Chapter 4: The Alpha’s Unexpected Arrival

On the wedding day, there were no decorations outside the Jennings villa.

Robert and Diana stood at the door, urging me to hurry. They were anxious I would miss the pickup arranged by Ironwood, but there wasn’t a trace of joy on their faces—only the impatience of people rushing to complete an inconvenient transaction.

Chloe walked over in a pink dress and tried to take my hand.

“Laurel, take care of yourself at Ironwood. I’ll miss you.”

I pulled my hand back and gave her a cool nod.

She clearly hadn’t expected the rejection. Her eyes reddened instantly as she turned and threw herself into Nolan’s arms, her expression wounded.

Nolan frowned at me.

“Laurel, Chloe was being kind. You didn’t have to treat her like that.”

I didn’t answer, my gaze fixed on the end of the street.

A line of black armored SUVs and ceremonial sedans was slowly approaching. The Ironwood crest was displayed discreetly on the vehicles, their standardized royal transit plates gleaming in the sun.

The entire street fell silent.

Even the neighbors who had come out to gawk were stunned.

“Whose motorcade is that?”

“Wasn’t the Jennings girl marrying some dying old Alpha? That looks like a high-security detail, not a ride to a hospital.”

Robert and Diana stared, dumbfounded. Chloe clutched Nolan’s sleeve, while Nolan himself took two steps forward.

He recognized those plates.

Only the Alpha of Ironwood’s personal convoy carried that specific set of transit numbers, authorized by the royal security department.

A sudden, sharp unease coiled in his gut.

The lead car came to a smooth stop in front of the villa.

A security officer stepped out and opened the rear door.

The man who emerged wore a sharply tailored black suit. He was tall and broad-shouldered, radiating a power that was palpable. He wasn’t actively projecting his Alpha presence, yet the lower-ranking wolves in the vicinity instinctively quieted.

I recognized him.

He was Emmett Shaw, the current Alpha of the Ironwood Pack and one of the youngest territorial representatives on the Royal Council.

The kingdom’s news outlets had only ever released his name; clear photographs were rare. It was public knowledge that he’d spent a long time overseas for medical treatment, and it was also known that Victor Shaw, Ironwood’s former Alpha, had been paralyzed for years. Somehow, those two facts had merged into one rumor: that the man marrying into the Jennings family was a dying elder in his sixties.

The Emmett standing before us looked to be in his early thirties. His features were sharp and cool, his posture steady. There wasn’t the slightest sign of illness about him.

Nolan strode toward him, his voice laced with disbelief.

“Alpha Shaw? What are you doing here?”