Ava POV:
The dress was a modified Omega uniform—cheap polyester that smelled of industrial detergent.
"Perfect," Chloe sneered, adjusting the diamond tiara. She wore the Luna’s ceremonial silver robes. "You’ll walk three paces behind me. Serve drinks. Don't speak."
I felt the weight of the silver bracelet hidden under my sleeve. It kept my White Wolf sedated, barely a whisper in my mind.
"Let's go," Liam muttered.
The Full Moon Charity Gala was packed. The ballroom smelled of roasted venison and power.
As we entered, whispers followed us.
"Is that Ava Mitchell?"
"Dressed like a maid. How the mighty have fallen."
I kept my chin high. I took a tray of champagne.
"Champagne, Alpha?" I asked a visiting leader.
He looked at me, intrigued. "You smell... interesting. Like ozone and snow. Why is a wolf with your aura serving drinks?"
"Politics."
He took a glass, fingers brushing mine. "If Blackwood doesn't appreciate you, my pack is hiring."
Across the room, Liam stiffened. His head snapped toward us like a whip.
I moved on. Despite the dress, despite the silver, I wasn't invisible. Male wolves turned to watch.
Chloe noticed. Her smile faltered as a young Beta asked me to dance.
"I... I shouldn't," I feigned shyness.
"One dance," the Beta insisted.
As we spun, Liam marched across the floor. Possessiveness darkened his face. He shoved the Beta aside.
"She's working," Liam growled.
The Beta backed off. "Easy, Alpha."
Liam grabbed my arm, dragging me to the shadows.
"You are enjoying this," he hissed. "Flaunting yourself."
"I was serving drinks, Liam."
"You are mine," he snarled. "You don't dance with other males."
"I'm yours?" I laughed, a hollow sound. "You never marked me. You never claimed me. You let Chloe wear my robes. I belong to no one."
"You belong to the pack!"
Chloe appeared, breathless. "Liam! People are staring. Why are you talking to the help?"
Liam released me like I was burning him.
"Get out of here," he commanded. "Back to the kitchen."
I smoothed my dress. As I turned, I brushed past Chloe. With a sleight of hand learned from a pickpocket client, I dusted microscopic tracking powder onto her hem.
"Enjoy your night, Luna," I whispered.
I walked away. He thought he had won. He didn't know I was mapping the battlefield.
