Chapter 6 06

ELIZA

As soon as I stepped out of the car, my breath caught in my throat. I stood frozen, staring at the towering grandeur of the Lunar Crest Hotel. This was easily the most expensive hotel in the city, the kind of place I'd only seen in magazines or on TV.

And now, here I was.

For a brief moment, I let myself bask in the surreal beauty of it all, but reality quickly tugged me back. Ethan's face flashed in my mind; those stormy eyes, the chiseled jawline, and the silent intensity that followed him everywhere he went.

Yes, he was obscenely wealthy and brutally handsome, but something about him was... off.

He wasn't just quiet...he was distant. Cold, even. And then there was that "alpha" nonsense he'd brought up before.

What was that even supposed to mean? It felt like he lived in some alternate reality, a fantasy world of his own making.

I wasn't sure why I agreed to this in the first place. Maybe it was the way he looked at me, like he saw something in me that I couldn't see in myself. Or maybe it was his persistence. Either way, doubts began to claw at me.

Is this a mistake?

I was pulled from my spiraling thoughts by the sound of heels clicking on the pavement. I looked up to see Margaret, my boss, walking toward me with open arms and a warm smile; a sight so out of character for her that it left me momentarily speechless.

"You're here," she said, wrapping me in a brief hug. The faint scent of her floral perfume lingered as she pulled back.

"Hi, Ma'am," I replied, still trying to process everything.

My eyes wandered past her and caught sight of Ethan heading into a conference room with two other men. One of them was Thomas. Whatever they were discussing, it seemed serious.

Margaret noticed where my gaze had drifted and gently nudged me. "Come," she said with a smile. "Let's have some refreshments. It's a big day for you."

I followed her into a grand dining hall, where a long table stretched out before me, laden with every imaginable delicacy. Plates of pastries, colorful fruit tarts, savory hors d'oeuvres, and glasses of sparkling drinks adorned the table. It was a feast fit for royalty.

Margaret picked up a small glass bowl of fruit trifle and gestured for me to help myself. "You must try this," she said, taking a spoonful. "But our hotel makes it better than anywhere else."

I couldn't help but smirk.

She knew exactly who the chef of the sweet items was...me.

I picked up a pastry, hesitated, and then turned to Margaret. "I don't mean to be rude, ma'am, but... why didn't anyone ask me if I wanted this? This wedding, I mean."

Margaret let out a soft chuckle, "Oh, sweetheart, of course you want this. Ethan knew it was the right time. He's not trying to rush you. He simply needs to make arrangements for the big day."

I raised an eyebrow. "It doesn't feel like my decision," I said, taking a cautious bite of the pastry. The buttery crust melted in my mouth.

Margaret set down her bowl and placed a hand on my arm. "There's a lot you need to learn, Eliza. And trust me, you'll understand everything in time. You're lucky Ethan is your mate."

My mate?

I couldn't wrap my head around anything they all kept saying. Are all these rich people living in their own fantasies?

"Speaking of Ethan," Margaret said with a sly smile, stepping aside. "Here he is."

Ethan ignored me completely as if I weren't even standing there. Instead, his gaze turned to Margaret, and with a curt nod, he said, "It's time."

Margaret's face lit up with a knowing smile, and without another word, they started walking toward a set of grand double doors.

I hesitated for a moment. Whatever was happening, it seemed important. Curiosity, and an uneasy feeling I couldn't quite place, compelled me to follow them.

As soon as the doors swung open, the view inside nearly stopped me in my tracks.

The room was massive, its high ceilings adorned with glittering chandeliers that cast shimmering light across the space. A sea of people filled the room, and their chatter converted to silence as soon as the doors opened. Everyone was dressed to the nines; expensive gowns, tailored suits, and jewelry so extravagant that it caught and reflected the light like scattered stars.

My breath hitched. This wasn't a wedding. I wasn't even wearing white, and there were no flowers in the room, and not even an aisle for the bride and groom to walk through.

Then, who were all these people? And why were they here?

Ethan stopped just inside the room and turned to me. For a moment, I thought he might say something, but instead, he extended his hand toward me.

I hesitated, glancing around at the eyes staring at me. Still, I forced a smile and placed my hand in his.

His grip was firm. He led me through the crowd. By the time we reached the front of the room, my palms were clammy, and my nerves were stretched taut.

Ethan released my hand to grab two champagne flutes from a silver tray. Handing one to me, he held the other up.

"The past few days have been difficult for all of us," Ethan began, "As your Alpha, I've done everything in my power to address what's happening. And I assure you, I will not stop until we are safe."

There was a ripple of murmurs, a few solemn nods from the crowd. I had no idea what he was referring to.

"But tonight," Ethan continued, turning toward me. His hand reached for mine again, his grip tightening as he drew me closer. My pulse quickened, and I could feel the heat of his skin against mine. He looked at me. His eyes weren't cold anymore, instead, they were soft and comforting.

Then he turned back to the crowd, "Tonight, I want to introduce this beautiful woman to all of you. Eliza," he said, "as my mate. My Luna."

He raised his glass high, and the room erupted into applause. Cheers and congratulations rang out from every corner.

For a brief moment, I was frozen. His words echoed in my mind: Alpha. Mate. Luna.

I glanced at Ethan. He seemed happy, smiling at the crowd.

But me?

My chest tightened, and the room suddenly felt far too warm.

The applause grew distant, the clinking of glasses and murmurs fading into a dull buzz. My vision blurred, and the edges of the room darkened. I tried to steady myself, gripping Ethan's hand tighter, but my strength was slipping away.

"Eliza?" Ethan's voice sounded distant, muffled, like he was calling to me from the other end of a tunnel.

The champagne flute slipped from my hand, shattering against the marble floor. Gasps rippled through the crowd, but I barely registered them. My knees buckled, and the last thing I saw before the darkness consumed me was Ethan's face as he caught me in his arms.

"Eliza!" His voice was the last thing I heard before everything went black.