Caleb's hands wouldn't stop trembling.
He tried to hide it by folding them together in front of him, nails digging into the soft flesh of his palm. The ceremony hall was too bright, the chandeliers too large, the atmosphere too heavy with judgment. Whispers rippled through the elite mafiosos packed into rows of lavish seats.
"He's the replacement."
"A Beta? The Alpha actually agreed to this?"
"Didn't the Omega heir run away?"
Each comment sliced Caleb open in places he didn't have the strength to protect.
He stood at the altar, stiff and breathless, feeling like a sacrificial lamb dressed in a suit too fine for someone like him. Across from him, Lucian Thorne looked carved from stone—sharp jaw, cold eyes, and an aura that swallowed the air in the room.
Lucian didn't look at him. Not even once.
The officiant droned on about unity, alliance, intertwining fates—none of which applied to this marriage. Caleb shifted his weight, wishing he could disappear into the marble floor. The vows lay open in front of them on pristine white paper. His own handwriting trembled on the page. Lucian's was straight, sharp, perfect.
Just like him.
When it came time for Lucian to speak, the room stilled.
Everyone leaned forward, waiting to see if the feared Alpha would humiliate the Beta in front of all of them.
Lucian lifted the vow page with two fingers and read the words like they were a business contract someone had forced into his hands.
"I, Lucian Thorne, acknowledge this union as a political alliance." His voice had no rise, no fall—flat as frost. "I will uphold the responsibilities required of me."
That was it.
Not a single glance at Caleb. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment.
Caleb swallowed hard. His turn.
He forced his voice not to shake. "I, Caleb Arden, vow to honor this marriage and fulfill my duties to the Thorne family."
It was all he could promise; anything more would have been a lie.
Behind the guests, hidden by flowers and shadows, Caleb caught sight of Evan.
His younger brother watched the ceremony with trembling lips and watery eyes, chest rising and falling dramatically, as if each vow wounded him. His fingers clutched a handkerchief in tight, white-knuckled grief.
To everyone else, he looked heartbroken.
But Caleb knew better.
Even from across the hall, he saw the glint of triumph in Evan's eyes—victimhood weaponized like a blade.
Caleb quickly looked away. If he stared too long, he might unravel right there in front of everyone.
The officiant motioned for the rings.
A platform rose from the center of the altar with two silver bands nestled atop velvet. Caleb reached for one, but his fingers brushed the tray and made it tremble.
Lucian's eyes finally flicked toward him—cold, steady, unimpressed.
Heat rushed up Caleb's neck. His hand shook harder.
A quiet scrape echoed as someone shifted in their seat—Darius Vale, Lucian's Darius Vale and closest friend, watching the ceremony with an unreadable expression. His gaze rested on Caleb with something like… concern? Interest? Pity?
Caleb didn't know. Didn't want to know.
He slid the ring onto Lucian's finger. The Alpha's hand didn't soften even a fraction. It was like slipping a ring onto a statue.
Lucian took Caleb's left hand. His fingers were cold and firm, his grip impersonal. He pushed the ring onto Caleb's finger with mechanical precision.
Not tender. Not cruel. Just… detached.
Caleb inhaled tightly, willing himself not to look hurt.
He should be used to detachment by now.
He should be used to being invisible.
The officiant began the final blessing.
Just a few more minutes, Caleb thought. Then he could breathe again. Then he could find a corner and collect himself. Then he could—
A sound sliced through the hall.
Crack.
A sharp, deafening gunshot echoed from outside the entrance.
Guests shrieked. Guards reached for weapons in unison. The entire hall rippled with panic.
Caleb froze.
Lucian's head snapped toward the doors, eyes narrowing—not startled, but instantly assessing danger. His whole posture shifted, muscles coiled, aura flaring like a warning.
"Stay here," he ordered under his breath.
Stay here? Caleb could barely stand.
The guests were already pushing back, ducking, scrambling for cover. The chandeliers trembled overhead. The guards at the entrance moved swiftly, communicating in rapid codes.
The officiant stumbled backward, dropping the ceremonial book.
Caleb tried to take a step—then stopped when Lucian's gaze pinned him.
"I said," Lucian repeated, cold and sharp enough to cut, "stay."
Caleb nodded, breath unsteady.
Another gunshot rang out. Louder. Closer.
The entire hall erupted.
But through the chaos, through the screams and the shouts and the clattering of chairs, Caleb could only focus on Lucian—standing tall, focused, already moving toward danger without hesitation.
Without fear.
Without him.
For a brief second, Lucian looked back—not at Caleb, but past him, like checking if the hall's exits were secure. But Caleb caught the edge of his gaze anyway.
It wasn't warm.
It wasn't gentle.
It was the gaze of a man who had never once considered him part of his world.
Caleb felt something inside him fracture quietly.
The world blurred around him, voices muffled by the pounding in his ears.
He had known this marriage would be cold.
He hadn't realized it would freeze him from the inside out.
Another gunshot exploded, shaking the hall.
Guests screamed again.
Caleb stood there, ring freshly placed on his finger, heart shivering in his chest, as the wedding dissolved into chaos around him—his vows still hanging unfinished in the air.