The Reclusive Alpha’s Sold Mate

Chapter 4

Hilda’s POV

"Wake up, Hilda," a voice whispered, though it felt more like a physical shove.

I squeezed my eyes shut, but the sun was already aggressive, burning through my eyelids. It felt wrong for the sky to be that bright. The world should have been grey and cold to match the hollow pit in my chest.

"Hilda, please. You have to move."

I forced my eyes open. Haylee was hovering over my bed, her expression a messy blur of pity and panic. She still had her oversized hoodie on, her hair a bird’s nest, and she was clutching a heavy bag like a shield. She looked at my floor, which was buried under a graveyard of discarded clothes and an empty glass, and let out a shaky breath.

"You didn’t sleep at all, did you?" she asked.

"Not a second," I said. My voice sounded like it had been dragged over gravel. I pushed myself up, the sheets pooling around my waist. "How did you get past the staff?"

"The old laundry chute," she said, trying to force a small smile. It didn’t reach her eyes. She sat on the edge of the mattress and took my hands. Her skin was warm, making mine feel like ice. "Stop doing this. You’re shaking."

"What am I supposed to do, Haylee? Should I be excited?" I let out a sharp, jagged laugh. "It is my wedding day. I feel like I am walking toward a firing squad, and everyone is just waiting for the trigger to pull."

She squeezed my fingers hard. "You don’t deserve a single bit of this. Not the deal, not him, none of it."

I opened my mouth to answer, but a heavy, rhythmic thudding against the wood of my door cut me off.

"Who is that at this hour?" Haylee hissed, her brow furrowing.

The door didn't wait for an invitation. It swung inward, hitting the stopper with a crack. A senior maid marched in, followed by a small army of women. Two of them hauled professional makeup trunks that clattered as they set them down. Another carried a garment bag, holding the white lace like it was a holy relic rather than my cage. They all wore the same expression: polished, professional, and completely disgusted by the sight of me.

"Set it up over there," the maid barked, pointing at my vanity. She didn't even look at me.

I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders. "What is all this?"

The maid finally turned, rolling her eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. "It is your wedding, Hilda. Use your head. These women are here to make you look like something other than a mess."

One of the stylists let out a soft snort, eyeing my tangled hair. "That is going to take more than one miracle," she muttered to her partner.

Heat rushed to my face. I looked down at my knees, wishing the floor would just open up and swallow me whole.

"Watch your mouth," Haylee snapped, standing up so fast she nearly tripped. She stepped between me and the stylists, her chest out. "You are talking to the bride. Show some respect."

The maid laughed, a dry, nasty sound. "Respect? Stay in your lane, little girl. You aren’t part of the itinerary."

"And you aren't her owner," Haylee countered. "So watch your tone before I report you."

The maid’s face twisted, but she didn't argue. She just looked at me with a fake, thin smile that felt like a blade.

"Stand up, Hilda. We are on a strict clock. Luna Heather demanded you be ready before the sun is fully up. Though, looking at you, I doubt any amount of paint can fix those bags under your eyes."

She turned on her heel and walked out, the door clicking shut behind her. The silence she left was heavy and suffocating. Haylee turned back to me, her anger fading into a look of pure desperation.

"Are you really going to do this?" she whispered. "Are you really going to walk out there?"

"What choice is there?" I asked, my voice barely a breath.

"There is always a choice. We could leave. Right now."

I looked at the white dress hanging by the window. "Not in this pack. Not for someone like me."

For the next two hours, I wasn't a person. I was a project.

The stylists swarmed. One yanked my hair into tight curls that pulled at my scalp. Another layered foundation over my skin, the cream feeling thick and suffocating, like a mask. They cinched the corset of the gown so tight I had to take shallow, careful sips of air.

When they finally stepped back, I didn't recognize the girl in the glass.

Her eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with red. Her lips were painted a deep, perfect crimson, but they wouldn't stop trembling. She looked like a ghost wrapped in expensive silk.

"Don't move," a stylist warned, pinning a veil into my hair with enough force to make me wince.

"I’m sorry," I whispered.

Haylee stayed in the corner, her arms crossed tight over her chest. She looked like she wanted to scream. Eventually, she grabbed her own bag and went into the bathroom. When she came out twenty minutes later, she looked different. Her skin was fresh, and she had changed into a simple, elegant gown.

She caught my eye in the mirror and gave me a soft, sad wink. "If I have to spend the day fighting off these vultures, I might as well look the part."

A genuine, tiny laugh bubbled up in my throat. "You look incredible, Haylee."

"So do you," she said, stepping behind me. She rested her hands on my shoulders. "Try to breathe, okay? Just breathe."

The door swung open again, but this time, the air in the room turned cold. Hattie walked in, her heels clicking like a countdown on the hardwood floor. Her dress was covered in sequins that caught the light, sparkling with every arrogant step she took. She stopped a few feet away, tilting her head as she studied me.

"Well," Hattie said, her voice dripping with mock surprise. "The maid is actually playing dress-up. You almost look human, Hilda. If I squint, I might even mistake you for a bride."

I gripped the fabric of my skirt, my knuckles turning white. "What do you want, Hattie?"

"Just checking on the help," she said, leaning in close. I could smell her expensive perfume. It was sweet and cloying. "Enjoy your little moment in the sun. It is the only crown you will ever get, and we both know it’s just a leash."

She patted my cheek, her touch lingering just long enough to feel like a threat, and then she walked out.

My throat felt like it was closing up. "Why does she have to do that? Why today?"

"Because she’s insecure," Haylee said, wiping a stray tear from my cheek before it could ruin the makeup. "She needs you to feel small so she feels big. Don't give her the satisfaction of seeing you cry."

"I hate her," I whispered.

"No," Haylee corrected softly. "You hate that she gets to be the villain and no one ever stops her. You hate that you’re alone in this."

I looked at her reflection. "I have you."

"Yeah," she said, her smile turning brittle. "But I’m not the family who should be standing here."

The door opened once more, and the room went dead silent. Luna Heather walked in, her face a mask of cold stone. Alpha Hartley followed a step behind her, his expression unreadable and distant. They didn't look like parents. They looked like wardens.

"Luna—" I started, but she held up a hand.

"Do not speak unless you are spoken to," she said. Her eyes traveled over me, sharp and clinical. She wasn't looking for beauty; she was looking for flaws. "You look acceptable. Do not embarrass this family today. You are the face of a contract, nothing more."

"Yes, Luna," I said, dropping my gaze to the floor.

She turned to the Alpha, ignoring me entirely. "The ceremony will be brief. There is no need for a spectacle or unnecessary expense for a business merger. Let us just get this over with."

The Alpha nodded once. "Make sure she stays focused. I don't want any scenes."

They left as quickly as they had arrived, leaving the room feeling emptier than before. I felt small. I felt like a piece of furniture they were finally moving out of the house.

"Haylee..." I choked out.

She pulled me into a tight hug, mindful of the dress. "We can go. We can just run. I have my keys in my bag."

I shook my head against her shoulder. "They would hunt us down. There is nowhere to go."

"Then let them hunt," she whispered.

"I can't," I said. "I just can't."

The car ride to the venue was a blur of trees and grey pavement. Haylee tried to talk about the weather, about the music, about anything to keep the silence away, but I couldn't process the words. My hands were numb.

When we arrived, the venue wasn't a church or a grand hall. It was a small, cold building on the edge of the territory. There were no flowers at the entrance. There were no guests laughing outside. It was just a quiet, professional transaction.

We waited in a cramped side room. A woman in a black suit knocked and peeked her head in.

"It is time," she said. "The groom is waiting."

My heart hammered against my ribs so hard it hurt. "I have to walk out there alone?" I asked, my voice trembling.

Haylee gave me a look of pure heartbreak. She reached out and straightened my veil. "Are you ready, Hilda?"

I wasn't. I would never be. But I stood up anyway, because I didn't have any other choice.

The music started—a slow, somber string melody that felt more like a funeral march than a wedding song. The doors opened, and I forced my feet to move. Each step felt like I was wading through deep water.

"You can do this," Haylee whispered from behind me.

I didn't believe her. I had spent weeks imagining the man waiting for me. I expected a monster. I expected a cruel, scarred old man who would look at me like a prize he’d bought at an auction. I braced myself for the sight of someone I could easily hate.

But when I reached the end of the aisle and looked up, my breath vanished.

He wasn't old.

He stood tall, his shoulders broad and powerful under a charcoal suit that looked like it cost more than my life. His jaw was sharp, his face carved from something harder than bone. He wasn't a monster. He was beautiful in a way that felt dangerous.

His eyes were the worst part. They were dark, deep, and completely steady. He watched me walk toward him with a gaze so intense it felt like he was reading my thoughts.

The room seemed to shrink. The music faded into a dull hum in the back of my mind. I forgot to look at the floor. I forgot to look for Haylee. There was only him.

He didn't look like a man who needed a business deal. He looked like a man who took whatever he wanted.

As I stopped in front of him, a small, slow smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. It wasn't a kind smile. It was the look of a hunter who had finally cornered his prey and found the chase amusing.

In that moment, the reality of the contract hit me harder than any of Hattie's insults ever could. This wasn't just a deal I had to survive.

"Do you realize what you’ve walked into?" he asked, his voice a low, smooth rumble.