Chapter 4 The Honest Opportunist
[Nyx]
I staggered back, feeling as though the floor had disappeared beneath my feet. "Oh my God, Oliver..." My mind raced, replaying every moment of our friendship through this new lens.
"We could escape all this," he pressed, eyes bright with hope. "Another city, another country... somewhere away from your family's control."
Reality crashed back into me, cold and unforgiving. I shook my head slowly. "I can't abandon my wolf, Oliver. You know what banishment means—losing immortality, becoming human, then... aging and dying."
His expression crumpled, hope extinguishing like a snuffed candle. "Forget I said anything," he backpedaled, forcing a casual wave. "I'm being ridiculous."
"Oliver..." My voice cracked with guilt I'd never felt before. "I never thought of us... I always saw you as my best friend."
Silence stretched between us, the truth of unrequited feelings filling every inch of space. Finally, Oliver manufactured a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Alcohol is the best cure for rejection, right?" His attempt at lightness couldn't mask the pain underneath.
When we hugged goodbye at the door, my embrace was full of apology; his felt like farewell to a dream he'd carried for years.
After closing the door, I heard him linger, his forehead thudding gently against the wall outside. His whispered words drifted through the thin door: "All my courage for nothing..."
I slid down against the door, hugging my knees to my chest as tears streamed down my face. In the span of a day, I'd lost my freedom and hurt the one person who truly cared about me. A month later, I would face my impending marriage to a stranger.
But tonight, I allowed myself to grieve.
---
Two weeks had passed since my world imploded. Fourteen days of self-imposed isolation in my suite at the Verdant mansion, where I'd perfected the art of existing without living. Empty bottles stood as monuments to my coping strategy, clothes lay strewn across furniture, and the heavy drapes remained drawn against intrusive sunlight.
The entire household had gotten the message—leave Nyx alone. Even Ariel limited her visits to necessary food deliveries, slipping in and out with worried glances but few words. My only consistent companion was Sylva, restless and increasingly critical within me.
This isn't solving anything, she reminded me daily. Hiding just proves them right.
I ignored her, as I'd ignored the whispers filtering through the mansion. Servants speculating about my "taming," pack members debating whether this marriage was punishment or mercy. Two weeks of pretending the arrangement might disappear if I refused to acknowledge it.
Then came the summons.
"Miss Nyx." Ariel's gentle knock accompanied her scent of lavender and concern. "Your father requests your presence downstairs. Your... fiancé has arrived."
The word 'fiancé' hung in the air like poison.
"Tell him I'm indisposed," I called through the door, not moving from my position by the window where I'd been watching raindrops race down glass.
"He was quite insistent," Ariel's voice grew firmer. "He said to inform you that either you come down voluntarily, or he'll send guards to escort you."
Familiar rage flared through me, but beneath it lurked something else—curiosity. What kind of man had agreed to this arrangement? What warrior would accept an Alpha's disgraced daughter as consolation prize?
"Fine," I spat, pushing away from the window. "I'll be down in twenty minutes."
Make it count, Sylva urged. Show strength, not defeat.
I deliberately took thirty minutes, selecting an outfit that would irritate my father—torn black jeans, a faded tank top, and combat boots, all topped with my leather jacket. I left my silver-blonde hair loose and wild, applied just enough makeup to accentuate my eyes, and skipped perfume to ensure my natural scent—defiance with notes of whiskey—would be unmistakable.
The grand staircase of the Verdant mansion felt longer than usual as I descended, each step bringing me closer to my sentence. From above, I could already see them gathered in the formal receiving room—Father standing rigid by the fireplace, Isla perched on the sofa with a satisfied smile, and a tall figure whose back was to the stairs.
As I reached the bottom step, a powerful scent hit me first—forest after rainfall, steel, and something unexpectedly dominant for a Gamma. His warrior essence carried strength and confidence that made Sylva stir with interest beneath my skin.
Interesting, she whispered appreciatively inside me.
Then the stranger turned, and I faltered mid-stride.
I'd expected someone older. Someone like the other Gamma officers—battle-worn, rigid, past their prime. Instead, I faced a man perhaps only a few years my senior, with shoulders broad enough to fill his crisp warrior uniform and height that would force me to look up even in heels.
His face caught me off-guard—strong jawline, full lips set in determination, and amber eyes that assessed me with unexpected intensity. Dark hair cropped in military fashion emphasized features that were undeniably handsome.
My wolf's reaction irritated me more than his presence, and I forced my expression into practiced disdain.
"Nyx," Father's voice cut through my observation. "May I present Lysander Crowley, Captain of our Elite Guard and your betrothed."
Lysander stepped forward with confidence that bordered on arrogance, extending his hand. "It's an honor to finally meet you, Nyx Verdant."
His voice was deeper than I'd expected, resonant and assured. I pointedly ignored his outstretched hand.
"Is it?" I asked coldly. "An honor to marry the Alpha's reject? Or are you just another pathetic social climber desperate to lick my father's boots? I bet you're thrilled to be the pack's newest glorified soft-boy, trading your dignity for a title through marriage."
Father's scent spiked with anger. "Nyx! That's enough—"
"It's alright, sir," Lysander interrupted, his eyes never leaving mine. A smile played at his lips that was neither apologetic nor offended, but disturbingly smug. "Your daughter sees more clearly than most."
Then he did something that genuinely surprised me. Rather than take offense, he stepped closer, invading my space with deliberate precision.
"You're absolutely right," he admitted, voice dropping so only I could hear clearly, his smile widening to reveal perfect teeth. "I am climbing the social ladder. I do want the power that comes with being your husband. And I couldn't be more thrilled about it. This marriage is exactly what I wanted, and getting you as part of the deal? That's just the cherry on top."