I Married The Villain Alpha

Atlas' POV

"What do you think you're doing?!" Vincent's voice filled with anger echoed throughout the room.

The room fell deathly still, as if time had halted.

I should have explained myself, offered some semblance of an apology for barging into the room of his fiancée. But the truth? I didn't care. It didn't matter to me because the dread inside me melted away at the sight of her, awake.

The day before, In a border town, I overheard merchants whispering a rumor. Iris had fallen unconscious in her sleep and hadn't woken for two days.

1

I didn't think twice not caring if the rumor was true or not. Leaving Kaleb behind to handle the meeting with Abel—Damien's Beta and one of the reasons I'd come to the border—I hopped on my horse and left the town in a hurry.

My thoughts raced, each one a tangle of panic. Why did I care this much? Iris was supposed to be a means to an end, a tool to get to Vincent.

That was the reason I offered myself to her or at least that was what I told myself. But there was more now, something I couldn't name, something that made the thought of her lifeless green eyes unbearable.

The relentless thudding of my heart echoed in my ears, each beat screaming for Iris—urging me to see her, to make sure she was okay.

To cut the journey short, I did the one thing I dreaded most—transformed.

The wolf had terrified me ever since the night I found my father in a pool of his own blood, his heart ripped out, and my memory blackened by trauma.

I feared what lay within me, the beast I couldn't fully control.

But my desperation soon overshadowed my fear, at the edge of the thick green forest that stretched ahead. I could feel the terror in every muscle, the beast begging to be set free as though it understood the urgency better than I did.

I let the wolf take over, its claws digging into the soil as it carried me forward, faster than I could ever manage on my own. The beast roared, alive with rage and something I couldn't name—a need to protect her."

The transformation was brutal, as always. My bones snapped and shifted, my muscles contorting until I dropped to all fours. The scents of the forest sharpened, each sound magnified to an almost overwhelming degree. But with the pain came power—a raw, primal force that I channeled into speed.

The image of Iris's still form pushed me forward, her absence a weight I couldn't bear. Without rest, I ran, each stride bringing me closer to the moon palace, closer to her. When I finally arrived, the truth hit me like a blow to the chest.

The air was thick with tension and whispers. Servants bustled about, their faces twisted with panic. No one had to tell me—it wasn't just a rumor.

I stormed through the palace halls, ignoring every attempt to stop me.

When I reached her chambers, my worst fears solidified. Guards stood stationed outside her door, their presence alone screaming trouble.

My gaze sharpened, muscles tensed when I recognized the insignias on their armor.

Vincent.

His men.

The realization burned through me like fire, but I couldn't let it distract me. The guards noticed my approach, their postures straightening, confusion flashing in their eyes.

"Move," I ordered, my voice low and cutting.

They hesitated, exchanging uncertain glances.

I clenched my fists, my patience gone. "I won't ask again."

One guard sensing my impatience, hurriedly stepped inside, presumably to announce my arrival, but I didn't wait. I followed, shoving the heavy oak door open, my urgency outweighing any concern for consequences.

Her scent hit me first—soft, familiar, and achingly hers. It wrapped around me like a ghost, bittersweet and suffocating. And then, there she was.

Iris. Her sickly pale face pulling my gaze directly to her, where she sat on the bed, clinging desperately to the white sheets.

For a moment, our gaze locked, her dulled green eyes piercing into mine filled with questions as she stared in surprise mixed with confusion.

The sight of her, even In this state, was enough to steady something in me I hadn't realized was unraveling.

"Atlas," Vincent growled, his patience clearly thinning. "I asked you a question."

Vincent's voice snapped me back to the present, his tone sharp and biting.

My eyes lingered on Iris for a moment longer. I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to tear my gaze from Iris back to Vincent's burning glare.

There he stood annoyingly close to her, as imposing as ever, the weight of his authority pressing down on the room. But I wasn't intimidated. Not now. Not with her lying there, fragile and pale.

I stood in silence, my mind racing for an excuse to offer Vincent. The truth loomed at the edge of my lips, a temptation to shatter his arrogant composure by confessing that Iris had taken me as her lover. But I held back. It wasn't time. I needed a larger audience—a moment where my revelation would strike with the weight of a thunderclap.

"I won't ask again," Vincent growled, his voice a low, menacing threat that echoed through the room.

I met his glare with indifference, knowing it would only fuel his frustration. His temper was his weakness, and I had no problem exploiting it.

Finally, I parted my lips, letting a slow breath escape before speaking. "The border…" I began, my tone calm and measured, matching his intensity with quiet confidence. "Kaleb and I discovered some rogue packs terrorizing villages."

"And?" Vincent snapped, his brows furrowing even deeper as he stepped closer. "What does that have to do with you barging in here?"

I held his gaze, unflinching, my face a mask of composure as more lies slid effortlessly from my tongue. "It was urgent. I needed to report it directly."

Vincent's jaw clenched, his eyes on me, sharp and unrelenting. It was as though he saw through the lie, dissecting every word I uttered with the precision of a blade but I didn't flinch. My words were calculated, enough to deflect him without giving too much away.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Iris stir in her bed. Her green eyes, now wide with fear, darted between Vincent and me. The sight of her trembling hands gripped at something deep inside me, a mix of protectiveness and anger. A question began burning at the back of my mind. "What had been going on before I came in?"

Vincent noticed her movement and turned slightly, his gaze softening briefly before it hardened again as he faced me. "You could have waited," he hissed, though his attention flickered back to Iris.

I used the moment of distraction to calm myself, masking the storm within. This wasn't over, but for now, I had bought myself time—and kept the real truth hidden just a little longer.

"If you're going to talk work, you might as well get out of my room." Iris's voice sliced the tension. Her faint tone didn't match the look on her face—a glare sharp enough to make even Vincent hesitate and made me wonder where the fear from earlier had disappeared to.

Her strained yet commanding voice greased my ears. ''Both of you. Now!'' She didn't flinch, didn't waver—she demanded obedience, and even I found myself standing straighter without even thinking.

Once again, like a sweet reminder, the woman before me wasn't the same Iris I'd once known and I couldn't help the slow smirk creeping onto my lips. I quickly erased it as Vincent's gaze darted back to me, his eyes blazing with suspicion.

"You're right, Your Grace," I said, bowing slightly to Iris, my voice laced with feigned sincerity. "I apologize for my rudeness. I was… simply overwhelmed." The knowing smirk returned, bolder this time, and I made no effort to hide it.

Vincent scoffed, his jaw tightening as he turned his full attention to Iris. "I'll be back," he said sharply, the words more of a threat than a reassurance and walked out of the room, his eyes commanding me to follow.

"Before stepping out, I glanced back. Iris was on her feet, her small frame swaying slightly, but there was strength in the way she stood. Her lips moved silently: 'What are you doing here?'

'I'll be back,' I murmured, my eyes hovering over her a second longer before I closed the door, shutting out the whirlwind of emotions I didn't yet have the strength to face.