Valeria stood motionless behind the heavy oak door of her chamber, her back pressed to the cold surface as if it could offer her strength. The mirror in front of her reflected a breathtaking bride, a vision in white silk and lace, adorned with silver and moonstone. But her heart didn’t match the image.
It was broken.
Her fingers trembled as they touched the edge of her veil. “I can’t do this…” she whispered, the words sticking in her throat.
For a moment, silence held her captive. Then came a single, traitorous tear, sliding down her cheek. She didn’t bother wiping it away. What was the point?
This wasn’t just a wedding. It was a funeral for her freedom.
Lucien.
His name alone twisted her stomach into knots. A union with him meant a life caged in cold stone walls, under the thumb of the most controlling man she’d ever met. She wasn’t a bride. She was an offering. A political pawn. And the worst part? She had given up hope.
“Maybe if I run now…”
The thought came as a whisper, almost a prayer. Would Tristan still forgive her if she showed up at his feet, barefoot and broken, begging him to take her back?
Would he still love her?
Would he even want her after everything?
The door creaked open slightly, and Valeria jumped, quickly turning away to hide her tears.
“Valeria,” came Esther’s soft voice. “It’s time. Are you ready?”
Valeria drew a shaky breath and nodded without turning around.
Esther walked in and closed the door behind her. She looked Valeria up and down with a warm smile. “You look... like a goddess. Absolutely stunning.”
Valeria managed a weak smile. “Thanks.”
Esther reached over and adjusted the edge of her veil. “Your parents are still getting ready. You’ve got a few minutes. Just breathe, alright? Everything will be fine.”
Valeria’s chest rose and fell too quickly.
“Will it?” she asked, her voice a cracked whisper.
Esther paused, gently taking her hand. “It has to be.”
Valeria looked into her eyes. “Esther...”
The words hung in the air. She wanted to scream. Please help me escape. Please get me out of here. But she didn’t say it. She couldn’t. Asking that would mean dragging Esther into this mess, and she didn’t deserve that.
Instead, Valeria nodded again. “I’ll be fine.”
Esther gave her hand a comforting squeeze. “I’ll be right outside if you need me.”
The door clicked shut behind her.
Valeria exhaled slowly and looked back at the mirror. She barely recognized the woman staring back at her. “You’re not a bride,” she told herself. “You’re a prisoner in a dress.”
Suddenly, a noise cut through her thoughts. A distant, muffled scream.
She froze.
Another one followed, louder this time. Not just a scream, a shriek of agony.
Her heart slammed against her ribs. She turned sharply toward the door, stepping forward. Then came more sounds: crashing, snarling, the guttural roars of battle.
What the hell?
Her hand hovered over the doorknob.
Another explosion of noise, steel clashing, bones breaking, a feral howl so close it made her skin crawl.
She yanked the door open.
What she saw nearly knocked the breath from her lungs.
Blood. Everywhere.
The long corridor outside her chamber had become a warzone. Vampire guards lay in twisted, lifeless heaps. Furniture was overturned. Tapestries soaked in crimson clung to the walls like torn flags. And in the middle of it all—monsters. Snarling, clawed, and merciless.
Werewolves.
They tore through the Valemont mansion with brutal force. Vampires screamed as they were ripped apart, some disintegrating into ash midair, others falling in pieces.
Valeria’s hand flew to her mouth, a gasp choking her.
Then, one of them saw her.
A massive black-furred werewolf, covered in blood, turned its glowing amber eyes toward her. It bared its teeth and charged.
“No—please—” she stumbled back, slipping against the stone floor. Her body hit the ground hard.
The beast was almost on her.
She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for death. A growl broke the air.
But it wasn’t from the one charging at her. It was deeper, colder, more powerful. A blur of motion struck the attacker from the side, knocking it off its path.
Valeria opened her eyes, blinking away tears.
Two werewolves collided, snapping and clawing at each other.
Then one shifted—bones cracking, fur retracting, until a man stood there.
Tristan.
Her mouth fell open. “Tristan?”