The Alpha’s Rebellious Fiancee novel Chapter 11

Lyra’s POV

The reception was a blur of faces, forced smiles, and quiet stares. Everyone acted like this was a day of celebration, but I knew better. This wasn’t joy—it was duty dressed in silk and wine.

Lucien stood across the hall, talking to his father. His back was straight, arms crossed, mouth tight. He hadn’t looked at me once since the ceremony. Not that I wanted him to. I stayed near my father, the only anchor in the chaos.

I turned to him slowly, my silver gown shimmering under the lanterns. “Why him?” I asked, voice soft. “Why did you choose Lucien to be my husband… my mate?”

My father’s warm eyes shifted slightly. His fingers curled around his goblet before he set it down. “I didn’t choose him lightly, Seraphina,” he said. “I made a promise. Two years ago, when Magnus found you—bloodied, broken—he swore to protect you with his life. In return, I promised you would be his son’s mate.”

I stared at him in disbelief. “But Lucien is horrible, Dad.”

He sighed. “Yes. He was.”

Was?

“But you are not just Lyra anymore,” he said gently. “You are Seraphina Drayne. The future Alpha Queen. And he—he will learn. He won’t treat you like trash again.”

I looked away, my throat tight.

He already did.

But I didn’t say it. Because I knew it wouldn’t change anything.

***

When the reception ended, I hugged my father tightly, inhaling his scent like I could bottle it for later. The night air wrapped around us like a quiet warning.

He brushed my hair back and whispered, “Be strong, Seraphina. Make them remember who you are.”

“I’ll try,” I whispered.

Lucien waited near the carriage, arms folded, jaw tense as ever. I didn’t look at him. Didn’t want to.

The ride back to the Hawthorne Pack would take hours, and the thought of sharing a carriage with him made my stomach twist.

“Seraphina is fine,” I said, my voice calm, controlled.

“Fine,” he replied.

The tension in the air was thick and unspoken. This wasn’t a honeymoon. This wasn’t even a truce. This was war on wheels. And then the carriage hit a bump—hard.

My body lurched forward before I could stop it. And I landed—

Right in Lucien’s lap.

I froze. He froze.

For one long, awkward, unbearable moment, neither of us breathed. His hands instinctively caught my waist. My palms pressed against his chest—solid, warm, strong. Too close. Way too close.

“You done throwing yourself at me?” he said dryly, one brow raised.

I pushed off him like he was made of fire. “Trust me, that was the worst moment of my life.”

He leaned back, smirking. “Keep telling yourself that, Princess.”