Amiyah POV
The silence inside the SUV was heavier than the steel chassis surrounding us. Grayson drove like a man possessed, his knuckles white against the leather steering wheel, the speedometer climbing to dangerous heights. But it wasn't the speed that made my *Inner Wolf* pace anxiously in my mind; it was the suffocating density of his scent.
Burnt cedar and ozone filled the cabin, thick and cloying, choking out the air conditioning. It was the smell of an Alpha on the brink of violence.
"You smell like him," Grayson finally broke the silence, his voice a low, vibrating growl that seemed to rattle my very bones. He didn't look at me, his eyes fixed on the blurring road ahead. "Every time I breathe, I taste his pathetic, grassy scent on you. It’s nauseating."
I crossed my arms, staring out the window at the passing city lights. "It was a hug, Grayson. A goodbye. Jadyn is a friend."
"A friend doesn't rub his scent gland against your neck!" Grayson slammed his hand on the dashboard, making me jump. The car swerved slightly before he corrected it. "He was marking you. Staking a claim. And you stood there and let him disrespect me."
"Disrespect you?" I turned to him, incredulity sharpening my tone. "We have a contract, remember? Three months. That is the extent of your claim on me. You don't own me."
He slammed on the brakes as we reached a red light, turning his body toward me. The gold in his eyes was swirling violently, swallowing the human iris. The power of his *Alpha Command* pushed against my mental barriers, demanding submission, but my own bloodline—ancient and strong—held firm.
"You are my fiancée," he snarled, leaning into my personal space. "You wear my ring. You live in my house. To the world, you are mine."
"To the world," I countered, my voice drop-dead calm despite my racing heart. "But in private? You haven't marked me, Grayson. There is no bite on my neck. No bond in our minds. Until you put your mark on me, do not presume to dictate who I can hug."
His gaze dropped to the bare curve of my neck. For a second, the rage in his eyes faltered, replaced by a hunger so raw it made my breath hitch. His nostrils flared, inhaling deeply, and I knew he was trying to find *my* scent beneath Jadyn's. But then the light turned green, and the moment shattered. He faced forward, jaw clenched tight enough to snap steel, and floored the gas.
We didn't speak for the rest of the drive.
*
The Blackwood Pack's annual Unity Gala was in full swing by the time we arrived. The grand ballroom was a sea of silk dresses and tuxedos, the air vibrating with the chatter of the elite. Grayson abandoned me the moment we stepped through the double doors, storming off toward the bar without a backward glance.
Fine by me.
I made my way to the powder room to compose myself. The encounter in the car had left my nerves frayed. When I stepped back out into the plush, carpeted hallway, however, my path was blocked.
Kirsten Matthews leaned against the wall, swirling a glass of champagne. She was dressed in a gown that cost more than most wolves made in a year, her blonde hair perfectly coiffed. She looked me up and down with a sneer that didn't reach her cold, calculating eyes.
"You look lost, little wolf," she drawled. "The servant's entrance is around the back."
I moved to step around her, but she shifted, blocking me again. She reached into her clutch and pulled out a sleek, black credit card, holding it out between two manicured fingers.
"Let's cut the charade," Kirsten said, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. "We both know you're just a gold digger from some backwater pack in the middle of nowhere. You're out of your depth, honey. Grayson needs a real Luna, someone with breeding and status. Not... whatever you are."
She pressed the card toward my chest. "There's ten million dollars on this account. Take it. Leave tonight. Go back to the boonies and buy yourself a nice little trailer."
I looked at the card, then up at her face. The sheer audacity was almost impressive.
"Ten million?" I repeated, a small, amused smile playing on my lips.
"It's more money than you'll ever see in a lifetime," she scoffed.
I laughed softly, a sound that made her frown deepen. "Kirsten, my grandfather gives me more than that for my birthday just to update my wardrobe. Keep your pocket money. You might need it to buy some class."
I brushed past her, leaving her standing there with her mouth agape, the black card dangling uselessly in her hand.
*
I re-entered the ballroom, head held high, only to run straight into another wall of hostility.
Georgiana Wilder, Grayson's mother and the former Luna, materialized from the crowd. She was a formidable woman, draped in diamonds that looked heavy enough to crush a lesser wolf. Her disapproval hit me like a physical wave.
"Where have you been?" she hissed, grabbing my elbow with a grip that was painful. "The Alpha is speaking with the Elders from the Northern Territories, and his mate is nowhere to be found."
"I was using the restroom, Georgiana," I said, gently but firmly removing my arm from her grasp.
"A proper future *Luna* stands behind her *Alpha*," she lectured, her eyes narrowing. "She does not wander off like a loose Omega looking for attention. You are embarrassing this family. Do you have any idea how much effort we are putting into making you look presentable?"
My *Inner Wolf* bristled. I was done being treated like a prop.
"I thought a Luna's duty was to build relationships for the Pack," I replied coolly, meeting her gaze without flinching. "Not just to stand there like a pretty decoration to stroke the Alpha's ego."
Georgiana’s face went rigid with shock. Before she could unleash her retort, the room's chatter suddenly died down. A spotlight swept across the floor, landing on the grand stage where a black grand piano sat gleaming under the lights.
Kirsten Matthews was walking up the stairs to the stage, a microphone in hand and a predatory smirk fixed on her face. Her eyes locked onto mine across the room, promising a humiliation far worse than a private bribe.
