Chapter 4

The day of the mate ceremony arrived.

At 6:00 AM, Sophia Parker arrived to do my makeup.

When she unpacked the twenty-thousand-dollar designer wedding dress and held it against me, her hands began to shake.

"Lily Anderson... your arms..."

The dress was a strapless, off-the-shoulder gown, leaving my collarbones and arms completely exposed.

The lean, hard muscle definition on my forearms was clear.

"Don't worry about it. Just put on some heavy concealer."

Sophia bit her lip and stopped asking. She applied three layers of heavy-duty concealer to hide the fading bruises.

Once the gown was on and the veil was set, I turned around in front of the mirror.

The woman in the reflection was breathtaking in her white gown.

She looked entirely different from the weak, fragile girl who had been slaughtered in my past life.

The old Lily Anderson was dead.

The one standing here had crawled back from the depths of hell.

At 8:00 AM, the wedding car arrived.

Ethan Miller, looking sharp in a tailored black tuxedo, stood by the door. His face was cleanly shaved, his shoes polished to a high shine.

His eyes lit up when he saw me.

I smiled, took his arm, and got into the car.

Sharon Taylor was sitting in the front passenger seat. She wore a simple bridesmaid dress, her hair in a low ponytail, with minimal makeup.

She turned around, giving me a weak, fragile smile.

"Lily, you look so beautiful today."

Then she covered her mouth and let out a soft cough.

I reached out and squeezed her hand with a warm smile.

"Thank you, Sharon. I know you've been feeling under the weather, yet you still came to be my bridesmaid. It means so much."

"Of course. Witnessing your happiness makes it all worth it, Lily."

Ethan glanced at Sharon in the rearview mirror, and Sharon caught his gaze.

The look they exchanged lasted less than a second, but I saw it all—the triumph, the thrill, and the sick anticipation.

The car drove into the grandest banquet hall in the territory.

Flowers lined the entrance, and a red carpet rolled out to the doors.

Ethan got out first, opened my door, and offered his hand like a perfect gentleman.

"We're here, babe."

I lifted my skirt, took his arm, and walked in.

As we pushed open the heavy double doors of the banquet hall, the crowd erupted into thunderous applause.

I scanned the room.

The floral arrangements, the lighting, the tables—everything matched the expensive plans.

Except for one thing. In the center of the hall, where the champagne tower should have been, a large, empty combat ring had been cleared out.

I pretended to be shocked and looked at Ethan.

"What is... this?"

Ethan patted my hand gently, his voice smooth and reassuring.

"Don't worry, Lily. It’s just pack tradition. A Beta’s mate needs to show her strength to bless the union. It’s for good luck."

He stepped aside, and Sharon walked out from behind him, a sports jacket zipped up over her bridesmaid dress.

She still wore that fragile, sickly expression. "Lily, Ethan insisted on this. I tried to say no. Don't worry, I'm so weak right now, I probably don't even have half your strength. We'll just tap each other and call it a day."

The guests, clueless about the scheme, began to cheer and jeer.

"Go for it! It's tradition!"

"Don't be shy, bride! Show us what you got!"

"Sharon is basically a twig, Lily! You've got nothing to fear!"

The cheers grew louder and louder.

Everyone was laughing, cheering, thinking it was a harmless game.

Just like in my past life.

I remained silent for ten seconds, then looked straight into Ethan's eyes.

"I'll do it."

Ethan blinked, caught off guard.

I continued, "But on one condition. In case of any accidents, we sign a blood oath so no one can blame the other."

I took a document from Sophia, who was waiting nearby, and unfolded it in front of Ethan.

The terms were spelled out in bold, black ink.

*“During the sparring session, any physical injury caused by either party shall be the sole responsibility of the injured party. Neither party shall seek compensation or legal action.”*

Ethan looked down at the document, his lips twitching into a smirk.

To him, I was signing my own death warrant.

Sharon’s eyes lit up, and she snatched the pen to sign her name immediately.

Once she signed the blood oath, I handed the paper back to Sophia for safekeeping.

Then, under the gaze of three hundred guests waiting for a show, I slowly unzipped and stepped out of my wedding gown, revealing the athletic wear I wore underneath.