Promised to the Alfa's Son, Fated to Another

Chapter eight

Casey stared at the reflection in the mirror. The champagne strapless dress hugged her body perfectly, every seam crafted to flatter her curves. Her hair fell in soft waves over her bare shoulders, her lips painted a pale rose. She looked radiant—yet her eyes were hollow.

Behind her, Chloe leaned against the dresser, forcing a smile. “You’re beautiful,” she said, but her tone carried no joy.

Casey traced the faint scar on her left hand. “I hope he hates me.”

Chloe snorted. “Darling, he’d have to be blind.”

“Thanks, Chloe,” Casey muttered, glaring at her.

“What? You want lies or the truth?”

Casey sighed, shoulders sinking. No answer came.

The door creaked and Payton stepped inside. He looked between them, worry etched into his face. “They’re waiting.”

Chloe hurried to him, whispering, “How many?”

“Elijah and Savanna. Alfie. Ava,” Payton replied, still watching his sister. “How is she?”

“Anxious. Angry. Ready to explode.” Chloe’s lips pressed tight.

Payton smirked. “You don’t sugarcoat, do you?”

“With your family?” Chloe gave him a sharp slap on the shoulder. “I’d better.”

Casey stood, silent, and took her brother’s hand. Her attempt at a smile was painful to watch. Chloe shook her head and followed them out.

---

Downstairs, the air was thick with perfume, champagne, and expectation. The Sattons and McRorys stood in the grand hall, glasses in hand, appetizers on silver trays. When Payton appeared first, all eyes turned. And when Casey stepped into view, silence fell.

Savanna Satton’s eyes softened. She alone in that family knew part of Casey’s truth, and for that, Casey was grateful. She focused on her, forcing a small smile.

Alfie couldn’t look away. He had remembered her—of course he had—but not like this. Not with the dress hugging every inch, not with her pale shoulders bare, not with the glow of forced elegance making her look like a queen among wolves. His chest tightened with desire, and something darker.

Eric moved quickly, slipping Casey’s hand from Payton’s. “Sweetheart, you remember Alpha Elijah, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Casey said, her voice steady though her palm was damp with sweat. She shook the Alpha’s hand. “It’s an honor to see you again.”

“And his wife, Savanna.”

Casey hesitated, then hugged her gently. “You are my miracle worker, Mrs. Satton.”

“No formalities, dearest. Call me Savanna.”

Casey opened her mouth, but the words died as she turned.

Alfie stood before her. Tall. Broad. His hair dark as midnight, eyes silver-gray, catching the light like a predator’s. For a heartbeat, she saw him not as a man, but as the wolf who had watched her once in the woods—hungry, calculating. Her chest clenched.

“Casey, our son—Alfie, your fiancé,” Elijah said proudly, oblivious to her trembling.

Alfie reached for her hand, his lips curving. “Nice to meet you.”

Casey froze, prey caught in the open. Retreat, her instincts screamed. Her wolf snarled in protest.

“You all right?” Alfie’s voice was smooth, too smooth.

“Yes.” Her hand jerked forward, stiff as stone. “Sorry—you reminded me of someone.”

“Hope that was a compliment.” His smile flickered, uncertain, but he kissed her hand anyway. His touch was warm, possessive.

“I’m… thrilled you agreed to this,” he added, lowering his voice for her ears only.

“It benefits everyone,” Casey said quickly, retreating back toward Payton’s side, forcing her lips into something resembling a smile.

From the corner of the room, Ava watched. Her mismatched gaze—sharp and curious—studied Casey with quiet fascination. Gorgeous, yes. But also broken. A contradiction of beauty and fear. A she-wolf who trembled before her brother yet radiated something far more dangerous: resistance.

Even Ava could see it. Her brother, for all his charm, had been denied. And it burned him.

She leaned closer and whispered, “Are you sure you want to proceed with the herb?”

Alfie’s silver gaze never left Casey. His jaw tightened, voice a low growl. “She’ll be mine. At any cost.”