Chapter 3 3

Elara POV

Damien didn't flinch at the pounding. He smoothly unlocked the deadbolt and pulled the heavy mahogany doors open.

Matriarch Cordelia Blackwood swept into the room, leaning heavily on an ebony cane. The air instantly thickened with her scent-ancient parchment and dried, suffocating roses. Her obsidian eyes, sharp as shattered glass, swept over me with pure revulsion before dismissing me entirely.

"Julian's betrayal is a symptom of tainted blood," Cordelia snapped, turning her back to me to face her son. She gestured to the high-ranking Warrior standing at attention in the hall. "Anya. Open a Pack Mind-Link immediately. Announce that Elara Vance has been deemed 'Unworthy' by the Moon Goddess due to her impure bloodline. The ceremony is canceled."

My blood ran cold. It was a death sentence. A lie designed to save Blackwood's pride while giving them a divine excuse to slaughter my Pack and annex our lands.

Anya raised two fingers to her ear, her eyes glazing over as she prepared to broadcast the command.

"Canceling the ceremony tells every Pack that a Blackwood heir is a coward," I said.

My voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the room like a silver blade. Anya froze. Cordelia slowly turned around, her expression twisting into a mask of aristocratic fury.

I held the Matriarch's lethal gaze, repeating the gamble I had just offered her son. "But if the ceremony proceeds, simply replacing the groom with a stronger Alpha... it is no longer a scandal. It is a declaration of absolute power."

Cordelia let out a harsh, mocking laugh. "You dare speak to me, you little-"

"She has made an offer," Damien's deep, rumbling voice interrupted, vibrating with an authority that demanded absolute silence. "And I am considering it."

Cordelia stared at him, utterly blindsided. The dynamic in the room violently shifted. I was no longer a piece of trash to be swept away; I was a player on their board.

"Her?" Cordelia sneered, her cane striking the floor. "A wolfless Omega from a dying Pack, sired by a greedy fool. She brings nothing but shame to our lineage."

Damien didn't argue my worth. He argued strategy.

"Alpha Pierce of the Silvermoon Pack is already moving on Vance territory," Damien stated, his slate-gray eyes locking onto his mother's. "If we cast her aside, she will be forced to accept his offer. He will have a legitimate claim to our southern border."

He turned his gaze to me. For a fleeting second, I saw a glint of dark approval in his eyes. "She is not her father. She saw the threat and the solution in minutes. She has the mind of a Luna, even if she lacks a wolf."

The words *territory* and *power* worked like a charm. The rigid tension in Cordelia's shoulders eased as her strategic mind overpowered her obsession with blood purity. She looked at me again, this time evaluating me not as a wolf, but as a weapon.

"Very well," Cordelia said, her voice dropping to a glacial chill. "Summon the Keeper of Laws. Let's make this binding."

The adrenaline that had been keeping me upright suddenly crashed. A wave of dizziness hit me, and I swayed on my feet. Instantly, Damien's massive hand clamped around my waist. The heat of his touch burned through the silk of my dress, sending another violent, electric jolt straight to my core.

"Stand," he commanded softly against my ear.

I locked my knees, drawing strength from the terrifying heat radiating from his body.

An elderly Pack Elder hurried into the Sanctum, unrolling a scroll of ancient parchment covered in runic laws. I didn't bother reading the cold stipulations of property and loyalty. I took the silver needle, pricked my index finger, and pressed my bloody print onto the bottom of the Binding Contract. Damien did the same, his blood mingling with mine on the page.

It was done. A transaction of power, sealed in blood.

From the Grand Hallway outside, the deep, resonant blast of the ceremonial horns echoed through the walls. The Uniting Ceremony was beginning.

Cordelia stepped forward and roughly grabbed the collar of my wedding dress, yanking the delicate lace into place. Her breath smelled of bitter herbs as she leaned in close.

"The Pack will test you. They will try to break you," she whispered, her eyes flashing with a deadly promise. "If you shame the Blackwood name, I will be the one to tear you apart myself."

She stepped back and nodded to the Warriors at the door.

Damien offered me his arm. I slipped my hand through it, feeling the hard, coiled muscle beneath his suit. Together, we turned toward the mahogany doors as they slowly swung open, revealing the long, heavily guarded corridor that led to the Ceremonial Hall.