Chapter 15-I Don't Want This

Elara's POV The hall erupted in pure panic. Shouts rang out from every corner. Chairs scraped loudly against the marble floor as people jumped up. My father’s face drained of all color, his own glass slipping from his fingers and shattering into pieces at his feet. The sharp sound cut through the chaos like a gunshot. But the craziest part? Every single pair of eyes in the room was locked on ‘me.’ Not on the dead man bleeding on the floor with my dagger still sticking out of his forehead. Not on the silver blade that had fallen from his sleeve. They were all staring at me like I was the real monster here. Tyler bent down quickly and picked up the assassin's dagger, turning it over in his hands with a serious frown. “Why are you all looking at me like I just killed someone?” I asked, my voice ringing out clearer than I expected. The second the words left my mouth, I realized how stupid they sounded. Right. Because technically, I had. The body on the floor made that painfully obvious. “Why did you kill that man?” A woman nearby whispered, fear flashing across her face as she stepped back. Thorne looked down at the body for a long second, then slowly turned those cold silver eyes back to me. His expression was unreadable as always. Tyler leaned in and whispered something fast in his ear. Thorne’s jaw tightened. He started stalking toward me. Every step was deliberate, powerful, like a predator closing in. The crowd parted instantly, giving him a wide path. My heart slammed against my ribs as he got closer. When he reached me, his hand shot out and gripped my wrist in an iron hold that sent heat racing up my arm. “What the hell was that?” he growled, low enough that only I could hear. I lifted my chin, refusing to shrink back even though my pulse was racing. “You’re welcome. Consider it your wedding present.” A man from the back shouted, “Was she trying to kill Alpha Thorne?!” “She threw that dagger without warning—” another person said. “Maybe it was planned!” A woman yelled, voice filled with judgement. “Silence!” Thorne’s voice boomed across the hall. Everyone froze instantly. The power in his tone sent chills down my spine. “This man came here to kill me,” Thorne said coldly, gesturing to the body as his men dragged it away, leaving a red smear on the floor. “My wife acted faster than any of you.” Murmurs spread through the crowd. Some people now looked at me with new respect. Others stared with open suspicion, like they were waiting for me to pull out another knife. My father stepped forward, face still pale. “Elara…that was reckless.” “Reckless?” I laughed bitterly. “Would you rather I let him die, Father?” Before my father could respond…Tyler appeared at Thorne’s side. “We’ve searched him. The dagger had the Blood Claw clan marking. I don’t know how he got in…security was tight. Someone must have let him through.” Thorne’s jaw clenched so hard I heard the teeth grind. “Double the guards. No one leaves until I say so.” His silver eyes swept the room like a warning before dropping back to me. “We’re moving the ceremony forward.” My stomach dropped. “Now?” “Now,” he said. He didn’t wait for me to argue. His hand slid to the small of my back as he led me out of the hall. The crowd parted again. I could feel hundreds of eyes burning into us…curious, hungry, judgmental. The weight of what was coming pressed down on me like a heavy stone. We were escorted through dimly lit corridors until we reached a set of massive oak doors carved with wolves. My pulse thundered in my ears. This was happening too fast. Inside, the room took my breath away. An enormous four-poster bed dominated everything, draped in deep crimson silks that looked rich and sinful. Heavy canopies hung from the top, ready to be drawn around the bed. Candlelight flickered everywhere, casting warm, intimate shadows that made the whole space feel far too sensual for what this really was. Thorne released me only after the door shut, leaving us alone for a brief moment. I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the heat in the room. “I should’ve let him kill you.” He didn’t respond. That silence only made my anger burn hotter. “I don’t want this,” I said, voice shaking with fury. “I don’t want to do this.” I turned toward the door, but his hand shot out fast, spinning me around to face him. “Don’t piss me off, little Alpha,” he warned, voice cold as ice. “Don’t call me that,” I spat. His cold silver eyes stared straight into my soul as he leaned forward. The air between us crackled with thick, heavy tension. “You’ll moan for me,” he said, voice rough and low. “You’ll scream my name like you mean it. Sell it, Elara. Or they’ll think this marriage is weak.” The door opened before I could throw something back at him. A group of ten witnesses entered…five from his pack, five from mine, including my father. They kept their eyes respectfully lowered as they took positions around the room. The heavy canopies were drawn around the bed, thick enough that they would only see our silhouettes, not our naked bodies. Thorne guided me toward the bed. My legs felt like lead. Every step made my heart beat harder. The tension in the room was suffocating. I could feel the eyes of the witnesses on us even through the fabric. My father was there. Watching. Waiting. Once we were behind the thick canopy, Thorne’s silver eyes locked onto mine. They were intense, burning, filled with something dark and commanding. “Start acting, wife,” he whispered. I swallowed hard, my heart threatening to explode out of my chest. My skin felt too hot. My breath came too fast. This was it. The performance.