The Alpha's Quiet Mate

I wasn't given a choice. I was sold like a property on the eve of my twentieth birthday to a monster they call Alpha Kieran Blackwood.

They call it a treaty, a bond to unite two packs against a common enemy. But to me, it's a death sentence, one wrapped in silk and sealed with blood.

I didn't realize I was the price until they summoned me.

I was in my room when the Beta barged in.

"The Alpha wants you in the council room," he said.

My stomach twisted the moment I heard it, a familiar dread coiling in my chest. Nothing good ever followed those summons–just orders, punishments, or reminders of how worthless I had become.

The hallway stretched on, heavy with each step. Whispers clung to the air like smoke. "There she goes, Mooncrest's little curse." I kept my gaze fixed on the floor, focusing on the rhythm of my footsteps, the only thing I could control.

As I entered the council chamber, silence swallowed me whole. The kind of silence that was thick with judgment, a pressure in my chest that made it hard to breathe.

The council members sat in a half-circle, faces carved from stone, eyes sharp and filled with something colder than indifference—contempt. My father, Alpha Braxton, sat at the center, his gaze resting on me like I was a stain he couldn't scrub out.

"Elara," my father said, his tone flat, void of anything resembling warmth. "You're here because it's time you served a purpose."

A purpose? Like I was an object that'd been collecting dust, waiting to be useful again.

I stood there, stiff, my hands clenched at my sides.

Elder Rowan's cold eyes flicked to me, his lips curling into a sneer. "You're of no use to this pack. Mute. Weak. A shadow of what an Alpha's daughter should be." His words weren't just a condemnation—they were a verdict.

I could see the satisfaction in his gaze, the quiet joy he took in putting me down as if seeing me broken fed something darker inside him.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry, but I didn't react. I was used to this—used to being the target of words sharper than any blade.

"But you can still be valuable," Elder Hagan chimed in, his voice dripping with false diplomacy. "An alliance has been arranged. You will marry Alpha Kieran Blackwood."

The words hit me like a slap.

I wanted to scream. To say no. To tell them I wasn't a pawn to be traded like livestock. But my voice—if it even existed anymore—was buried too deep, lost beneath layers of fear and years of silence.

Then Nyx roared inside my mind.

"FIGHT!"

Her voice was wild, raw, unrestrained—a sharp contrast to the suffocating stillness that had wrapped itself around me for years. It echoed in my skull, claws raking against the fragile walls of my sanity.

"You're not their pawn!" she snarled, her rage thrumming through me like a pulse. "Say something. Do something!"

But I couldn't.

"He's a ruthless Alpha," Elder Rowan continued, leaning forward slightly as if to study my reaction. "But that doesn't matter. You don't need his affection. You just need to do your duty."

I clenched my fists tighter, nails digging into my palms. Nyx growled faintly in the back of my mind, her fury coiling like a storm. But even she couldn't break through the numbness pressing down on me.

"He won't want her," Elder Varyn muttered, shaking his head. "She's broken. He'll see that the moment he looks at her."

A flicker of something—hope? —sparked in my chest. Maybe they'd reconsider. Maybe I wasn't useful enough, even for this.

But then my father's voice cut through, cold and final.

"He doesn't need to want her," he snapped. "He needs the alliance. She's nothing more than a means to an end."

A means to an end? So that's all I was?

I stared straight ahead, my chest hollowed, and my throat burned, but no sound came out. No scream, no cry. Just silence. The same silence I had been trapped in for years.

I was screaming inside, "How could they?"

I was supposed to be the Alpha's daughter, a symbol of strength. But that was before I lost everything—my family, my pride, and most of all, my voice.

I remembered the way the pack used to bow their heads when I walked past, their respect stitched into every nod, every glance. "Alpha's little warrior," they'd whisper, smiling as I darted through the training grounds, wooden dagger clutched in my small hand, determined to be just like my father.

He used to watch me with pride, his eyes once warm like embers, flickering with admiration. "You'll be stronger than me one day, Elara," he'd say, ruffling my hair. "You've got the fire of the Mooncrest bloodline."

But the fire dies when there's no one left to keep it burning.

It happened so fast—the day everything changed. One moment, I was his pride. Next, I was cursed.

I haven't spoken a word in fifteen years. Not because I don't want to, but because I can't. My voice is buried somewhere deep inside me, lost beneath layers of fear and memories I don't dare to touch.

When I try, it's like standing at the edge of a cliff, mouth open, but nothing comes out. I've forgotten what my voice even sounded like, and maybe that's the worst part—losing a piece of myself I can never get back.

And no one noticed.

Not even him.

Now, I am being given to Alpha Kieran Blackwood, the man they call the Shadow King. A ruthless Alpha whose name is whispered like a curse, his reputation built on fear, blood, and battles won without mercy. A man who wouldn't hesitate to snap my neck if it served his purpose.

"You're dismissed," my father said, like I was a stain he was finally done trying to scrub out.

I didn't wait for anything more. I turned and left, my footsteps echoing in the suffocating silence. The walls felt tighter somehow like they'd heard every word spoken and were pressing in to crush me.

Back in my room, I closed the door quietly. No point in slamming it. Walls don't care.

I sank to the floor, knees tucked to my chest, staring at the cracked ceiling, like it held answers to questions I was too afraid to ask. My chest burned with anger. Even Nyx was silent like she didn't know how to fill the void.

—

The next morning, the door flew open without warning.

My father stood there, his presence like an unwelcome shadow stretching across the room. His face was the same as always—cold, sharp, carved from stone. No warmth. No hesitation.

"Get up," he barked.

I didn't move.

He stepped inside and the door closed behind him.

"Alpha Kieran will be here soon," he snapped, his eyes hard. "You'll stand when he enters. You'll be respectful. Presentable. And for once in your pathetic life, try not to embarrass me."

Embarrass him? Hah!

I hated him.

I didn't move. I just stared at him, my gaze burning with all the anger I couldn't voice, my fingers dug into the thin blanket on my bed, nails biting into the fabric – just to feel something.

My vision blurred as I watched him - the one I thought cared. He was supposed to be my father. My protector.

Nyx growled faintly in the back of my mind, her rage simmering like hot coals, but I stayed silent.

His jaw clenched like he was waiting for a response I couldn't give. Then, as if disgusted by my very existence, he turned his back on me.

But before he could leave—

Footsteps.

Heavy. Steady. Purposeful.

They echoed down the hall, slow and deliberate, each one a warning. The air shifted, and grew colder, thicker, like even the walls knew who was coming.

Nyx's growl faded into stillness.

The footsteps stopped outside my door.

Two sharp knocks. Not polite. Just final.

My father straightened immediately, his back rigid, his jaw tight. The door creaked open without waiting for permission.

And there he was.