On my wedding day, I promised myself to a monster so my family doesn’t die.

My father calls it a peace agreement. The papers call it a fairytale.
But every man in this city knows the truth.

I’m the truce.

Our two crime families were seconds from open war when they made a bargain: my hand in marriage to the man who owns the arena, the team, and half the guns in this city. As long as his ring is on my finger and I sit in his box at every home game, nobody starts shooting.

He never gives me a claim mark.
He never lets his scent touch mine.
He just makes sure I’m pretty, quiet, and visible—proof that the truce is holding.

Every game night, I sit behind the glass in a perfect dress and a polite smile while the cameras pan past us.
Every game night, five men below the glass look up like they see something they shouldn’t.

The captain meets my eyes during the anthem and doesn’t look away until the last note fades.
The enforcer throws hits that get suspiciously nastier whenever my husband’s enemies sit in the lower bowl.
The goalie keeps glancing toward the owner’s box between plays, like he’s tracking me as carefully as the puck.
My husband’s head of security watches the way I flinch when a hand lands too hard on my arm.
And his estranged son—tattooed, bitter, forced to stand behind us in a suit—watches his father’s grip tighten.

We’re not supposed to speak. Our scents do the talking.
Stolen glances. Stolen minutes. Moments of feeling… alive.

Until the night I hear what he really has planned for me—
No heat. No bond. No future that isn’t a beautiful, empty cage.

The next day at the rink, I end up in the home locker room with my heart in my throat.

Five alphas ready to make this real. Five alphas who realize that if they don’t help me disappear, my husband is going to lock my body down forever to keep his precious peace.

Every time one of them touches me and my body answers like it’s been waiting years for this, the girl who agreed to be a living treaty feels further away.

I was traded for peace. I was supposed to sit behind glass and smile until one of our funerals.
Instead, I’m in hiding with five alphas who risked everything to steal me, and my heat is finally loud enough to drown out the fear.

If the city wants to call that a broken treaty, fine.

Maybe it’s time the truce burned.

Knot the Truce Bride is a standalone dark mafia vs hockey omegaverse why-choose romance featuring one truce-bride omega, five obsessed alphas who refuse to give her back, suppressants and contracts used as chains, slow-burn stolen moments that explode into filthy heat, and a guaranteed HEA for the whole pack.