Married To My Enemy Alpha

Isabella's POV

A biting wind swept through the huge walls that surrounded the estate, shaking the iron gates behind me as if warning me to turn back.

But there was no turning back. Not anymore.

My heels clicked against the stone path, the sound echoing through the silence like a countdown. I clutched my coat tighter around me, but it didn't help. The cold wasn't just in the air-it seeped under my skin, into my chest, coiling around my ribs like invisible chains.

The Wolfe mansion stood ahead of me, dark and large.Its black stone walls looked more like a fortress than a home, guarded by ivy-covered towers and windows that reflected no light. It didn't feel like a place someone lived in. It felt like a place someone haunted.

And I was now the mistress of this place.

I looked sideways at the butler who had greeted me at the gate-an older man with sharp eyes and a mouth set in a firm line. He said nothing as he opened the massive oak doors, only nodded for me to go inside.

A shiver ran through me. Not from the cold.

And I hadn't even met him yet.

Damien Wolfe.

The name alone had the power to make grown men lower their eyes. Billionaire. Alpha. Cold-blooded. Rumors whispered about him in both the human world and the supernatural one-none of them kind.

And now, he was my husband.

Not by choice. Never by choice.

The marriage contract had been shoved in front of me by my uncle's lawyers two weeks ago, sealed with red wax and blood ink. I was to marry Damien Wolfe to settle a debt-one that wasn't even mine.

I tried to protest. I cried. I screamed. None of it mattered. The mafia didn't care about tears. All they cared about was keeping power-and apparently, this marriage gave them exactly that.

A door opened on the upper floor. I stiffened. Footsteps followed-slow, measured, too heavy to be anyone else's.

I didn't have to look up to know who it was. My skin felt him before my eyes saw him.

Damien Wolfe.

He descended the staircase like he owned the air in the room. Dressed in black from head to toe, not a single strand of his dark hair out of place. Eyes the color of winter storms locked onto me-sharp, unreadable, and much too still.

A predator.

"You're early," he said, voice like velvet and frost.

I swallowed. "Traffic was lighter than expected."

He stopped three steps above me, towering even from a distance. His gaze didn't move from my face. Not once.

"You're shivering."

"It's cold."

"No. You're scared."

I flinched.

He finally moved again, descending the last few steps and stopping just in front of me. I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. There was something ancient in them, like he was looking through me, not at me.

"I won't hurt you, Isabella," he said softly. "Unless you give me a reason."

That was supposed to comfort me?

His hand reached out. For a second, I thought he was going to touch my face. But he only brushed a stray leaf from my shoulder. Still, I felt the heat of him long after he pulled away.

"Come," he said. "I'll show you your room."

I followed him through long, echoing hallways filled with shadows and silence. Paintings lined the walls-moody landscapes, abstract darkness. But it was the ones half-hidden behind curtains or tucked in corners that caught my attention.

They looked familiar.

Too familiar.

One, in particular, stopped me cold. A girl standing at the edge of a cliff, wind in her hair, back turned to the viewer. The painting style was impressionistic, but the figure was unmistakably me.

I stared at it. My throat dried.

"Where did you get this?" I asked, voice small.

He didn't stop walking. "I collect art."

"But that's-how long have you had it?"

Silence.

I hurried to catch up, heart thudding now-not from fear, but confusion. This wasn't just a painting. It was a memory. Mymemory. I had stood in that exact spot during a summer trip years ago. No one else had been there.

Except...

No. That couldn't be.

We stopped at a door near the end of the west wing. Damien opened it and stepped aside for me to enter. The room inside was warm, golden, and soft. Nothing like the rest of the house.

I blinked.

The curtains were my favorite shade of lavender. A vase of white lilies-the only flower I ever liked-sat on the window sill. A bookshelf ran along one wall, packed with titles I'd loved as a child. Some of them had my handwriting in the margins.

I spun around. "What is this?"

"Your room," Damien said simply.

"No," I whispered. "Why do you have my things here?"

He tilted his head slightly, as if considering how much to say.

"I told you. I won't hurt you. I've been...preparing."

"Preparing?" My voice cracked.

"For your arrival."

He left then, without another word. The door clicked shut behind him.

I stood in the center of the room, the scent of lilies thick in the air, and tried to breathe.This wasn't normal. This wasn't right. None of this felt like an accident.

Later that night, I couldn't sleep.

The walls pressed in too tightly. The shadows moved wrong. I lit a candle and wandered toward the library-I hadn't explored it yet.

It was massive.

Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined the room. A fireplace crackled in the corner. And above it hung another painting.

My breath caught.

It was me again.

But this time, not from behind. This time, it was my face. Painted in soft, glowing colors-eyes wide, lips parted, like I'd just been caught off guard.

My hand shook as I reached up to touch the frame.

"You always looked like that when you were reading."

The voice behind me made me jump.

Damien stepped into the room, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up. He looked...less monstrous like this. Almost human. Almost.

I turned to face him. "What is this?"

"A memory."

"Yours or mine?"

His lips curved slightly. Not a smile. Something darker.

"Both."

I backed away. "You knew me before this. Before the contract."

He didn't deny it.

"I knew you before you knew yourself."

My stomach twisted.

"Why me?"

He looked at me for a long time before answering. "Because you're the only thing I've ever wanted."

And that was when I realized...I wasn't just here because of a contract.I was here because Damien Wolfe had planned it all.

Long before I ever knew his name.