Married my Alpha's brother

"A toast to our new Luna!" a voice roared over the clinking of crystal glasses.

I sat at a tiny table near the kitchen doors. The draft from the swinging hinges bit into my bare shoulders.

At the head table, Jessica stood up. She wore my white silk gown. The pearls Clara had pinned into my hair this morning now rested against Jessica’s throat.

"Thank you, everyone," Jessica projected, lifting a gold goblet. "The Moon Goddess brought me back to my true mate."

A chorus of cheers shook the banquet hall.

I stared at the empty chair across from me. Jacob hadn't joined the feast yet.

"Look at her," a woman muttered a few feet away. "Sitting in the shadows like a stray."

"A wolfless reject and a crippled Alpha," a male warrior chuckled. "A match made in the dirt."

I picked up a fork and traced the rim of my empty plate.

A shadow fell over my table.

Jessica stood there, flanked by two of Neo’s guards. The silk train of my dress pooled around her feet.

"Are you enjoying the party, Brenda?" Jessica asked.

"The music is a bit loud," I replied.

"I thought you might need a drink." She swirled the dark liquid in her glass. "It must be hard, watching someone else live the life you begged for."

I leaned back in the rickety wooden chair. "You can keep the dress, Jessica. It fits you a little loose anyway."

Her smile vanished. A muscle ticked beneath her eye.

She cut her gaze to the guard on her right.

The warrior stepped forward, his massive shoulder slamming directly into my side.

"Watch out!" he mocked, tipping a full pitcher of red wine.

The cold liquid splashed across my chest, soaking into my pale skin and ruining my clothes. It dripped down my chin and onto the floor.

The entire hall erupted in laughter.

"Clumsy," Jessica sneered. "Maybe you should go clean yourself up. You smell like a tavern floor."

I wiped my cheek with the back of my hand. I didn't cry. Instead, a dry, humorless chuckle escaped my lips.

The laughter around me suddenly died.

A sharp, deafening crash echoed across the marble floor.

Every head in the room snapped toward the entrance.

Jacob sat in his steel wheelchair. Shards of a broken champagne flute scattered around his tires.

He didn't yell. He didn't even raise his voice.

"Silence."

An invisible weight slammed into the room. The pressure forced several pack members to their knees. My chest tightened. It was the crushing power of an Alpha, suffocating and absolute.

Jacob wheeled himself forward. The crowd split wide open, scrambling out of his path.

He stopped right next to my table. His dark eyes swept over my wine-stained clothes.

"Who did this?" Jacob asked.

No one spoke.

"I will not ask again."

The guard who bumped me took a shaky step backward. "It was an accident, Jacob."

"Alpha Jacob," he corrected, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the floorboards.

Neo pushed through the crowd, his face flushed red. "Brother, this is my wedding feast. Do not cause a scene over a clumsy mistake."

Jacob shifted his stare to Neo. "She is my wife. She is the Luna of my household."

"She has no wolf!" Neo shouted.

"She carries my mark," Jacob countered. He gripped the armrests of his chair. "Anyone who disrespects her, disrespects me. If I see a single drop of wine on her again, I will tear out the throat of the man who spilled it. Do you understand?"

Neo opened his mouth, but the oppressive aura forced him to snap his jaw shut. He nodded once, stiffly.

Jacob turned his chair. "We are leaving, Brenda."

I stood up, ignoring the sticky wine clinging to my skin, and walked out behind him.

The cold night air hit my face the moment we exited the Great Hall.

We moved in silence down the cobblestone path toward the outer edge of the territory.

"Thank you," I said, breaking the quiet.

Jacob stopped his chair. He didn't look back at me.

"Save your gratitude," he said.

I frowned. "You defended me in there."

"I defended my name," Jacob replied. His tone held zero warmth. "You are my wife in name only. If they treat you like dirt, it makes me look weak. Do not misunderstand my actions."

The words stung. I crossed my arms over my chest, shivering in the damp night air.

"I understand," I told him.

"Good. Keep your head down and stay out of Neo's way."

He pushed his wheels forward again.

I stayed rooted to the spot for a second, fighting the knot in my throat. I refused to let him see me upset. I squared my shoulders and followed.

When I glanced up, Jacob had paused near the bend in the path. His head was turned slightly, his dark eyes fixed on me from over his shoulder. He watched me until I caught up, then immediately faced forward again.

Jacob’s quarters sat on the very edge of the pack lands.

No grand pillars. No servants. Just a dim, stone cabin surrounded by overgrown pine trees.

"Your room is on the left," Jacob said as we entered the narrow hallway. "I sleep on the right. Do not cross into my space."

"Fine."

I walked into the small bedroom. A single bed, a wooden dresser, and a dusty window.

I grabbed a towel from the washbasin and scrubbed the dried wine off my neck. I needed a distraction. I opened my small duffel bag and started unpacking my few belongings.

I pulled open the top drawer of the dresser.

It stuck halfway. I jiggled the handle, pulling harder.

The drawer yanked free. A hidden compartment beneath it popped open, spilling a manila folder onto the floorboards.

Papers scattered across the rug.

"Oops," I muttered, dropping to my knees to gather them.

My eyes caught the bold red letters stamped across the top page.

Confidential Medical Evaluation - Jacob Cross.

I shouldn't read it. I knew I shouldn't.

But the second line glued my eyes to the page.

Condition: Severe Wolf Core Deterioration.

I scanned the text rapidly. The border war hadn't just crushed his legs. The enemy Alpha had injected him with silver-laced venom. The poison had wrapped around his inner wolf.

Prognosis: Irreversible.

Estimated time remaining: Twelve months maximum.

My hands trembled. The paper rattled loudly in the quiet room.

He wasn't just crippled. He was dying.

A floorboard creaked.

The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.

I whipped my head around.

Jacob sat in the doorway. The shadows of the hallway hid half his face, but the fury rolling off him was unmistakable.

His eyes locked onto the medical report in my shaking hands.

"Who gave you permission to touch my things?" he asked softly.