Chapter 37: Different.
June 20 2026, 8:45am.
The walls of the large fancily decorated hall felt like they were closing in on Nyx’ara, squeezing her in until she began to feel claustrophobic and nauseous.
But it was all in her head.
Her face was flushed, pale and sweaty, and her heart raced so loudly she feared the few people present could hear it trying to make its way right out of her chest. Her hands trembled violently as her eyes darted between the Alphas and the priest dressed in a robe between them, and in that moment, the only thing she could think about was how this was all a terrible mistake.
How this was wrong in every way.
How she was selling away her life... her future to these twisted men because of a single lie Flynn had cooked up because of Elara.
—And how she would be bound to them forever until that lie was proven to be untrue.
For the umpteenth time today, she rubbed her sweaty palms over her dazzling dress and sighed when she noticed a small crease that had formed at the corner right over where she had just rubbed at.
Her heart fell.
The dress was a pearly white mermaid wedding dress designed with millions of diamonds scattered all over it in such a way that it caught the light whenever she moved. Merely looking at it, she knew that it cost a fortune— even more than all her organs put together— hence the reason she was so afraid to ruin it.
Her eyes stayed on only that stain, never leaving, as the priest rambled on and on about wedding vows, and by the time he turned to her and said: "Now, it is your turn, bride," her breath caught in her throat.
Right at that moment, she lost every ability to move or speak. She could not look up at the men who obviously were glaring at her with the usual contempt in their dark eyes.
Her heart pounded against her chest with a speed fast enough to knock anyone off their feet, and in that moment, she had an irresistible urge to flee.
She wanted to run. To hide.
She wanted to scream out the truth and save herself from this madness.
Her eyes darted upward just in time to see Draven glaring straight at her. His hand around his famous staff was almost turning chalk white. He said nothing to her but the look in his eyes was enough. It promised her torture. It promised her pain. It promised her damnation if she did as much as take a step away from them.
She gulped.
"Are you ready now, my lady?" The priest asked, and before she could respond, Rhys beat her to it.
He snorted. "Yes."
Usually, the priest would not have continued if she didn’t consent, but as it is the infamous DARK we were talking about here, he cast her one apologetic look and lowered his head to read out some things from his holy book. Then he turned to Nyx’ara and said;
"Lady Nyx’ara Devereux, please repeat after me."
Once again, her heart plummeted. Her body convulsed with terror and panic. Her eyes watered and her mouth went dry. She nodded slowly.
"I, Lady Nyx’ara Devereux, daughter of... who is your father again, child?" His voice trailed off to ask her quietly, but just as he did, Rhys leaned close, dragged his eyes over her body with enough hate to send shivers up her spine, and hissed, "Her father is unimportant."
She flinched at the insult but upon realizing that her father was indeed unimportant, she lowered her head and listened to him continue;
The priest nodded in understanding, "...on this day, take Alpha Draven, Azriel, Rhys and Kieran Stormborn as my lawfully wedded husbands, my Alphas and mates, until death do us part."
She cleared her throat: "I, Nyx’ara Devereux, dau-daughter of... an un-unimportant man... on this day, ta-take Alpha D-draven, Azriel, Rhys and Kie-kieran Stormborn as my-my lawfully wedded husbands, my Alphas and mates, until death do us part."
She had spoken so slowly, so quietly to minimize her stutter but it had still slipped through, embarrassing her.
Her face colored a bright shade of red when she noticed the small ripple that passed through the crowd as soon as she spoke those words— the same ripple which quieted down when it was the Alphas’ turn to say their vows.
All four brothers repeated their vows, their voices colder than the last and by the time they were done, Nyx’ara was panting as though she had run a marathon.
Her heart was roaring in her ears with such loudness, it almost rendered her deaf.
Suddenly, she felt a shove and blinked just in time to see the priest frowning at her. She frowned right back.
"Lady Nyx’ara Devereux, do you take Alphas Draven, Azriel, Rhys and Kieran to be your husbands forever?" He asked, and goddess, she wanted to say no.
She wanted to give them all her middle finger and run away into the sunset with the invisible love of her life.
However, one look at their faces had that dream dying almost instantly. She nodded. "Yes."
"Alphas, do you take this woman before you, Lady Nyx’ara Devereux to be your lawfully wedded wife forever?"
"Yes, we do." Draven and Rhys answered first.
"We do," Azriel and Kieran echoed.
Looking satisfied, the priest nodded and rasped; "Is there anyone here who is against this union? Speak now or forever hold your peace!"
Silence.
A second passed.
Two.
Five.
Nyx’ara hoped that someone would rise. For the first time in the past ninety-six hours since she got to this pack, she was rooting for Seraphina.
In desperation, she turned to search through the small crowd, found the said Seraphina seated somewhere at the back, and frowned in confusion.
Why was she not bursting through the crowd and crying her eyes out?
Why is she not seizing this opportunity to claim her men?
"Please..." she mouthed, but the girl wouldn’t acknowledge her. In fact, she turned away and pretended not to see her.
Feeling deflated, she could only watch as her four archenemies smiled in satisfaction. The priest nodded once more and barked;
"Seeing as all rites have been fulfilled, you may now mark the bride!"
Nyx’ara froze.
"M-mark?" She stuttered, "...si-since when do-do pe-people mark each other at-at weddings instead of-of kissing?"
And as soon as she asked that, something in the quad’s eyes flashed. Rhys smiled at her and drawled; "If you want us to kiss you, say so; but over here, we mark our brides, we don’t kiss her."
A tremor ran down Nyx’ara’s body but before she could find the right words to say, large hands clamped around her upper arm, pulling her flush against a wall of muscle. Her cheeks burned hot and bright. Her body shook with so much force, it made her knees weak. Her heart raced so much, it began to hurt.
She gulped.