Felicity POV:
Euan Carlisle, Donn's father and the pack's acting Alpha, was the first through the doors. His face, normally a carefully composed mask of authority, was a thundercloud of fury.
Behind him came his mother, Eleonora Carlisle, Donn's grandmother and the Matriarch of the Carlisle line. She leaned on a silver-topped cane carved into the shape of a snarling wolf, but there was nothing frail about her. She was the true power of the family. Her eyes, the color of a winter sky, swept over the scene, missing nothing.
The smoke. The scorched floor. My ruined dress.
And Donn, his clothes disheveled, standing too close to a tearful, equally disheveled Brianda.
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd of guests packed in the doorway. Whispers erupted like wildfire, fingers pointing, judging.
Gwyn Carlisle, Donn's mother, shrieked. It was a raw, animal sound. But she didn't rush to her son. She flew at me.
"You useless little bitch!" she screamed, her nails like claws aimed for my face. "If you had been woman enough to keep your own intended, my son would never have been dragged into this filth!"
Before she could reach me, Euan's arm shot out, grabbing her. "Enough, Gwyn!" he roared.
He turned, and the sound of his hand cracking across Donn's face echoed in the sudden silence.
Donn staggered back, a red handprint blooming on his cheek, his expression one of stunned disbelief.
Brianda, ever the actress, crumpled to the floor. "It wasn't like that!" she sobbed, pointing a trembling finger at me. "Felicity came here looking for a scandal! Donn and I... we are fated mates! She couldn't stand it!"
I remained silent, standing amidst the ashes of my dignity. The soot on my face felt like war paint. I watched them, a spectator at my own execution.
Eleonora's cane struck the marble floor. Crack.
The room fell utterly silent.
Her gaze was not on her disgraced grandson, nor on the weeping girl at his feet. It was on me for a moment, sharp and analytical, before it dropped lower. To Brianda's belly.
Her eyes narrowed, turning from winter sky to chips of ice.
She didn't address Donn. She didn't address Brianda. She looked directly at me.
"Tell me," she commanded, her voice low and raspy with age, but carrying the unquestionable weight of an Alpha's command. "What happened."
I told her. My voice was flat, devoid of emotion. I recounted the giggle, the open door, the sight on the table. I simply stated the facts.
Donn started to babble about being drugged, about a misunderstanding. The lies sounded pathetic even to his own ears, dissolving under the contemptuous stares of the pack members.
"Guards," Euan snarled, his face purple with rage. "Take him to the cells. He will await the family's judgment."
Gwyn wailed, pleading with her mate, but a single, glacial look from Eleonora silenced her.
Two hulking warriors grabbed Donn's arms and dragged him away, his protests dying as the doors closed behind him.
Members of the Tate family, my own family, stepped forward to collect the sobbing Brianda. Her eyes, as they led her away, were filled with pure, unadulterated hatred for me.
The main actors of the drama were gone, but the tension remained, thick and suffocating. Every eye was on me. The jilted bride. The Wolfless fool.
Their pity felt worse than their scorn.
Eleonora watched me, her expression unreadable. There was assessment in her gaze, and perhaps a flicker of surprise at my composure.
"The bonding is canceled," she announced to the room at large. "Leave us."
The guests dispersed, their whispers following them down the hall.
I knew I had to get out of there. If I stayed, I would be a loose end, a source of embarrassment to be quietly swept away. Given some money, sent back to the Tate family that had already thrown me away once.
I turned and walked towards a side door, away from the main hall. I moved through the remaining family members before any of them thought to stop me. They expected the poor, pathetic girl to go lick her wounds in private.
From across the room, I felt Gwyn's hateful stare burning into my back.
As I stepped out of the stifling manor and into the cool evening air of the gardens, I glanced back once. Eleonora stood near the open doors, speaking to a servant in a voice too low for me to catch. A moment later, the servant moved after me, keeping a careful distance. Not close enough to touch me. Close enough to make sure I remained in sight.
They still saw me as a fragile thing.
The wind cut through the thin silk of the gown, raising goosebumps on my arms. I shivered, but not from the cold. I was adrift. The Tates would never take me back now. I had publicly shamed them by exposing Brianda.
My mind raced, churning through options, discarding them one by one. I would not be defeated. I would not be a victim.
I needed an anchor. A shield. A position so unassailable that no one, not Gwyn, not even my own family, could touch me.
An idea sparked in the darkness of my mind. It was insane. It was audacious.
It was perfect.
My gaze lifted, traveling up the stone facade of the main house, past the guest wings, past the family quarters, to the highest tower. To the Alpha's suite. The rooms that had shown almost no sign of life since Ansel Carlisle rode out to war.
Ansel Carlisle. The pack's heroic Alpha, their warrior god, who had vanished on the northern border after an ambush by rogues.
The Alpha everyone had already mourned.
