Erica POV:
The door opened at dawn.
Light blinded me. I didn't move. I sat huddled in the corner, my eyes adjusting painfully.
Emmanuel stood there. He was fully dressed in a tailored suit. He looked at me with a strange expression—guilt masked by annoyance.
"Get up," he said. "You smell like fear. It's pathetic."
I stood up slowly. My legs were stiff. I walked past him without a word.
"We have errands," he said, checking his watch. "Anthony is busy with the Council. I have to take you to the boutique."
"Why?" My voice was a rasp.
"The Luna's entourage needs to match," he said. "You're going to be a flower attendant."
I stopped and looked at him. "You want me... the ex-girlfriend you just cheated on and exiled... to be a flower girl at your brother's wedding to my bully?"
"It's about image, Erica," Emmanuel sighed, grabbing my arm. "It shows unity. If the 'victim' supports the couple, the rumors about Bianca die. Now come on."
He dragged me to the car.
We arrived at the pack's exclusive boutique. The windows were filled with silk and lace.
Inside, Bianca was standing on a podium. She was wearing the Moonlight Silk gown. It was a shimmering, pearlescent fabric that was reserved only for the Luna. It hugged her curves perfectly.
"Oh, look who the cat dragged in," Bianca sneered, looking down at me from the mirror.
The shop assistants, all Omegas, rushed to adjust Bianca's train. They ignored me completely.
"Put this on," Emmanuel said, tossing a hideous, shapeless grey dress at me. "Maid's cut."
I took the dress. I didn't argue. I went to the changing room.
I looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes were hollow. My skin was pale. I looked like a ghost.
I put on the grey dress. It scratched my skin.
When I came out, Bianca laughed. " perfect. You finally look like what you are. A servant."
She twirled, the Moonlight Silk flowing like water. "Do I look like a Queen, Emmanuel?"
"You look stunning, Luna," Emmanuel said, bowing his head.
I felt nothing. No jealousy. Just cold detachment.
Back at the apartment, I started packing. Not clothes. I was destroying things.
I took the photo of us from the mantle—me and Anthony, from before the corruption. I took a lighter to the corner. I watched his smiling face curl and turn to ash.
"Dramatic," Emmanuel said. He had followed me into the bedroom.
He sat on the bed—the bed where he had tricked me. He patted the space beside him.
"Come here, Erica."
I didn't move.
"Look," he said, his voice softening. He pulled a small velvet box from his pocket. "I know things are... messy. But I got you these."
He opened it. A pair of silver earrings. Cheap cubic zirconia. The metal was likely plated, safe for wolves but insulting.
"I can take care of you," he murmured, his eyes darkening with lust. "Even in the Mining District. I can visit. You were... good. Responsive."
He stood up and walked toward me. He reached out to touch my face.
I smelled him.
Underneath his cologne, underneath his musk... I smelled her. Bianca's perfume. It was all over his hands.
He had been with her. While I was locked in the closet. While Anthony was asleep.
My stomach lurched. Bile rose in my throat. It wasn't morning sickness. It was pure, physical revulsion.
I slapped his hand away.
"Don't touch me," I hissed.
Emmanuel's eyes narrowed. He sniffed the air.
"You smell different," he said slowly. "Your hormones... are you..."
He looked at my stomach.
"It's stress," I lied quickly, relying on my medical training. "Gastritis. My cortisol levels are through the roof because you people are torturing me."
"Hmm," he grunted, unconvinced. "You look pale."
"I spent the night in a closet," I snapped. "I'm going to throw up."
I ran to the bathroom and locked the door. I turned on the tap to mask the sound.
I looked at my reflection.
"One more day," I whispered. "Just survive one more day."
