Claiming the Last Alpha She-Wolf
Chapter 29: Wedded

Chapter 29: Wedded

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Chapter 29

~Rhiannon’s POV~

The morning of my wedding arrived not with thunder or triumph, but with silence, followed quickly by the rush of slippered feet and the quiet clinking of glass jars and brushes.

Three maids worked around me in coordinated silence. Powder. Balm. A faint shimmer along my cheekbones.

The cosmetics were light, nothing overdone. Just soft touches that brought out my features—like someone had painted light onto my skin.

And when they stepped back and turned the mirror toward me, I froze.

I barely recognised myself.

For a girl who grew up rationing soap and wearing second-hand clothes, this-this reflection—felt like stolen magic.

Glossed lips, silken hair in cascading waves pinned with a crescent-moon comb. A fine dusting of gold shadow at my lids.

"You look..." one of the maids breathed softly, unable to finish.

But I didn’t need her to. For once, I agreed with her comment until the door opened without a knock.

And in swept Seraphina, like a winter storm wrapped in velvet, her heels clicking against marble with irritating precision.

Beside her trailed another young lady, and based on her attire, she was quiet.

Seraphina’s eyes scanned me once—from head to toe—then narrowed in poorly veiled contempt.

"So this day is really happening," she said flatly, turning slightly to the others. "The rag’s really going to walk down the aisle in silk."

"The only ones fitting that description are you and the filth still dripping from your mouth," I stated as a natter of fact.

Seraphina’s lips twisted, but she didn’t respond to the insult. Instead, she stalked closer until we were only a foot apart, her perfume like crushed roses and venom.

"I’ll tell you this once," she said tightly, "because it’s your wedding day—and I’m feeling generous. You’ve won this round. The dress. The title. The stage."

She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping. "But the war isn’t over. You don’t belong here. And eventually... they’ll see it."

Ravyn growled in the back of my mind, a sharp mental snarl that clawed at my composure, but I silenced her because I didn’t need a wolf to stand tall, not today of all days, when I was closer to getting what I wanted the most.

I tilted my head slightly, my smile sharp. "Then I can’t wait for the final victory. I do love watching liars lose."

Seraphina’s eyes flared, but she didn’t take the bait. She stepped back smoothly, like a snake slithering from a strike she didn’t see coming.

Her heels turned on the marble.

"This isn’t over," she tossed over her shoulder.

"Then make sure your next attempt is better," I called after her. "I prefer battles that actually challenge me."

She slammed the door on her way out.

And now I stood before two massive arched doors of dark cedar, burnished to a perfect sheen, flanked by armoured guards in ceremonial silver. They didn’t look at me, but they didn’t need to.

They weren’t here to escort me. They were here to ensure I didn’t run.

My fingers smoothed the skirt of the gown once more, even though it didn’t need it. It fit like a second skin, cool silk threaded with white-gold vines.

The neckline swept across my shoulders in a sharp, regal curve, tapering into delicate sleeves of sheer lace that shimmered when I moved.

The bodice hugged my ribs, every breath reminding me of the weight I carried—not from fabric, but from expectation.

I smiled faintly. They had no idea.

I never planned on running. Not when my father was the prize.

That memory from earlier flashed in my mind. Riven’s voice as he stood at the edge of my room just hours ago.

"If I go through with this," I said, arms crossed, chin lifted, "you’ll bring him to me. No more waiting. No more empty promises."

His jaw ticked, then he nodded once. "If you behave, you’ll see him after the ceremony."

"Good." I hadn’t asked after that. Nor did I plan on begging them.

Now, as the heavy ceremonial bell tolled above the hall—its deep, slow chime echoing through the palace walls—I inhaled sharply, pushing that memory back into place.

I could do this. I had to.

A hush fell across the gathered crowd beyond the doors. The guards tensed.

The doors creaked open and every eye turned to me.

My chin lifted and my spine straightened and I stepped forward.

One foot in front of the other. Deliberate. Poised. And inside, something burned with a cold, clean fire.

The music swelled—a haunting melody played on silver flutes and crystal strings—and I stepped into the wedding hall like a queen walking into battle.

Gasps rose in the room, and someone whispered my name, but I ignored them all.

Because at the end of the aisle, framed beneath the golden arc of the ceremonial moon, stood five Alphas.

All in formal black with silver embroidery marking their house, their shoulders straight and their expressions calm.

Kael, Lucien, Riven, Talon, and Darian.

They didn’t smile, and neither did I, but their eyes tracked every step I took.

I stopped before them, my chest rising slowly as the priestess lifted her hands in silent command, and the music fell away.

"Lady Rhiannon of House—" the priestess began.

"There is no House," I interrupted, steady. "I was born in no castle. No pack. No privilege."

The priestess blinked, then slowly nodded. "Very well."

She turned to the Alphas. "Do you, Kael of the Bloodfang Pack, swear to honour and protect this union, to stand by her in strength and in weakness?"

"I do," Kael said, voice deep and low.

"Lucien?"

"I do," he answered, but his eyes... they searched mine as though he was trying to read beneath my skin.

"Riven?"

He didn’t speak at first.

Then the priestess glanced up again. "Alpha?"

Riven exhaled slowly. "I do."

"Talon of—"

"I do." His tone was clipped, but the subtle twitch of his lips betrayed something softer.

"And Darian?"

He gave a small nod. "I do."

Then the priestess turned to me. "Rhiannon, do you accept this bond before the eyes of the Goddess, and before this realm?"

I didn’t look at her. I looked at each of them. One by one.

Kael was steady, composed, but guarded.

Lucien, guilt flickered behind that flirt’s smile.

Riven, storm-eyed and unreadable.

Talon remained tight-lipped but his calculating eyes darted about subtly.

And Darian, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else, gave me a small smile that said otherwise.

Confusionist.

I looked back at the priestess.

"I do."

The crowd exhaled like they’d been holding their breath for a century.

The priestess gave a gracious nod. "Then by the power of the Moon and under her gaze, you are wedded. I pronounce you husbands and wife."

I heard nothing else.

Not the music. Not the murmurs. Not the applause.

Because my gaze drifted beyond the crowd, past the flowers, the silk banners, the petals scattered on marble, and I saw them bring in my father through the side gate.

Quietly and discreetly, but I saw him even though he didn’t yet.

And only then did I allow myself the smallest, most fragile thing of all.

Hope.