Bride Of The Rival King

Lena’s POV “Papa!” I rushed to his side and kissed him on the cheek. But he was cold… distant. He didn’t even look at me. I frowned. This wasn’t like him. He always smiled when he saw me, always chuckled when I forgot something important. He would shake his head and tease me, call me scatterbrained like Mama used to. “Is everything okay, Papa? Oh my God… did I forget your birthday again? Or some meeting that I was suppose to attend?” Still nothing. He sat behind his grand wooden desk, fingers laced together. The flickering candlelight cast sharp shadows over his face, making him look older… harder. I laughed nervously, stepping closer. “Okay, okay, I know I’ve been distracted lately because of Ciaran but I just tell you, it's only for the mean time and soon enough we would be getting married,” I squealed clapping my hands, “I can't—” “Sit.” The word cut through the air like a blade. I froze. My smile dropped instantly. He had never spoken to me like that before. Not once. My chest tightened, but I obeyed, sinking into the chair across from him. The silence stretched too long. He was waiting, watching me, like he was trying to figure out how to say whatever was weighing on his mind. This made me nervous, my hands were shaking and my feet started tapping the floor due to anxiety. I exhaled. “Papa… you’re scaring me.” Finally, he spoke. “You will marry Roman Draven.” Everything inside me went still. I blinked. The words didn’t make sense. They couldn’t. A laugh, small, confused, escaped my lips. “What?” His gaze was steady. His face set in a hard line. “The negotiations have been finalized. You will leave in two days and will become his wife.” My stomach twisted. The room felt too small, too suffocating. “You’re joking.” He didn’t answer. My nails dug into the arms of the chair. “Papa, please… tell me you’re joking.” Still, nothing. As if he was some robot and that pissed me off the more. My heart pounded so hard I could hear it in my ears. “No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “No. This isn’t happening.” “You don’t have a choice, Lena.” I shot to my feet. “Like hell, I don’t! You always have me free will. If I were to marry him, who would look over our pack?” “There are many others who can and who are more eligible for this than you. Besides you don't have your wolf so you will always be weak.” My lips trembled. He had never spoken to me like that. And now…now he was hurting me. I clenched my fists, my body shaking as I stared at him with tears already filling my eyes. His eyes flickered, but his expression stayed carved from stone. “This is for the good of the pack.” I scoffed. “For the pack? Or for you?” Anger simmered beneath my skin, burning hotter than my fear. Roman Draven. The Phantom Alpha. The Kin Slayer. The man who ruled Shadowfang Dominion with blood and an iron fist. And my father wanted to hand me over like a bargaining chip. “No,” I said, my voice trembling with fury. “I won’t do it.” “You will.” “I won’t!” My father sighed, rubbing a hand over his face like I was being unreasonable. Like I was a child throwing a tantrum. “Don’t be foolish, Lena. Do you think I wanted this?” His voice softened, just a little. “Roman’s reach is expanding. He is too strong. We need an alliance before we are crushed under his boot.” I shook my head, stepping back. “And you’re offering me up like a sacrificial lamb?” His jaw tightened. “You are an asset to this pack. Your emotions don’t matter.” A sharp, painful breath left my lungs. Not a daughter. Not someone to protect. Just something to trade. I stared at him, searching his face for… something. Anything. A crack in that indifferent face of his. A flicker of guilt. There was nothing. Tears burned at the edges of my vision. “I love someone else, you know that, he has proposed and he wants my hand in marriage. How can you do this to me?” I whispered. For the first time since I walked into this room, something shifted in his expression. Anger and disgust. “You love a farmer,” he said flatly. I clenched my fists so hard my nails bite into my palm. “His name is Ciaran.” “It doesn’t matter.” “It matters to me!” My voice cracked. “He is my mate, Papa.” My father stood. Slowly. Carefully. “Do you think that matters to men like Roman?” His voice was quieter now, more dangerous. “Do you think he will care that you love someone else? Or that you dream of running away like a naive little girl? You are an adult Lena! Your actions have consequences now.” His words struck like a slap. Tears spilled over, hot and humiliating. “I hate you.” I turned, choking on my own breath, stumbling toward the door. “Lena—” But I was already gone. The halls blurred around me. My legs carried me faster than my mind could keep up. I burst through the doors of the estate, sucking in a ragged breath. The night air was cold against my damp skin. I ran. I didn’t think, didn’t stop. I ran straight to him. Straight to Ciaran. --- His cottage was dark. Quiet. But I knew where to find him. I pushed open the barn doors, my chest heaving, my lungs aching. He was there. Shirt off, his back turned to me, stacking hay with ease. “Ciaran.” He stiffened. Turned. The moment he saw my face, he was on me. “Lena…what happened?” His hands cupped my cheeks, his thumb brushing away my tears. I broke. I sobbed, shaking my head, gripping his wrists like he was the only thing keeping me upright. “They’re marrying me off,” I gasped. “To Roman Draven. The same man who killed his entire family and hung their remains in front of his pack border. Oh my God, this feels like a nightmare.” His entire body went still. A muscle twitched in his jaw. “Roman…Draven.” I nodded. Hugging him as I cried. “I don't want to marry a monster. Please…” Then he exhaled, pressing his forehead against mine. “No,” he murmured. “No, they won’t.” I clutched his shirt. “Ciaran—” “We leave tonight.” I looked up at him, chest still heaving. “What?” “We leave,” he repeated, gripping my shoulders. “Now. Before they can stop us.” I looked up at his handsome face, he was angry, his jaw clenched hard. I was surprised by his words. “Ciaran…what are you talking about? You want us to elope?” “Yes. I always wanted us to get married and live a happy life somewhere else. This is our chance to do so.” My head spun. Run? Could we? Could we escape the reach of Roman Draven? Of my father? Ciaran held my face, forcing me to meet his eyes. “Do you trust me?” I swallowed. “Yes.” Ciaran’s eyes softened, and then his lips crashed onto mine. Urgent. Desperate. Like he was trying to pour every promise into that kiss. That we would be okay. That this wasn’t the end. I clung to him, my fingers tangling in his hair, trying to memorize the way he felt—strong and warm and mine. His hands framed my face, thumbs brushing over my damp cheeks. When he pulled back, his breath was heavy, his golden eyes fierce. “We leave now,” he said. “Now?” My heart slammed against my ribs. “I—I need clothes, things—” “Forget them. If it's Roman, then he already have people spying on you.” He grabbed my hand, fingers lacing through mine, and pulled me toward the door. The moment we stepped outside, I knew. They were waiting. A row of warriors in black leather, silver swords gleaming under the moonlight. My father’s guards. I sucked in a sharp breath, instinctively stepping back, but Ciaran tightened his grip on me. No. No, no, no. They had followed me. They had known. A tall man at the front took a step forward. “Lena Sinclair,” he called out, voice steady, emotionless. “Please come with us willingly.” Ciaran pulled me behind him, shielding me with his body. “Like hell she will.” The warrior’s face remained blank. “Alpha’s orders.”