Chapter 8 The wedding

People were flooding in nonstop, arriving from all corners of the Land of Six and neighboring packs. The territory was ruled by King Alpha Crimson, the demon wolf. Before his reign, each pack had its own alpha and king. His father, Silverine Crimson, had ruled the Crimson Pack-a land famed for its riches. But Silverine's legacy was madness. He had slaughtered his own people, destroyed his land, and murdered his Luna.

Under his rule, the Crimson Pack had lived in fear and despair. In their own land, they were treated as slaves-thrown into dungeons for the slightest mistake. Cruel laws governed the era. Children lost parents to war; parents lost children. Anyone aged sixteen and above-once their wolf had awakened-was sent to fight. Those who disobeyed were tortured until their final breath.

The war between the packs had existed for centuries. Crimson, Moonstone, Evermore, Bloodstone, Mystic, and Dark Wolves-each pack had once been an enemy to the other. But during Silverine's reign, which many called the era of the foolish king, the five rival packs had united to dethrone him. They claimed he was weak. And in a world where the strong trample over the weak, weakness was a death sentence. But truthfully, they had wanted his riches. The Crimson Pack's wealth was legendary, said to be blessed by the Moon Goddess herself.

A barrier, cast by a witch long ago, had protected the Crimson family and their land. Silverine had remained hidden in his castle, sending men, women, and children to fight in the Whispering Woods-where they were ambushed and slaughtered. One might ask why he hadn't protected his people, why he hadn't used the barrier to shield them instead? Silverine's decisions had turned his own pack against him. He vanished without a trace, leaving behind his fourteen-year-old son, Crimson Stark-an alpha heir surrounded by wolves ready to tear him apart for his father's sins.

Years passed. Crimson wolf came to him, together they were unstoppable. He killed his enemies, conquered the other five packs with the help of his demon swords, his most trusted warriors. With their alpha's gone, Crimson ruled over them at the age of 20. The land of six as it was known as, has spread its territory far and wide. Schools, homes, companies, and a towering castle stood at the center of it all. Its walls held history; its halls carried power. The King Alpha ruled from there, making decisions.

A barrier kept outsiders-especially humans-at bay. The pack trained in combat, leadership, and loyalty. They were studying the old ways and preparing for the future. The Whispering Woods, just beyond the barrier, had become their training ground.

But the city wasn't all war and ritual. It had life. A karaoke lounge where wolves sang their hearts out. A bar filled with music, sweats, sex, pleasure and tangled bodies. The Crimson Pack didn't need the human world-they had everything within their walls. The Land of Six, now unified under Crimson's rule, was a beauty to behold.

The wedding was meant to be small. Crimson had only found his mate the day before-and was marrying her the next. One might think the news wouldn't spread, but it did. Like wildfire. Packs from the north and south were arriving. The ballroom was filling with werewolves-young and old. Alphas from the Silver Pack and Stone Pack were present. Flowers were being placed at every corner. The maids were decorating the ballroom with sparkling lights. A ten-tier cake stood at the center. Tables and chairs were being set for the maximum population.

Everyone was seated, waiting for the bride-their Luna. Excitement was buzzing through the crowd. Who was she? What did she look like?

The maids had gone to Trisha's room early that morning. They bathed her, served her breakfast, and left. Trisha was confused. She knew about the wedding, but everything felt rushed. Her emotions were tangled-reluctant, nervous, anxious, scared. Her heart spiked with every breath.

When the maids returned, her room was empty. A small portion of her food had been eaten-barely a bite gone. She was nowhere to be found. She didn't know her way around the castle and couldn't possibly bypass all the warriors and guards-not to mention the Demon Swords. The place was heavily guarded. Even if she had managed to sneak out, the mate bond should have alerted Crimson. But there was no mate bond.

The bride was gone.

The maids were terrified to report it, fearing they would be killed. After two hours without the Bride's entrance, one of the Demon Swords-Jackson, Crimson's beta-went to check. Trisha wasn't there.

The ballroom, once radiant with light and laughter, had turned cold. The scent of roses clung to the air like a mockery. Guests who had come to celebrate were now being questioned like criminals. The maids-once praised for their delicate touch-were trembling under punishment. Alpha Crimson Stark had ordered a lockdown. No one was to leave. Not until Trisha was found.

The Demon Swords, his elite warriors, were moving through the castle like shadows. Anyone who hesitated, lied, or looked too long was cut down. Suspicion was a death sentence. Crimson was convinced-this wasn't a runaway bride. This was a kidnapping. And the mate bond, something that had never formed, was the only thing that could have helped him find her. His only strand of hope.

He went to Nuel first. Her father. Not because he suspected him-Nuel was many things: fierce, protective, a warrior-but he would never endanger his daughter. Crimson knew that. Still, desperation made him ask.

The wedding had become more than a ruined ceremony. It was a reckoning. A hunt. A declaration that no one could touch what belonged to the demon wolf and walk away unscathed.

And somewhere beyond the castle walls, Trisha was missing. Kidnapped. Tortured. It was only a matter of time before she died. For a healer could heal others-but not herself. Her scars and marks faded quickly, leaving her skin flawless. That was the gift of a healer. But her recovery was slow. As slow as a human's.