The Lancaster estate was exactly what I’d expected—big, cold, and intimidating. The gates loomed high as they slowly opened for our car. I sat in the backseat, my fingers gripping the hem of my sweater, watching the mansion come into view.

“Are you okay?” Dad said, glancing at me through the rearview mirror.

I met his gaze, trying to keep my voice steady even though my insides were in turmoil. “Yes, I am. . . For the pack.”

We drove up the long driveway, passing perfectly trimmed hedges and towering stone statues that seemed to be watching us. At the top of the hill stood the Lancaster mansion, its dark stone walls casting long shadows in the afternoon sun.

When we parked, a tall man in a sleek black suit greeted us. His piercing blue eyes and sharp features were unmistakable—Killian Lancaster, Sebastian’s younger brother.

“Alpha Alex,” he said, his voice smooth. “And this must be Saffire.”

I stepped out of the car, straightening up. “Yes.”

Killian’s gaze lingered on me for a moment, like he was sizing me up, before he nodded toward the house. “Come inside. My father’s waiting.”

The inside of the Lancaster mansion felt as imposing as the outside. High ceilings, dark wood paneling, and an air of old money filled the space.

We were led to a grand sitting room where Victor Lancaster, the head of the Lancaster pack, was sitting by the fireplace in an ornate chair. He stood up when we entered, his presence demanding attention.

“Alpha Alex,” he greeted my dad, shaking his hand. Then his eyes turned to me. “And you must be Saffire. Thanks for coming.”

I gave a small nod, unsure of what to say.

“Please, sit,” Victor said, motioning to the leather couches.

Once we were settled, he got straight to the point. “You know why you’re here. Our families stand to gain a lot from this arrangement. Your pack needs resources, and we need… hope.”

My dad spoke first. “Victor, I’ve told you before, we appreciate the offer. But I want Saffire to hear everything from you. No surprises.”

Victor’s gaze softened a little when he looked at me. “Of course. I won’t sugarcoat it, Saffire. My son, Sebastian, is alive, but he’s cursed by a rogue witch. He’s stuck in a sort of limbo—unable to wake up, unable to heal.”

I swallowed, the weight of his words sinking in. “And you think… our marriage will fix that?”

Victor leaned forward, looking serious. “The curse is tied to isolation. The witch’s last words were cryptic, but we believe forming a strong bond—especially a mate bond—might break it.”

“Or it might not,” I said, blunt as always.

Victor didn’t flinch. “True. But if it works, it will save him. And in return, we’ll save your pack.”

I glanced at my dad, who gave me an encouraging nod.

“What happens if it doesn’t work?” I asked.

“Then we keep our promise,” Killian chimed in. “The alliance stands either way. You won’t be left alone.”

His words were meant to reassure me, but the knot in my stomach didn’t loosen.

After the meeting, Victor suggested I visit Sebastian.

“Take your time,” he said. “You should see what you’re agreeing to.”

Killian led me down a long hallway to a set of double doors. “He’s in here,” he said, opening them.

The room was dim, the curtains pulled tight over the windows. In the center of the room was a big bed, and lying on it was Sebastian Lancaster.

He was nothing like I’d imagined. Even unconscious, his presence was powerful. Dark hair framed a chiseled face, and his broad shoulders made the bed look small. But it was the scar along his jawline and the tension in his expression that told the story of a man who’d fought—and lost.

I hesitated in the doorway. “Does he… know anything? Can he hear us?”

Killian shook his head. “We’re not sure. Some say those in his condition can hear everything. Others think it’s like being trapped in a dream.”

I took a step closer, my heart racing. “What was he like? Before the curse?”

Killian’s expression softened. “Sebastian was complicated. Strong, loyal, but shut off. He carried the weight of the pack on his shoulders. Never let anyone get close.”

“Why?” I asked, more curious than I wanted to admit.

“He thought it made him a better leader,” Killian replied. “But I think it just made him lonely.”

I looked down at Sebastian, wondering if this was the life I was about to walk into.

Later that evening, I found myself in the estate’s library, staring out at the darkening sky. My dad came up to me, a concerned look on his face.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

I sighed. “I’m thinking this is crazy. I don’t even know him, Dad. And he’s—” I gestured vaguely. “Like this.”

“I know,” he said gently. “But I also know you, Saffire. You’re stronger than you think. And this could be the chance we’ve been hoping for.”

I turned to face him. “Do you really believe that? Or is this just about the pack?”

“It’s both,” he admitted. “But I wouldn’t ask this of you if I didn’t believe you could handle it.”

I nodded slowly, feeling the weight of his words.

“Okay,” I finally said. “I’ll do it.”

It felt like stepping off a cliff, but there was no turning back now.

The days after were a total blur—awkward introductions, endless expectations, and tension so thick it was exhausting. The Lancater weren’t outright hostile, but they definitely weren’t warm and fuzzy either.

Victor was all business, Killian kept his distance, and the rest of the pack watched me like I was some sort of experiment.

One afternoon, I found myself back in the chair by his bed, staring at the walls. The silence was suffocating, so I broke it.

“This isn’t exactly what I had in mind for my life, you know,” I said, tugging at the hem of my shirt. My voice sounded flat in the giant room. “I was supposed to marry Halvard. But he. . . He betrayed me!”

I glanced at him, half-hoping for some kind of miracle response. Nothing.

“But nope,” I went on, the bitterness creeping into my tone. “Instead, I get shoved into this mess. A cursed husband. A pack that’s barely holding it together. And absolutely no one seems to care what I want.”

Still nothing.

I sighed, leaning back. “You’re not exactly great at small talk, are you?”

Right as I was about to give up and let the silence take over again, my phone buzzed. For a second, I let myself hope it was my dad or someone from my pack.

It wasn’t.

It was a social media notification.

Curiosity got the better of me, and I opened it. Instant regret. Amelia had just posted her engagement photos with Harvard. They were all dressed up, smiling like they’d just won the lottery.

The captions were bad enough. “To forever with my true mate.”

But the comments? Those were a whole new level of awful.

“They’re perfect together!”

“Finally, someone worthy of Harvard.”

“What happened to the other girl? Oh, right—she wasn’t good enough.”

“Imagine getting dumped by your own mate for someone better.”

Each comment felt like a punch to the gut. And then I saw the one that broke me:

“Amelia is everything Saffire could never be. No wonder Harvard chose her.”

My hands started shaking as I slammed my phone down on the table. Anger bubbled up, drowning out everything else. Without thinking, I picked up my phone and went back to the post. My fingers flew across the screen, typing out a response.

“Well, you both deserve each other. A traitor and a worthless fraud—perfect match.”

I hit send before I could second-guess myself, then blocked both of their accounts. My chest heaved as I deactivated my entire social media, cutting off the flood of negativity.

For a moment, I just sat there, staring at the wall and trying to calm down.

Then my phone buzzed again.

I glanced at the screen and saw Harvard's name flashing. Great. Just what I need.

I declined the call, my jaw tightening.

A moment later, another notification popped up—a message from Amelia.

“Jealous much? You’ll never have what I do. Keep dreaming, bitch.”

My fingers twitched, tempted to throw the phone across the room.

And then Harard messaged.

“Leave Amelia alone, or you’ll regret it. Bullying her just proves how pathetic you are.”

That was the last straw. I called him back, my blood boiling.

When he picked up, his voice was smug. “Finally decided to answer?”

I cut him off. “Listen to me, Harvard. Stop contacting me. I’m done with you, with her, with all of it. Newsflash—I’m engaged to a powerful Alpha now, so whatever this is? It’s over! Don’t call or text me again.”

He laughed, a cruel sound that made my skin crawl. “A powerful Alpha? Who would marry someone like you? Everyone knows your family’s pack business is going under. Bankrupt. And let’s not forget—you’ve been madly, deeply obsessed with me for years. You’re just trying to make me jealous.”

For a moment, his words stung, but then I burst out laughing, startling myself with how bitter it sounded.

“Obsessed with you? Oh, please,” I shot back, my tone laced with sarcasm. “If anything, I was obsessed with the idea of you, Harvard. You were never half the man I thought you were—and now, I see you for what you really are. A pathetic excuse for a mate who threw away the best thing he’d ever have for a cheap replacement.”

The silence on the other end was satisfying, and before he could respond, I added, “Enjoy your life with Amelia. You deserve each other. Goodbye, Harvard.”

I ended the call, blocked his number, and tossed my phone onto the table.

Turning back to Sebastian, I was shocked by what I saw.

I rubbed my eyes.

Wait. Was I being delusional or did Sabastian's fingers just twitched?