3. Expectations Outweigh Needs

Aella

My father’s limousine pulls up, sleek and black, designed to impress. He glances at me, an unspoken order in his eyes: Smile. 

I don’t need to be told; I’ve played this game many times before. There’s a time to charm, a time to foster good relations and a time to throw it all to the wayside. Alphas don’t show their weakness; they can’t.

So, putting on a smile for show, I get out with my father at my side and walk inside to meet the vultures. Marcus, Lily’s eldest brother and my guard, walks next to me as a silent watchman.

This is supposed to be one of the most important moments of my life. The grand hall of our pack mansion is so elaborately decorated, it could rival a royal wedding. Crystal chandeliers glisten above, casting warm light on fresh flowers and flowing drapes. I should be lost in the splendor of it all, but instead, my senses are dulled. 

My heart feels heavy in my chest.

I’m not here because I want to be, but because I have to be. The man I am to marry will not be out of love, not even because of the mate bond. But because of necessity. I am not sure why I didn’t think about this before, because not only are we a pack but my father operates the Italian mafia as well.

What’s that they say about mafia princesses and gold cages?

After a few minutes of socializing, my father walks up to me with wide eyes and gently places his hand on my upper arm. I’m about to ask him what’s wrong, when a commotion at the front of the hall gets my attention.

Then my heart drops.

A man walks towards us with an entourage of ten warriors and the crowd immediately parts for them. The person at the head leading them in has long black hair cascading in curls over his shoulders. He exudes authority and I immediately would have thought this was Alpha Roman.

If it weren’t for his eyes— Golden, signifying a Beta.

He looks around the room, making eye contact with me. His eyes may not be Alpha red, but they are different—sympathetic, almost sad. That’s not what I was expecting.

With a smile, he walks up to me, taking in my attire before finally meeting my eyes. “You must be the beautiful Aella,” he says softly, extending his hand. “Striking eyes, I must say. My name is Kaden.”

“I don’t believe I know who you are, Kaden,” I reply, shaking his hand. His grip is firm but not dominating, entirely different from what I expected from anyone mixed up with Alpha Roman.

He chuckles at this, then he nods to my father. “Of course not, my apologies. I’m Roman’s brother and Beta. Unfortunately, he couldn’t make it this evening.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Forgive my forward words, Beta Kaden, but your brother couldn’t make it to his own engagement announcement? That doesn’t make me feel optimistic about this union at all.”

[“Aella, what are you doing!”] My father calls over the mind link but I ignore him as he extends his hand to Beta Kaden.

“Thank you for coming in your brother’s stead, Beta Kaden,” he says warmly, practically oozing camaraderie as he shakes hands with the man. “We’re delighted you could make it.”

The room erupts in a polite applause, as though my future has just been sealed and delivered with that handshake. My father turns to me, the look in his eyes commanding yet filled with an emotion I can’t quite identify. I don’t want to say regret, given the circumstances.

“I am sure this union will do both of our pack’s well in the end,” he booms, his voice designed to carry across the hall and I nearly roll my eyes.

“I have no doubt about that,” Kaden replies with a tight smile, then he turns to me again. “Shall we take a walk around the hall, Aella? I would love to get more acquainted with you.”

My heart drops at the thought of being alone with this man, but I still offer him a smile and nod my head. He crooks his arm for me and leads me to the opposite end of the hall.

“I know Roman’s reputation precedes him,” he starts, looking directly at me, “But I assure you, he has the pack’s best interests at heart.”

“I don’t doubt that at all. But the fact that he couldn’t even show his face for this… What am I supposed to make of it?” I say questioningly and he hands me a flute of champagne from the table in front of us.

Kaden sighs and he seems to contemplate his words. “I had a feeling you would take offense, but please rest assured it was not to spit in the face of this union,” he says, drawing the champagne flute to his lips. “He had some… problems to sort out and couldn’t get out of it.”

A shiver runs up my spine at his words and from a corner of my eye, I catch Marcus, with his jaw set and scowling. His eyes are lingering on me, and for a moment, I feel a strange kinship. Does he sense my turmoil? Does everybody else?

The flash of cameras pulls me out of my reverie. The photographers, the spectators—they all want a part of this spectacle. But as they click away, capturing smiles and handshakes, I realize they fail to capture the real me. 

My clenched fists remain hidden behind my back, and my eyes, however much they sparkle under the flash, conceal a growing storm.

“I know Roman is a man of mystery,” Kaden murmurs, leaning in so only I can hear. “But it’s because he’s had to be. You’ll understand him better with time, I hope.”

“I hope so too,” I whisper back, “for both our sakes.”

He gives me one last sympathetic glance before stepping away, joining the crowd of well-wishers and curious onlookers. And I stand there, in the center of the grand hall, feeling more isolated than ever.

“So disrespectful,” I mutter under my breath, echoing the sentiment that has been spiraling in my mind. My future husband couldn’t even show up to our own engagement party.

As I survey the room, my eyes once again meet Marcus’, and a chill runs down my spine. I may have just met Roman’s brother, but the realization sets in: I am completely alone and out of my depth. 

The grand hall feels like it’s closing in on me, its extravagant drapery and gleaming chandeliers suddenly transformed into trappings of a lavish cage. Slipping away from the crowd and the cameras, I make my way to the garden. 

The back door creaks softly as I push it open, and I step into a space where the moonlight kisses the petals of the nocturnal flowers, casting ethereal shadows on the ground. Here, the air is different—cooler, freer, more forgiving.

As I walk, the earth beneath me is soft and inviting, a stark contrast to the hardness I’ve been experiencing lately. My heels sink slightly into the soil as I move. A fresh wind rustles the leaves, whispering secrets only the night can keep. 

It’s almost liberating, this brief moment of solitude, a tiny fragment of a life I once knew.

And then I bump into him.

“Marcus!” I whisper, surprised and my hand goes to my heart. “You startled me!”

As the son of my father’s Beta and my designated guard, he usually keeps a respectful distance, blending into the background like a shadow you forget is there. But tonight, he’s different. 

Up close, the years of tracking and guarding show in his eyes. Those eyes hold a strange emotion, a glint of something deeper than his duty.

“Shouldn’t you be in there, the belle of the ball?” His voice is a quiet rumble, tinged with a note of sadness that I’ve never noticed before.

“Couldn't bear it anymore,” I say, scoffing. “I needed air, space to think.”

Marcus shoots me an apologetic look and an odd look flits into his eyes. “Unfortunately, we don’t always get what we need,” he replies cryptically.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask with a frown on my face, confused at his words. Marcus hardly speaks to me, and yet now he won’t keep quiet.

“In life, especially the one chosen for us, expectations outweigh needs. You’re expected to follow the path laid out for you, without question, without fail,” he says. “You’re an Alpha heir, Aella, you should know this better than anyone.”

I look at him, my heart pounding as his words sink in. “Are you saying that defiance is futile?”

“I’m saying that stories of defiance don’t always have fairy tale endings,” he murmurs, his gaze intense as he crosses his arms. “And if they do, they’re not without their sacrifices.”

The weight of his words wash over me like a tide pulling back to reveal an unsettling truth. I think about Marcus, bound by duty yet carrying an inexplicable sadness in his gray eyes. I think about myself, bound to a man I’ve never met, trapped in a life I didn’t choose.

In that moment, something shifts inside me, like the final piece of a complex puzzle snapping into place. The realization is as clear as the moonlight above; this life of predetermined servitude, of sacrificial obedience, is unbearable. 

I can’t—I won’t—live a life that isn’t mine.

“Thank you, Marcus,” I finally say, my voice finally level and carrying zero of the emotion raging inside of me. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

He merely nods, stepping back to allow me to pass, and I wonder what thoughts churn behind those stormy eyes. Do they hold hopes and regrets of their own? I don’t have the time to think about that now.

As I return to my room later that evening, my steps are different. They carry the weight of a heavy decision, but also the lightness of clarity. 

I bypass my lavish bed, the ornate vanity, and the wardrobe full of clothes that suddenly feel like costumes in a play I never auditioned for. Reaching into the back of my closet, I pull out a duffel bag.

I have to take my life into my own hands, starting tonight.