The Crippled Alpha's Secret Wolfless Bride

Elise POV:

The morning sun washed over the guest suite floor in sharp, golden bands.

I bypassed the silk robes the maids had laid out and pulled on a fitted, dark athletic top and leggings that allowed me to move without restriction.

I slipped through the unlocked guest door and stepped into the southern corridor.

The thick wool carpet swallowed my footsteps as I moved toward the outdoor terrace.

I knew Blaine's routine from my previous life; before his staff arrived, he always spent the dawn hours on the private balcony overlooking the territory.

I stepped behind a wide marble pillar, peering through the lush potted ferns.

Blaine sat in his wheelchair with his back to me, the morning wind rustling his dark hair.

A sudden, high-pitched electronic chirp sliced through the air as the perimeter security grid flickered and died.

Three shadows vaulted over the stone balustrade with supernatural agility, landing silently on the balcony floor.

They wore black tactical gear, and the long combat knives in their hands gleamed with the unmistakable dull gray hue of forged pure silver.

I drew in a sharp breath, pressing my back against the marble pillar.

The three assassins moved in a synchronized triangle, silver blades aimed directly at the back of Blaine's exposed neck.

In the fraction of a second before the steel pierced his collar, the man in the wheelchair moved.

He didn't just dodge—he vanished.

A sonic crack tore through the morning air as a blur of raw power crossed the terrace.

Blaine materialized directly behind the assassin on the left.

He hadn't shifted into a dire wolf; he was entirely in his human form, yet his speed surpassed anything an ordinary Alpha could produce.

With a single, brutal twist of his bare hand, he snapped the first assassin's neck.

The sickening crack echoed across the stone floor.

The remaining two assassins spun around, their eyes wide with sheer panic as they lunged with their silver blades.

Blaine swept his right leg forward in a devastating roundhouse kick that struck the second attacker square in the chest.

The man flew across the terrace like a ragdoll, crashing through the glass railing and plunging hundreds of feet down into the city street below.

Blaine caught the third assassin by the throat with one hand, lifting the grown warrior clear off the ground.

I clamped both hands over my mouth, my heart pounding violently against my ribs.

His legs were not crippled.

The strength and speed he had just displayed belonged to a pureblood Lycan.

The dangling assassin clawed desperately at Blaine's forearm, his heels kicking uselessly in midair.

Blaine's eyes were completely molten gold, stripped of all humanity.

With a sickening crunch of cartilage, he crushed the man's windpipe and tossed the limp body onto the bloody tiles.

He slowly turned his head.

His predatory gaze locked directly onto the marble pillar where I stood.

The scent of spilled blood and the suffocating ozone of his Lycan aura flooded the terrace, making my skin prickle with goosebumps.

He walked toward me, taking measured, heavy strides on two perfectly functional legs.

He stopped less than an inch away, his massive frame blotting out the sun.

"What did you see?" His voice sounded like grinding stones.

I looked straight up into his glowing wolf eyes.

"I saw nothing. I came out for fresh air and heard the security sirens."

His bloody fingers shot forward, gripping my jawline and forcing my head back until my spine pressed flat against the stone pillar.

"Liar," he whispered, his hot breath smelling of cedar and fresh kill. "Everyone who knows my secret ends up at the bottom of the river."

My throat felt dry, but my voice remained steady.

"A dead wife raises questions from the elders. A quiet, useless Wolfless wife who knows how to hold her tongue is the perfect cover for a crippled Alpha."

His golden pupils contracted slightly, his fingers easing their crushing grip just enough to brush against the sensitive skin beneath my ear.

The sound of synchronized combat boots pounding up the hallway broke our deadlock.

Blaine dropped his hand, stepped backward in a seamless blur, and dropped into his wheelchair just as the terrace doors burst open.

Caleb, the chief Beta warrior, rushed out with a squad of armed guards, their tactical rifles raised.

"Alpha! We detected a security breach!" Caleb dropped to one knee, taking in the blood and corpses.

"Clean up this filth," Blaine muttered, his voice instantly weak and hoarse, perfectly mimicking an invalid. "And don't let blood seep into my carpets."

The guards moved immediately to bag the bodies.

Caleb stood and approached me, his sharp eyes lingering on my pale face. "Luna, are you unharmed?"

"I am fine," I said, keeping my hands folded to hide the slight tremor in my fingers. "The Alpha took care of them before they reached me."

Blaine rolled his wheelchair past me, his gaze cold and dismissive.

As he brushed past, his lips moved, his voice carrying only to my ears: "Keep your mouth shut, Elise. Give me a reason to let you live."