I stepped into the Hawthorne Pack manor’s grand ballroom. Crystal chandeliers cast a harsh glare over the elite werewolf families gathered for Grandpa Edward’s eightieth birthday.
The music stopped. Conversations died.
I kept my chin high, the silk of my emerald gown brushing against the marble floor. Whispers erupted around me, spreading like wildfire through the crowd.
"Is that Elena?" a woman muttered to my left.
"She looks completely different," a man replied. "Not like a runaway at all."
"She walks like a Queen," another voice whispered.
I ignored them. I scanned the room until I found the only person who mattered.
"My beautiful girl!" Grandpa Edward called out from the head table. He pushed himself up from his chair, opening his arms wide.
I crossed the room and hugged him tight. "Happy birthday, Grandpa."
"Look at you," he beamed, patting my cheek. "A true Luna. Europe has treated you well."
"It has," I agreed. "Kael sends his regards. He and Aria are flying in later."
"Good, good," Grandpa chuckled. "I want to meet my great-granddaughter."
A delicate sniffle broke the moment.
Lillian stepped out from the shadow of a towering ice sculpture. She wore a pristine white lace dress, looking every bit the fragile porcelain doll this pack worshipped.
"Sister," Lillian whispered.
A single tear rolled down her cheek, followed immediately by a violent sob. She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking as if my mere presence physically wounded her.
Derek materialized instantly. He shoved his shoulder in front of Lillian to shield her from me.
"What did you do to her?" Derek demanded, his voice echoing in the quiet room.
"I literally just walked into the room, Derek," I stated.
Tristan and Noah flanked them a second later, forming a protective wall around the weeping girl.
"Can't you go five minutes without causing a scene?" Tristan asked. His jaw tightened as he glared at me.
"Me?" I laughed. A dry, humorless sound. "Is it my fault she's crying?"
The surrounding guests went dead silent.
Noah pointed an accusing finger at my chest. "She's terrified of you. You know what you did to her three years ago."
"I didn't do anything then, and I'm not doing anything now," I replied. "If she wants to cry over my mere existence, that sounds like a personal problem."
"Apologize to her," Derek ordered.
"No."
"You are a guest in this house," Tristan warned, stepping closer. "Act like one."
"I am a Hawthorne," I corrected him. "And a Luna of the Nightfang Pack. Speak to me with respect, Tristan, or don't speak to me at all."
Tristan’s eyes flashed gold. He opened his mouth to argue, but Grandpa Edward slammed his cane against the floor.
"Enough!" Grandpa barked. "This is my birthday. We will have peace, or I will throw you all out."
Derek scowled but wrapped an arm around Lillian, leading her toward a nearby table. Tristan and Noah followed, casting disgusted glances over their shoulders.
The string quartet started playing again, attempting to cover the awkward tension.
I turned away from them, my stomach churning.
A waiter in a crisp black vest paused beside me, offering a silver tray. "Red wine, Miss?" he asked, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor.
"Thank you," I said.
My throat felt like sandpaper from the flight. I took the crystal goblet and drank deeply. The liquid tasted oddly metallic, resting heavy on my tongue.
I frowned, staring at the dark red liquid.
"You shouldn't have spoken to Tristan that way," a voice said.
I turned to see Lillian standing there, holding a small plate of appetizers. She had wiped her tears, though her eyes remained artificially red.
"Leave me alone, Lillian," I warned.
"I just want us to be a family again," she pleaded, stepping uncomfortably close.
Suddenly, the room tilted. The chandelier lights smeared into blinding streaks of yellow and white. My fingers went completely numb.
My heart hammered against my ribs. A cold sweat broke out across my forehead.
"Sister, maybe you should eat something—" Lillian reached out.
My knees buckled.
The crystal goblet slipped from my grip.
It shattered against the floor. Dark red wine splashed violently across Lillian's pristine white dress, staining the lace like fresh blood.
Lillian gasped, covering her mouth. Then, the waterworks truly began.
"It's okay!" Lillian cried out, her voice echoing over the music. "Please don't be mad at her! Sister didn't mean to do it!"
"You spiteful bitch," Derek snarled, rushing back to her side.
Tristan lunged forward. His hand clamped around my wrist like a vice. "You haven't changed at all, have you?"
I tried to yank my arm away, but my muscles felt like lead. "Release me."
"Always trying to humiliate her," Tristan sneered, his grip tightening until my bones ground together. "You just couldn't stand seeing her happy."
"The wine," I stammered, my tongue thick and clumsy. "It was drugged. I feel..."
Noah scoffed loudly. "Drugged? You threw your drink at her and now you're playing the victim?"
I looked around the circle of faces. Disgust. Anger. Judgment.
Not a single ounce of belief.
"I didn't throw it," I whispered. My eyelids drooped.
"We all saw you do it, Elena," Noah said. "Stop lying."
"She did it on purpose," Derek insisted, dabbing at the red stains on Lillian's dress with a napkin. "She waited until Lilly was close and just dumped it on her."
"I'm fine," Lillian sobbed, clutching Derek's shirt. "She just startled me. Don't yell at her, please."
Her defense only fueled their rage.
"Enough!" Alpha William—my father—barked, pushing through the crowd. He didn't even look at me. He looked at the stain on his adopted daughter's dress.
"Dad, I didn't—" I started.
"Silence," William commanded. "You have disgraced this family for the last time."
"Someone put something in my drink," I insisted, fighting to keep my eyes open. "Look at me. Look at your actual daughter."
William finally met my gaze. His eyes held nothing but contempt. "My daughter wouldn't act like a feral rogue."
"Take her to the guest quarters on the third floor," William ordered two pack guards. "Lock the door. She will not ruin this banquet."
The guards grabbed my arms, hauling me backward.
"Dad, please," I slurred.
He turned his back on me.
My pulse roared in my ears, drowning out the string quartet. The edges of the room darkened.
Through my blurring vision, I saw Lillian huddled against Tristan's chest. She lowered her head, pretending to hide her face in his jacket.
But as the guards dragged me away, she tilted her chin just enough for me to see.
A cruel, triumphant smile stretched across her lips.
My vision faded to black, the drug finally pulling me under.
But Kael was coming.
And when my husband landed, this pack would burn.