Ronan/Lucien/Isabella

Chapter 1 – The Wedding Stained Red At my wedding, my chosen mate's sister-in-law killed herself because I refused to let her become his mistress. The night before the ceremony, Lucian knelt outside my door for three days without food or rest. "Please," he begged, his voice raw. "Isabella and I truly loved each other before Fate paired her with my brother. Now that Ronan is dead, Fate is giving us a second chance. Just let us be together." I refused. By the time my wedding arrived, Isabella's body lay at my feet, her blood soaking into the white fabric of my dress. Lucian cradled her lifeless body, screaming her name until his voice broke. Then his grief twisted into pure hatred. "I'll make you pay." He snatched a silver dagger from a nearby guard. The first stab pierced my shoulder. The second plunged into my stomach. By the third, I could barely breathe. I screamed his name, begging him to stop, but all he saw was Isabella's blood on my wedding dress. He stabbed me again. And again. And again. Twenty-one times. Each strike drove deeper than the last, tearing through flesh and bone until my white gown turned crimson. Warm blood pooled beneath me while the pack watched in stunned silence. No one stopped him. No one came to save me. With every stab, Lucian looked into my eyes with nothing but hatred. "You killed her." "This is your fault." "You deserve this." When the twenty-first stab landed, I could no longer feel the pain. Only cold. Only darkness. ... My eyes flew open. The agony vanished. Instead of lying in a pool of blood, I was standing in the foyer of the Silver Fang Packhouse. Outside, reporters crowded the gates while spectators gathered in waves. News of Lucian kneeling for three days had already spread throughout every werewolf territory. I had returned. Three days before my wedding. A cold laugh escaped my lips. Last time, Lucian had begged me to allow his brother's widow to become his mistress. Such a request was an insult to both packs. My father, Alpha Garrick, would never have agreed. The Silver Fang Pack would have become the laughing stock of every territory. Yet Lucian blamed only me. He never challenged his parents. He never defied his Alpha father. Instead, he targeted the only person he thought would eventually give in. Me. The rumble of an approaching vehicle echoed through the courtyard. A black car pulled up outside the packhouse. The door opened. Isabella stepped out dressed entirely in black mourning clothes. Without hesitation, she walked to Lucian. Then she fell to her knees. "Lucian... stop. I'll handle this." Tears streamed down her cheeks. "Someone as fortunate as her could never understand someone like me." "She's blessed." "She'll never understand my pain." "She'll never agree." She reached for his hands. "Please stop. I'm not worth humiliating yourself over. I'm not worth sacrificing your pride." Lucian immediately helped her up, gently wiping away her tears. "I'll protect you forever." Watching their performance, I nearly laughed. This wasn't love. It was theatre. Every tear. Every embrace. Every word. It was all carefully staged to make me the villain. By now, dozens of pack members had gathered to watch. The moment Lucian spotted me, he raised his voice deliberately. "You!" "You're a Priestess. Your bloodline is known throughout the continent for its compassion. You're not like ordinary she-wolves." He stepped closer. "Please... have mercy on Isabella." "Let me take her as my mistress." "Let me protect her." I met his gaze without emotion. "So your idea of protecting your brother's widow is making her your mistress?" Lucian clenched his fists. "My brother is gone." "I only want to care for her." "I swear she'll never interfere with the alliance between Silver Fang and Blackwood." "If necessary..." He looked at Isabella with unwavering devotion. "I'll even have her drink the Barren Womb Potion." "She'll never bear my children." "I only ask that she be allowed to stay by my side." The crowd erupted into whispers. "She's willing to become barren?" "Poor Isabella..." "What kind of woman refuses such a small request?" Before the murmurs could spread any further— "What is the meaning of this?" Luna Morwen's furious voice rang through the courtyard. She strode forward, her expression colder than ice. "Your brother has barely been buried." "And you're already asking to take his widow as your mistress?" "Are you trying to disgrace the Blackwood Pack?" Lucian hurried to his feet after kneeling for days, nearly stumbling. Instinctively, Isabella reached out to support him. Smack! Morwen's slap echoed across the courtyard. The force knocked Isabella onto the stone ground. "You shameless woman!" "Did you think I was blind?" "Ronan has only just died, and you're already seducing my youngest son?" As Isabella fell, both hands instinctively flew to her stomach, shielding it. My eyes narrowed. As a Priestess, I possessed a gift few others did. I could sense the spark of unborn life. A tiny heartbeat pulsed beneath Isabella's palms. Steady. Strong. She was pregnant. At least three months along. But Ronan had left for the northern battlefield six months ago. Which meant... The child couldn't possibly be his. Luna Morwen's gaze settled on Isabella's protective hands. Her eyes grew colder. "Why," she asked quietly, "do you keep holding your stomach?" Isabella's face instantly turned deathly pale.

Updated September 23, 2026