Marry Me

**Vanya

I bypassed the child-sized bed, its pink quilt looking like a relic from a dead civilization, and sank into the small armchair by the window. Sleep was a laughable concept tonight. Staring at the dollhouse and the pristine toys, a fierce ache gnawed at my chest. This room was a monument to a life stolen from me. It reminded me of my father’s warm smile, his strong hands. He was no traitor. Being trapped in this time capsule only cemented my resolve. I had to uncover the truth behind his death.

Exhaustion eventually dragged my eyelids down. I must have dozed, but a sharp noise jerked me awake.

Footsteps stopped right outside my door. A heavy, rhythmic breathing seeped through the quiet. The scent of cedar and rain—Vance’s scent—drifted through the cracks. The mate bond flared in my chest, a dull, magnetic throb.

Before I could process his presence, another set of rapid footsteps padded down the corridor.

"Alpha!" a breathless whisper echoed, failing miserably at being quiet.

Vance let out a guttural sigh.

I stiffened, pressing my back against the chair. I didn't dare make a sound.

"Alpha, are you alright?" Colette panted, her voice trembling. "I came to check on you and—"

"Colette," Vance hissed. The warning in his low register made the hairs on my arms stand up. "Stop."

"Alpha?"

"Just stop. You know what I mean."

"But Alpha, someone has to look out for—"

"Co-lette. No." The finality in his voice hit like a physical blow.

A shrill hiccup broke the tension. "B-But... Alpha, why are you even here? Why did you order this room locked up and untouched fourteen years ago? You can’t possibly... your reputation..."

"Colette, what I do and do not do is none of your business," Vance growled, the Alpha command vibrating through the wood of the door. "And it never will be. Go. Away. And stay gone."

A muffled sob burst from Colette’s throat. Her hurried footsteps retreated, fading into the depths of the packhouse.

Vance let out another heavy breath. He stood there for a long moment. I could almost feel his turmoil radiating through the wall. Finally, his slow, measured strides moved away.

I slumped back, my mind spinning. The logic didn't track. He dragged me into my past to torment me, promising exile the moment the rejection ceremony concluded. Yet he spent the night guarding my door and protecting the very room he claimed to hate. The mate bond was messing with his head just as much as mine.

I crossed my arms, staring into the dark. I had to focus on survival, not on the confusing actions of an Alpha who had already discarded me. But as the hours dragged on, my eyes remained wide open.

***

**Kaelen

I hadn't caught a decent hour of sleep since the words of rejection left my mouth. Now, I found myself pacing the hallway outside Vanya’s childhood bedroom like a pathetic, moon-drunk pup.

The Moon Goddess had a twisted sense of humor, forging this mate bond. It gnawed at my sanity, pulling me toward the very woman I had to push away.

At least I had dealt with Colette. Hopefully, that warning would stick.

The silence of the packhouse offered no comfort, so I headed toward my study. Pack business never slept. If insomnia was going to plague me, I might as well put a dent in the endless paperwork.

I rounded the corner of the west wing. A figure stood waiting in the shadows near my door.

My mother, Vivien, stood tall in her silk dressing gown. Her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes piercing through the dim light.

"Mother," I muttered, brushing past her to unlock the heavy oak door. I pushed it open and gestured for her to enter, shutting it firmly behind us.

"I despise seeing you so obsessed with Vanya Thorne," Vivien stated. No greetings. No pleasantries.

I walked behind my mahogany desk, raising an eyebrow. "Obsessed?"

"Taking her to that cursed room. Pacing outside her door like a guard dog. You know exactly what I am talking about," she snapped, pacing the length of the Persian rug. "Did you confess how moony-eyed you were over her all those years ago? Did you tell her you couldn't bear to let the staff dismantle her childhood shrine?"

"I told her no one would touch a traitor's room," I replied through gritted teeth, dropping into my leather chair. "If you must know."

My mother scoffed, her posture rigid. "You rejected her, Kaelen. It is done. She belongs back in the dirt of the traitors' cave, digging with the rest of her kind."

"I prefer not to provoke the Moon Goddess while we stand on the brink of war with the Duskmoon pack." A dull ache throbbed at my temples. I couldn't just dismiss my mother the way I did Colette. She held power, influence, and the unwavering respect of the elders.

Vivien stopped pacing and planted her hands on my desk, leaning in. "How does keeping a traitor in the mud anger the Goddess?"

I rubbed my jaw, exhaling a harsh breath. "Vanya has tried to end her own life since I issued the rejection."

The color drained from my mother’s face. She sank into the chair opposite me, the fight momentarily leaving her posture. "Suicide? Vanya?"

"Yes. I have stopped her twice. Her father was the traitor, Mother, not her. She has endured a miserable existence because of his crimes. Frankly, I am surprised she held on this long."

"What a foolish, weak girl," Vivien muttered, rolling her eyes as she recovered her composure. She squared her shoulders, her gaze hardening once more. "Regardless, her father slaughtered your father. My husband. We cannot sweep that blood under the rug as if it never spilled."

"We?" I challenged.

She ground her teeth. "You. You know my meaning, Kaelen."

"I am not ignoring the past," I kept my voice level. "I am dealing with the present. If keeping her under this roof until the ceremony is the only way to keep her breathing, then that is what I will do."

"Then put her on a spearhead team!" Vivien demanded, slamming a palm on the desk. "Send her out and let the enemy handle the problem. I understand it must sting her, realizing you were not the boy she remembered, but this charade cannot continue."

"I am exiling her," I stated flatly.

Vivien blinked, her mouth falling open. "You are what?"

"Exile. I am banishing her from the territory, not sending her to act as cannon fodder on a spearhead mission," I repeated, leaning forward. "Once she crosses the border, her survival is her own concern. I will not have my pack whispering that their Alpha sent a woman to her death simply because he couldn't handle the rejection."

A low groan escaped my mother's lips. She glared at me, her eyes flashing with disappointment. "You cannot afford to look weak to the pack, Kaelen. Not now."

A warning growl rumbled deep in my chest. "You think I am weak?"

"I think you lose all clarity when Vanya Thorne is involved," she countered without flinching. "I do not think you ever possessed any."

The air in the study grew dense with authority. "It is time for you to return to your quarters, Mother."

"Kaelen, you must listen to reason—"

"Now," I commanded. The Alpha tone cracked like a whip in the confined space.

Vivien stiffened. She stood slowly, smoothing the front of her gown. "I love you, my son. But with the tensions boiling over with the Moon Dusk Pack, your softness will be our ruin."

"I am dispatching a spearhead team tomorrow morning," I informed her coldly. "Twenty traitors marching straight into the meat grinder. Tell me, Mother, does that sound soft to you?"

She frowned, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Before the ceremony?"

"Vanya will not be among them."

Vivien threw her hands up in utter exasperation. "Let her blood be on your head then." She spun on her heel and stormed out of the study, the door clicking shut behind her.

I sat back, staring at the empty space she left behind. My mother was sharp, ruthless, and usually right.

Was I losing my mind over Vanya? The mate bond clawed at my chest, a constant, undeniable pull. I was sending twenty wolves to die, yet the thought of placing Vanya in danger turned my blood to ice. I closed my eyes, the weight of the Alpha mantle crushing down on my shoulders.

***

**Vanya

A faint rustling outside my door caught my attention, but I didn't move from the chair. I was too consumed by the ticking clock in my head. Exile. The word echoed like a death sentence. If Vance banished me, I would lose all access to the pack archives, the older members, and any chance of proving my father's innocence. I needed a loophole. I needed time.

Half an hour dragged by before a sharp knock rattled the wood.

I let out a frustrated breath. No brilliant plan had materialized. I pushed myself up, my muscles stiff from a sleepless night, and pulled the door open.

Vance stood towering in the hallway. He stared down at a wooden tray sitting on the floor, his brow furrowed. "You didn't eat."

I glanced down at the plate. "I didn't know it was there. Sorry, Alpha."

"No one informed you?" His jaw tightened.

"No, Alpha." Honestly, food was the last thing on my mind. A cold breakfast wasn't going to fix the fact that I had one week left before my life was uprooted. The knot in my stomach pulled tighter with every passing second.

"Hmph," Vance grunted, annoyance flashing in his dark eyes. "Eat. While you walk with me."

I nodded, crouching down to retrieve the plate. I grabbed the cold bacon and the fried egg, slapping them between two dry slices of bread.

As I stood, I reached for the door handle. Vance moved at the same exact second. His warm, calloused fingers brushed against mine. A jolt of pure electricity shot up my arm, racing straight to my heart. The mate bond flared, demanding connection, screaming at us to close the distance.

Vance flinched, pulling his hand back as if he had been burned. He scowled, turning his broad back to me, and marched down the hallway.

I followed, keeping my distance. I took a small, cautious bite of the sandwich. Vance threw a glare over his shoulder, zeroing in on my pathetic nibbling. I had no idea how the man sensed my lack of appetite, but the sheer dominance rolling off him forced me to take a massive bite. If I had to beg for an extension on my exile later, pissing him off now was a terrible strategy.

We bypassed the main pack dormitories, heading straight for the dirt fields of the traitors' training center. The dust hung heavy in the air. I kept my mouth shut, but Vance spoke anyway, his voice devoid of emotion.

"We need to select a spearhead team," he stated.

The half-chewed bread turned to ash in my mouth. My stomach plummeted to my boots. A spearhead team. A suicide mission. He was sending my companions, the people I bled and sweat with, out to die. And he brought me here to help pick the victims. "Oh."

Vance stopped, looking at me expectantly. The cold calculation in his stare made me realize my hesitation was dangerous.

"Yes, of course, Alpha," I forced the words out, my voice tight.

He gave a curt nod and scanned the dusty training yard, searching for our unit leader.

Before I could brace myself, a large figure barreled into me. Jace’s arms wrapped around my waist, lifting me off the ground in a crushing hug. "Thank the Moon Goddess! When you didn't show up this morning, I thought—"

A low, vibrating growl ripped from Vance's chest. It sounded like a beast ready to snap a spine.

I froze, the mate bond pulsing with Vance’s sudden, territorial fury. I quickly patted Jace’s shoulder, projecting the most platonic 'we are just friends' energy I could muster, and shoved him back a step. "Alpha, would you mind terribly if I had a word with my friend in private?"

Vance's eyes were black, locked onto Jace. A dangerous grunt was his only response as he turned and stalked toward the center of the yard, the dirt crunching under his heavy boots.

Jace grabbed my elbow, dragging me toward the shadow of the weapons shed, far from the listening ears of the other trainees. "What the hell happened last night?"

I shook my head, quickly detailing the bizarre trip to my old room and the guard duty he pulled.

"...he still thinks you’re suicidal," Jace deduced, his brow furrowing.

"Yes," I admitted, staring at the ground.

"There is more," Jace pressed. He knew me too well.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "He intends to exile me right after the rejection ceremony."

"He... what? But you aren't actually suicidal!" Jace ran a hand through his dark, messy hair, pacing a tight circle. "Shit. This is my fault. I caused the cut on your finger. I sent you on that break, knowing you would head to the cliffs."

"I didn't think he would take the mate bond this seriously while rejecting me," I whispered, panic finally bubbling over.

"And exile? Truly? If you weren't suicidal before..." Jace muttered, his face pale. "Goddess, Vanya, I am so sorry. This ruins everything you've been investigating. You won't survive out there as a rogue."

Exile meant losing my pack. It meant losing the only chance to clear my father's name. I stared at Jace, my mind racing through pack laws, desperate for a loophole.

Then, a forgotten piece of legislation sparked in my brain.

I lunged forward, grabbing Jace's wrist with a crushing grip. "Marry me!"