The wedding hall had been designed to intimidate.
Tall, obsidian pillars stretched up into vaulted ceilings, dripping with crystal chandeliers. The air smelled faintly of incense and old money. Everything—every arrangement, every escort detail—was chosen to cement this event as a declaration of power.
Not love.
Power.
Caleb Arden stood at the entrance, layered in ceremonial silk and nerves.
His hands shook.
He tucked them behind his back to hide it… but the tremor still reached his eyes, turning silver irises into shadowed pools.
"Stop looking frightened," his mother whispered. She adjusted the chain at his collar. "Everything depends on appearances. Hold still. Be perfect."
Caleb had spent his whole life being perfect.
Today, he felt like a brittle glass about to crack.
Inside, every seat was filled with someone important.
Clan leaders. Political allies. Rivals hiding smirks behind champagne glasses. Cameras streamed discreetly, capturing every calculated moment for the media vultures.
The feared Alpha marrying a Beta.
And not just any Beta.
A replacement Beta.
Rumors leaked like poison.
"He must have begged for this."
"Bet he's hoping for favor."
"I heard the younger brother was the original betrothed. Tragic."
Caleb walked forward, head bowed, absorbing every whisper like another weight added to the chains already around his chest.
Each step felt heavier.
At the front of the hall, the man everyone both feared and worshipped stood still as stone.
Lucian Thorne.
His black suit was tailored so sharply it could cut. His expression was carved from steel—emotionless, unaffected. He didn't glance back. Didn't meet Caleb's gaze. Didn't offer a hand.
Not even for show.
He stood before the officiator like this was a business negotiation.
Not a wedding.
Across the aisle, Darius Vale watched with an unreadable expression. His gaze flicked between Lucian and Caleb, lingering longer on the latter. His jaw was tense.
And somewhere behind pillars and floral arrangements, hidden from most eyes—
Evan Arden watched.
His eyes were rimmed in kohl, lips trembling just a little. But not with sorrow.
With rage.
He had never imagined that watching his brother in his rightful place would feel like being stabbed.
It should've been me.
Caleb reached the altar.
He stood by Lucian's side.
His posture was impeccable.
His heart felt like it was shattering in silence.
Lucian didn't speak.
Didn't acknowledge him.
Only gave the faintest nod to the officiator—an order to get it done.
The ceremony droned on.
A speech about alliances. A speech about unity. Words that meant nothing. Words that scraped the inside of Caleb's ribcage like claws.
His hands trembled harder.
He stared down at the floor to hide the tremor. But Lucian noticed it out of the corner of his eye.
The Alpha didn't reach for him.
Didn't offer comfort.
The slightest hint of a frown crossed his face.
Not concern.
Annoyance.
At the vow exchange, silence thickened like smoke.
The officiator nodded at Caleb.
Caleb lifted his eyes.
His voice was steady. Immaculate. Emotionless, save for the slight catch on the final word:
"I agree to this union and its terms."
He didn't say I do.
He didn't say with love.
He just agreed.
To the contract.
To the cage.
To the duty.
And Lucian's eyes flickered—just once—at that crack in the mask.
It was Lucian's turn.
He took the oath like reciting a line from a dead language.
Cold.
Precise.
"I accept the agreement."
No vow.
No promise.
Just acceptance.
Barely.
The hall held its breath.
This was not a union.
This was a transaction.
The officiator announced them bonded.
Applause followed, polite and hollow.
The mafia heads nodded, satisfied with the alliance. The press snapped photos, hungry for headlines. The hall filled with murmurs about power consolidations and future territory shifts.
And Caleb stood beside his new husband feeling smaller than he'd ever felt.
Until—
A touch.
Not gentle.
Not soft.
Just the pad of Lucian's fingertips brushing the back of his hand.
A marriage gesture.
For the watching crowd.
A performance.
Caleb didn't flinch, but his stomach twisted.
Lucian leaned in, voice low enough only Caleb could hear.
"Do not mistake this for acceptance," he murmured.
Caleb turned his head just slightly.
Enough to meet the glacial silver in Lucian's eyes.
And whispered—
"I won't."
And then he dropped his gaze again.
Because for now, surviving was enough.
Far from them, Evan watched the interaction with a storm behind his eyes. His fingers dug into the fabric of his sleeve, knuckles white.
He looked ready to collapse.
Not into tears this time—
But into rage.
Darius watched too.
Expression neutral.
Eyes calculating.
Because something in Lucian's voice, in the set of Caleb's shoulders—the whole ceremony—it didn't sit right.
This alliance was going to crack.
And when it did—
Darius intended to be at the fault line.
Lucian stood at the altar, mask perfectly intact.
But something in him burned without logic.
He agreed.
He showed up.
He held his ground.
And Lucian didn't know if he hated that…
Or respected it.