Chapter 20 Bachelorette Party Busted
[Lysander]
"Captain, thought you might want to see this. Your fiancée's 'headache' seems to have cleared up nicely at Moonlight Club."
The images loaded, showing Nyx on a dance floor, pressed close against a tall blond man I'd never seen before, her head on his shoulder, his hands on her waist. Something cold and hard formed in my chest. I'd waited outside her door like a concerned fool while she was dancing with strangers.
I started the engine, my knuckles white against the steering wheel. The hurt surprised me—we didn't have a real relationship, not yet. But the lie? That was different. That required a conversation.
As I drove toward Moonlight Club, I tried to rationalize my feelings. Was I overreacting? No. I didn't care that she was at a club—she was free to go wherever she wanted. But starting our relationship with dishonesty? That set a precedent I couldn't accept. Not when I'd spent years watching her from afar, remembering the fierce, honest warrior she once was.
The closer I got to the club, the calmer I became. This wasn't about jealousy or control. This was about respect and truth—the foundation we would need if this arranged marriage had any chance of becoming something real.
[Nyx]
An hour later, the club's atmosphere suddenly shifted when Lysander strode through the crowd, his presence unmistakable, his warrior training evident in every movement. Dressed in a simple black t-shirt and jeans, he stood out starkly against the colorful club, as if carrying his own gravity field.
Oliver spotted him first, his expression changing from joyful to alert. "Your fiancé's here," he whispered in my ear. "And he looks murderous."
I turned, my gaze cutting through smoke and flashing lights to find Lysander at the edge of the dance floor, eyes locked on me. His expression was like ice. The music continued, but it seemed to fade into the background against the tension building between us.
As Lysander strode toward me, a wave of inexplicable fear rippled through me, followed by irritation at my own reaction. Why should I be afraid? I hadn't done anything wrong. But as he approached, I couldn't control my racing heart.
A quick glance revealed Tristan and Seth watching from a distance, looking smug and satisfied. My heart sank. My brother had betrayed me again.
Lysander walked directly between me and the blond man, separating us. He gave the man one cold look. "Leave." Just two syllables, yet carrying undeniable Alpha command. The man almost stumbled backward.
"Feeling better from your headache?" Lysander's voice was low and dangerous, the sarcasm obvious. "I was so worried about your headache I brought medicine to your house, only to be told you'd gone out. Imagine my surprise finding you here.”
"Are you following me?" I shot back, though deep down, a strange sense of shame began to spread.
"Don't need to," Lysander's expression remained emotionless as he took out his phone, showing me the photos Seth had sent. "My warriors are quite happy to report on the future Luna's 'condition.'"
"That fucking Seth! You have no right to question me," I lifted my chin, defiance sparking in my eyes. "I'm the one being forced into marriage. You don't own me. You don't get to control who I dance with or where I go," I retorted, my voice rising with anger. "I'm still my own person, arranged marriage or not."
"Really?" Lysander stepped closer, the distance between us close enough to feel each other's breath. "Have you forgotten our agreement already? You agreed to loyalty in private as well as public. Or did you think those terms only applied to me while you could do whatever you wanted?"
"We're not even married yet," I shot back, crossing my arms defensively.
"We're engaged," Lysander countered firmly. "The moment you accepted my engagement ring, you accepted the commitment that comes with it."
Oliver stepped forward, his usually gentle demeanor hardening as he inserted himself between us. "Who do you think you are? You can't just barge in here and start making demands. She's allowed to have fun with her friends."
Lysander's jaw tightened, his amber eyes flashing dangerously. "I think I'm her fiancé. And this isn't about having fun—it's about lying about where she was going."
"Fiancé?" Oliver scoffed, giving Lysander a contemptuous once-over. "I don't see a ring on her finger. Did you even ask her properly, or just accept her like some prize from her father?"
The crowd around us went silent, sensing the mounting tension. Lysander's scent shifted, taking on the sharp edge of barely controlled anger that made nearby wolves instinctively step back.
"Whatever you think of me doesn't matter," Lysander growled, his voice dropping to a dangerous octave, eyes flashing with territorial instinct. A cold, confident smirk spread across his face as he added, "I'm the one who will be by her side, not you. And nothing you say will change that fact."
"You don't deserve her," Oliver shot back, his normally gentle features hardening with contempt. "She's an Alpha's daughter, and what are you? Just a glorified soldier who got lucky. You could never be worthy of someone like her."
Something dark and dangerous flickered across Lysander's face as he leaned closer to Oliver. "And who's worthy of her? You? A mere intern doctor? You call yourself her friend, yet you watch her spiral downward night after night, drowning herself in alcohol while you sit beside her and call it friendship? That's not love or respect. That's enabling her self-destruction because you're too afraid to challenge her."
Oliver's face went slack with shock, the truth of Lysander's words clearly hitting a nerve. His mouth opened but no words came out, his scent shifting from confidence to confusion and hurt.
Before I could process what was happening, Lysander bent down and lifted me into his arms in one fluid motion. I gasped, instinctively wrapping my arms around his neck to maintain balance.
"We need to talk," he said, his voice leaving no room for argument as he carried me toward the exit.