One Night With The Rival Alpha

The crystal chandeliers overhead were not just lights; they were accusations. Thousands of tiny prisms fractured the artificial brilliance of the Vance estate ballroom, casting sharp, blinding daggers into the corners where shadows tried to hide. Debra Vance stood in one of those shadows, behind a towering pyramid of champagne flutes that threatened to shatter with the slightest vibration.

Her fingers were white at the knuckles. In her grip, hidden within the folds of a dress she had worn three times before, was a small, crinkled photograph. The edges were soft from years of touching. Her mother's face, frozen in a laugh that Debra could no longer hear, looked back at her.

The air in the room was thick, almost gelatinous, composed of expensive perfume, hairspray, and the heavy, cloying scent of hypocrisy.

"Marley looks absolutely radiant," a woman in emerald silk whispered near the shrimp cocktail station.

"A perfect Luna," her companion agreed, swirling a martini. "Edward is lucky. It's good to see the pack have a strong female lead again. Finally."

Finally.

The word was a physical blow to Debra's stomach. Bile rose in her throat, tasting of acid and skipped meals. She pressed a hand to her abdomen, willing the nausea to subside. It had been four years since the funeral. Four years since the pack had a "female lead." But to hear them erase her mother so casually, as if she were a placeholder for this moment, made Debra's knees weak.

She looked toward the grand staircase.

Alpha Edward Vance stood at the top. He was a man who used to carry Debra on his shoulders, who used to smell like pine and rain. Now, he stood rigid, his eyes glassy and unfocused, pupils dilated to unnatural black disks. He swayed slightly, a marionette waiting for a tug on the strings. He offered his arm to the woman beside him, his smile mechanical, a rictus of muscle memory devoid of the warmth Debra remembered. He smelled of chemical suppressants and imported cologne.

Marley took his arm.

She was a vision of calculated perfection. The custom Vera Wang gown hugged her curves like a second skin, the silk shimmering with every breath. She moved not like a bride, but like a conqueror claiming new territory. She glided down the stairs, her chin tilted up, drinking in the adoration of the room.

Debra couldn't breathe. The walls, draped in cream and gold, felt like they were closing in. She needed air. She needed to not be here when they exchanged vows. She turned sharply, aiming for the side service door that led to the gardens.

Two chests blocked her path.

They were broad, encased in black security uniforms that strained against muscle. Not her father's men. These were new. Marley's private guard.

"Excuse me," Debra said, her voice sounding brittle to her own ears. "I need to step out."

They didn't move. They didn't even blink.

"Going somewhere, dear?"

The voice was like warm honey laced with arsenic. Debra froze. She didn't want to turn around, but the silence that rippled through the immediate area forced her to.

Marley stood three feet away. Up close, her makeup was flawless, a mask of approachability that didn't reach her eyes. Her eyes were predatory, scanning Debra from head to toe, looking for a loose thread, a flaw, a weakness.

"The air is stale," Debra said. She tried to stand tall, but she felt small. Insignificant. "I just wanted some fresh air."

Marley stepped closer, invading Debra's personal space. She smelled of tuberose and ambition. "On your father's big day?" She reached out, her fingers brushing imaginary lint from Debra's shoulder. "We can't have you looking like a runaway, can we? It reflects poorly on the family unity."

"I'm not running," Debra lied. "I'm nauseous."

"Swallow it," Marley whispered. The sweetness vanished. Her hand moved from Debra's shoulder to her wrist. Her nails, manicured to sharp points, dug into the tender skin on the underside of Debra's arm. It wasn't a hold; it was a clamp.

Debra gasped, trying to pull back, but Marley's grip was iron.

"Don't make a scene," Marley hissed, her lips barely moving. "Edward is happy today. If you ruin this, if you embarrass him in front of the council members, you will regret it."

Debra looked past Marley's veil, searching the crowd. She found her father. Edward was laughing at something the Mayor said, clinking his glass against another. He looked right in Debra's direction.

Her heart hammered against her ribs. Look at me. See me. Help me.

Edward's gaze slid over her, indifferent, unseeing. He blinked slowly, his expression slack, as if looking through a thick fog. He didn't see a daughter in distress; he saw nothing but the hallucinations the drugs provided. The rejection was colder than the winter wind. Debra stopped pulling. Her shoulders slumped.

"Good girl," Marley purred. She loosened her grip, but didn't let go. Her eyes dropped to Debra's neck.

The Ruby.

It sat in the hollow of Debra's throat, a drop of crystallized blood in a gold setting. The ancient crest of her mother's maternal line was etched into the back. It was the only thing Debra had left that Marley hadn't inventoried, appraised, or thrown away.

Marley's pupils contracted. A flicker of raw greed, ugly and naked, passed over her face. She licked her lips, calculating.

"That piece," Marley said, her voice raising just enough for the nearby guests to hear. "It's stunning, Debra. Truly. And valuable. The appraisal on a stone of that clarity... it could solve so many liquidity issues."

Debra's hand flew to her neck, covering the stone. "No."

"Oh, come now," Marley laughed, a tinkling, artificial sound. "As a symbol of our new bond. A loan. Just for the evening. To show everyone we are truly one family."

"It was my mother's," Debra said. Her voice shook, but her eyes were dry. "It stays with me."

The chatter nearby stopped. People were watching. The tension in the air shifted from celebratory to sharp.

Marley's smile didn't waver, but her eyes turned into shards of ice. She leaned in, her cheek brushing Debra's as if offering a kiss.

"Our creditors are at the gates, you stupid girl," Marley whispered into her ear, her voice trembling with financial desperation. "I say what is borrowed and what is kept. Hand it over before the ceremony starts."

Debra stepped back, hitting the wall. There was nowhere to go.

"Trouble in paradise?"

A young man sauntered up, swirling a glass of scotch. Colin River-Run. Marley's younger brother. He had the same predatory eyes, but where Marley was calculated, Colin was chaotic. He looked at Debra not like a sister, but like a piece of meat on a clearance rack.

"The little kitten isn't playing nice?" Colin asked, taking a sip of his drink. His gaze dropped to Debra's chest, lingering on the ruby, then lower.

Debra felt dirty just being in his line of sight.

"She's just being emotional," Marley said, straightening up. "Grief, you know."

Debra opened her mouth to scream, to curse them both, but a sudden crash interrupted her.

A tray of champagne flutes hit the marble floor with a deafening shatter. Liquid splashed onto Colin's polished Italian loafers.

"Oh god! I am so sorry!"

Vicky, a maid with terrified eyes and a messy bun, was on her knees instantly, frantically dabbing at Colin's shoes with a cloth.

"You stupid bitch!" Colin shouted, jumping back. "Do you know how much these cost?"

The distraction broke the suffocating circle. Marley glared at Vicky, then back at Debra.

"I need to touch up my lipstick," Marley announced, smoothing her dress. She fixed Debra with a look that promised pain. "Bring the necklace to the bridal suite in ten minutes. Or I send the guards to fetch it. And they aren't as gentle as I am."

Marley turned and swept away, the crowd parting for her. Colin gave Debra one last, lingering sneer before storming off toward the restrooms.

Debra stood alone against the wall, her hand clutching the ruby so hard the edges cut into her palm.