my cheek. My vision blurs, stars exploding behind my eyes as a sharp ringing fills my ears.

Before I can regain my balance, he wrenches my arms behind me, twisting until pain shoots through my shoulders.

“How dare you make a fool of me?” he snarls, his breath hot against my skin. “How dare you let another man touch you in front of everyone?” His grip tightens, and I bite down on my lip to stifle a whimper.

“You are to pretend to be my wife,” he seethes. “Or have you forgotten?”

The pressure on my arms increases, and despite my best efforts, a strangled gasp escapes. Kyle’s eyes darken with satisfaction.

“Attention-seeking b***h,” he spits before shoving me to the floor. My injured leg buckles, sending sharp agony lancing through me as I collapse onto the cold marble.

Soft, deliberate footsteps echo through the room. I don’t need to look up to know who it is.

Elena.

She slips beside Kyle, her touch sliding over his chest like a serpent coiling around its prey.

“Leave her be,” she purrs, pressing her lips near his ear. “She’s filth, and tonight is far too important to let her drag you down.”

Kyle’s breathing slows, his rage melting into something else entirely as Elena trails her fingers along his jaw. He pulls her closer by the waist, smirking as she teasingly licks the corner of his lips before tilting her head back, offering her neck. He takes the invitation eagerly, his mouth pressing against her skin, claiming her.

The sight makes my stomach turn.

Elena turns her attention to me now, a wicked glint in her eyes. She steps forward, her red heels clicking ominously against the floor—then suddenly, pain.

Her stiletto digs into my already-bruised ankle, grinding down with cruel precision.

“Oops,” she says mockingly, tilting her head. “Didn’t see you there.”

I glare up at her, my fingers clenching into fists.

She leans in, her lips curving into a sneer. “Patch yourself up and set up dinner. Make sure I’m sitting next to Kyle—if you know what’s good for you.”

And just like that, she pivots on her heel, melting back into Kyle’s arms. He lets out a low chuckle, wrapping an arm around her as they saunter out together, leaving me on the floor.

I remain there for a moment, my body aching, my pride in tatters. Alone in the dimly lit room, the weight of the night finally crashes down on me. My legs give out, and I sink onto the cold floor, my body trembling. The dam I’ve kept up for so long cracks, and before I can stop it, the tears spill over.

Two hours.

That’s all I had.

Two hours to decide the fate of my life.

I squeeze my eyes shut, letting the memories flood back—the scent of blood in the air, the screams of my people, my father’s lifeless body lying in the wreckage of our packhouse. The rogues tore through us like a storm, leaving nothing but devastation in their wake. And then, when the chaos settled, the council arrived.

Cold. Unforgiving.

They handed me a choice wrapped in iron chains: marry or find my fated mate before the clock ran out. Otherwise, I would lose my pack forever.

But I was barely of age. How was I supposed to find my mate in two hours?

And then there was Kyle.

He came to me like a beacon in my darkest moment, offering stability, promising support. His words had been honeyed, his presence reassuring. He made me believe I wasn’t alone—that I had someone to lean on.

My naive, grief-stricken self had clung to that hope.

I never stopped to think. Never combed through the contract with enough scrutiny. Never questioned why Kyle was so willing to step in.

And now… I’m trapped.

Bound to a man who only sees me as a tool. Shackled to a marriage that isn’t real, yet holds the power to ruin me.

I press my forehead against my knees, swallowing back a sob.

I take a deep breath, forcing myself to push through the pain. Hobbling to the linen closet, I rummage through the shelves until I find a long strip of fabric. It’s not ideal, but it will do. I wrap it tightly around my ankle, securing it as best as I can. The ache pulses through me, but I grit my teeth. It’ll heal soon enough. As long as I move carefully, no one will notice.

Straightening my gown, I slip out of the room, my steps slow but steady. I make my way to the green room where the models are gathered, stealing a moment in front of the mirror. The reflection staring back at me is composed, elegant. But beneath the layers of makeup and perfectly styled hair, I see the cracks—my slightly swollen cheek from Kyle’s slap, the exhaustion in my eyes. I exhale softly, fixing what I can. No one can see weakness. Not tonight.

Once satisfied, I step back into the main hall, joining the final preparations for the ball. The last place I want to be is in Kyle’s presence, but I won’t let him think he’s won.

As the grand doors to the ballroom open, a collective hush falls over the crowd, followed by gasps of wonder.

The ballroom is breathtaking—a scene straight out of a fairytale.

White roses laced with soft red accents bloom in the centerpieces, intertwined with delicate baby blue and lilac orchids. Candles, set in floating glass arrangements, cast a dreamy glow across the tables. Every detail has been meticulously curated—the font on the menus, the texture of the linens, the perfect balance of pastel hues. It’s enchanting, whimsical, a space meant for magic.

I glide toward the head table, my steps measured, my expression composed. Kyle is already seated, his jaw tight, his eyes flickering with silent fury. I know exactly what’s going through his mind—he wants Elena by his side, but he’s bound to keep up this charade, to maintain the illusion that I am his wife, his Luna. If I don’t act fast, I’ll pay for it later.

Elena stands off to the side, her sharp gaze fixed on me, her glare filled with venom. I don’t give her the satisfaction of reacting. Instead, I pick up a crystal flute and tap a fork gently against the glass, the chime ringing through the ballroom. The murmurs settle as all eyes turn to me.

“As Luna of the Silvermoon Pack, I welcome you all to our humble abode,” I say smoothly, my voice carrying across the room. “Thank you for joining us for the auction earlier, and congratulations to all our winning bidders!” I pause, letting the applause ripple through the crowd before continuing.

“I would also like to take this moment to extend my gratitude to a very special guest. Elena, thank you for being an exceptional model tonight. To honor you, I offer you the seat beside our generous Alpha so you may share this meal together.”

A hush falls over the room before polite applause follows. Elena beams, practically glowing with triumph as she strides forward, claiming the seat next to Kyle like she was meant to be there all along. Kyle smirks, satisfaction flickering in his eyes. They think they’ve won, that they’ve put me in my place.

But they fail to notice the quiet glances exchanged among the guests—the knowing looks, the subtle whispers. The room may be filled with elegant masks and fine silks, but no amount of pretense can fully conceal the truth. They see it. They know.

I lift my glass once more. “With that, I hope you all dine to your heart’s content. And when the music calls, I invite you to join us on the dance floor.”

I raise my glass in a toast, meeting Kyle’s gaze head-on before taking a sip.

As I settle at a table with the other models, I take a quick glance around the ballroom. My fingers lightly trace the rim of my glass, but my mind is elsewhere.

Where is he?

Mr. Grey Eyes. The man who caught me when I fell, whose touch sent an unfamiliar thrill through me. I don’t even know his name. If I could just spot where he’s sitting, I’d know who he is—his rank, his ties, why he was even at the auction in the first place. But no matter how carefully I scan the crowd, he’s nowhere to be seen.

Had he left?

A strange pang of disappointment settles in my chest. Maybe it’s for the best. Whoever he is, he’s not my problem. I have enough of those already.

I sit frozen in place, my fingers curling into fists beneath the table. The nerve of him.

Kyle doesn’t even glance in my direction as he leads Elena onto the dance floor, his hand possessively resting on her waist. His voice had been all concern, dripping with false sympathy, but his actions couldn’t be clearer. This wasn’t about my injury—this was about humiliating me in front of the entire room.

A smattering of applause ripples through the ballroom as they begin to dance, spinning across the floor in perfect harmony. Their chemistry is undeniable, their movements effortless. The guests murmur among themselves, some smiling approvingly, others exchanging knowing glances. They all see it. The lie. The farce of my marriage.

I school my features into an expression of mild indifference, lifting my glass to my lips to hide the fury simmering just beneath the surface. I can’t react. Not here. Not now.

But then, just as I lower my glass, I feel it.

A presence.

My breath catches, and I glance to the side—only to meet a pair of piercing grey eyes.

He’s here.