Chapter 23 The weight of obedience
DARIAN
Morning light filters through the tall windows of the dining hall, casting a golden hue over the polished mahogany table. I settle into my usual seat, the weight of yesterday's battles still pressing heavily on my shoulders. The scent of roasted meats and freshly baked bread wafts through the air, but my appetite remains absent.
Adrian sits beside me, unusually quiet. His fork pushes food around his plate without much interest. I haven't caught Iris's scent on him lately, which means he's been keeping his distance, just as he should. It's better this way, safer for everyone involved.
Across from me, Adira sits with her eyes fixed on her plate, her posture rigid. She hasn't spoken a word since we sat down. The tension between us is palpable, a silent acknowledgment of the previous night's events. I had rejected her advances, and the sting of that rejection lingers in the air between us.
At the head of the table, my father engages in a hushed conversation with Alpha Conan. Their voices are low, but the occasional glance in my direction tells me I'm the subject of their discussion.
I pick up my knife and fork, preparing to cut into the steak before me, when my father's voice cuts through the murmurs.
"Darian."
I pause, setting my utensils down. "Yes, Father?"
He clears his throat, his gaze steady. "We've been discussing the future of our pack, and it's time we make things official."
I raise an eyebrow, already sensing where this is headed.
"We're planning an engagement party for you and Adira," he continues. "It's time the pack sees their future Alpha and Luna together."
Adira's fork clatters against her plate, but she quickly composes herself, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.
I open my mouth to protest, but my father raises a hand, silencing me.
"We've already begun discussing dates," he says, turning to Alpha Conan. "Next month seems fitting."
Kelvin, the youngest McAllister brother, chimes in from further down the table. "Isn't Darian's birthday next month?"
My father smiles, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. "Perfect. A double celebration."
I clench my fists beneath the table, my jaw tightening. Once again, decisions about my life are being made without my input. It's always been this way, my opinions dismissed, my desires overlooked.
Breakfast drags on like a slow, relentless chore. The clinking of cutlery and murmurs around me blur. The hollow promise of an engagement party still gnaws at me. I don’t want to be here, at this table, in this life planned for me without my consent.
Just as I push my plate away and rise, Father’s voice cuts through the stale air.
“Darian.”
I pause, eyes fixed on the wooden floor beneath me.
“You don’t have to work today.” His tone carries that unmistakable edge of command veiled in concern.
I glance up, cautious.
“Spend the day with Adira. Take her somewhere nice, an amazing lunch. Show her you’re committed to the pack.”
Commitment. A word I resent more every second.
But I nod. Sometimes it’s easier to agree than to fight, especially when the entire pack watches.
I spend the rest of the morning avoiding Adira like a ghost avoiding the light. She’s in the halls, in the common rooms, her presence a constant reminder of the cage closing around me. I retreat into my study, bury myself in reports and battle plans, anything to keep her at arm’s length.
But the clock moves forward without mercy, and soon it’s time.
Outside, Adira waits by the sleek black car I’m meant to drive her in.
She’s dressed in a tight black dress that ends far too high for my taste, her makeup heavy and artificial, eyes outlined thick with dark liner, lips painted a vivid red. On her feet, those damn stilettos click on the pavement with practiced confidence.
I open the door for her with stiff politeness.
“After you.”
She arches an eyebrow but steps inside without a word.
Sliding around to the driver’s seat, I start the engine.
The car hums quietly, but the silence between us is deafening.
No small talk. No forced smiles. Just a wall of cold air hanging thickly in the cramped space.
I keep my hands on the wheel, staring straight ahead, refusing to meet her eyes in the rearview mirror.
Minutes pass like hours before we finally arrive at the restaurant.
The valet takes the car without hesitation, and the hostess greets us warmly, no doubt aware of who we are.
We settle into a corner table, the soft glow of sunlight from the high glass windows doing nothing to soften the tension.
Adira immediately pulls out the menu and begins scanning, lips pursed as she orders without looking up.
I remain silent, refusing to pick up a menu or speak.
When the waiter leaves, I finally break the silence.
“Why are you so hell-bent on inserting yourself where you’re not wanted?” I ask, voice low but firm.
Adira looks up, surprise flickering across her features before she masks it with irritation.
“I didn’t plan the lunch,” she snaps.
I raise a brow, unimpressed.
“Then you must have instigated it.”
Her eyes flash, and she leans forward slightly, the scent of her expensive perfume mixing with the tension.
“I’m here because it’s expected. Because your family wants it. Because you’re supposed to prove to everyone that you’re committed.”
“And you think that’s enough reason to play the perfect Luna?” I say bitterly.
She smirks. “Someone has to.”
The waiter returns with our drinks and leaves silently, leaving us alone with the thickening silence.
I take a sip of water, my thoughts churning.
This charade, this forced show of unity, it feels suffocating.
I want to shout that I don’t belong here, that my heart isn’t in this, but the words catch in my throat.
Adira’s eyes linger on me, calculating.
“This can work,” she says softly, but there’s steel beneath the softness. “We just have to play the part.”
I want to tell her that I’m already tired of playing parts, tired of pretending this is what I want.
But I don’t.