Dorian paused at the den's threshold, one hand resting on the carved blackwood frame. "What did you throw away?"
I didn't even look at him.
"Just some garbage I should've gotten rid of long ago."
He didn't seem to care. As if suddenly remembering something, he added casually, "I heard Mira accidentally damaged the ceremony gown. But don't worry. I've asked the den-weaver to rush a new one. It'll be ready in time for the Mating Ceremony."
He slung his coat over one shoulder, the lining catching the dim light. The cold ash and tarnished copper of his scent drifted past me, and something in my chest that should have warmed at it stayed dead and quiet.
"Remember, tomorrow night's the gathering at the estate. Don't be late. I've got pack business, so I'm not coming back to the den tonight."
He took his keys and left. Not once did he glance at the overflowing refuse bin behind me, filled with everything he'd ever given me.
The next night, 8:00 PM.
I arrived at the Ravenmoor Pack's grand lodge alone.
The moment I stepped into the moonlit gardens, I saw them.
Dorian and Mira.
Dressed in matching ceremonial finery, bathed in warm lantern light like the Alpha and Luna already crowned. The high bloodlines of the Five Packs milled about them, goblets of moonwine glinting like scattered ice in the evening air.
Vesper Ravenmoor's face twisted the moment she saw me. Her smile dropped like a cracked mask. She wore the silver collar-piece Mira had gifted her, a gaudy thing dripping with moonstones that screamed new blood trying to buy old prestige. Her eyes ran over me with undisguised disdain, cold orchid and bitter frost sharpening on the air, cataloging every flaw, every perceived slight against her precious bloodline.
"You're an hour late. No surprise. No manners at all, just like your mother the thief."
But Dorian told me the gathering started at eight.
I clenched my fists, my nails biting into my palms. Something deep beneath my skin pressed up, low and hurting, and I forced it back down.
A long time ago, I'd mentioned in passing that Mira's mother had been a kept she-wolf, one who'd spread herself for a mated male. The next day, Vesper Ravenmoor's missing jewels "miraculously" appeared beneath my mother's pillow.
Dorian knew my mother had been framed.
He never defended me. Not once.
But now I didn't grovel. I didn't drop my gaze or bow my head like a good little den-keeper's daughter should. I looked straight into Vesper Ravenmoor's cold eyes, then right at Mira's smug little face.
"I'm not here to be insulted," I said, my voice cutting through the garden's polite murmur like a blade through silk. Then I looked Mira dead in the eye. "My mother was not a thief. She didn't raise me to seduce males like some women raise their daughters."
The words had barely left my mouth when a vicious slap exploded across my cheek.
My ears rang. My body hit the ground hard, the manicured grass cold and damp beneath my palms.
The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.
Dorian stood over me, expression cold and condescending, the face of a male raised to believe his word was law, his judgment absolute. His Alpha aura rolled off him, thickening the air, and every lower wolf in that garden felt the pressure of it and looked away.
"You spread rumors about her! Don't you know it makes her suffer? How long are you gonna keep this going? Do you want her to throw herself off the cliffs?"
I pushed myself up, my face burning with rage.
"She suffered? She?!" I barked out a laugh, bitter and broken, the sound of something inside me finally snapping. "She suffered from her own stupid choices! And you, you know exactly what she did. My mother is dead! I lost everything and you're just going to stand there and let her play the victim?!"
The whispers started, quiet at first, like a ripple across still water, then louder as the gathered wolves leaned in. In this world, gossip was currency, and I'd just handed them a fortune.
Dorian's jaw clenched tight, a muscle ticking beneath his skin.
"Leave," he growled under his breath, the sound low in his chest but carrying the full weight of a threat. "Go calm yourself down. You've embarrassed yourself enough in front of the guests."
The garden buzzed with high-blood chatter, the connected wolves of the Five Packs, all watching the spectacle with barely concealed delight.
Magnus and Vesper Ravenmoor quickly stepped in with goblets of moonwine, smiling stiffly like puppet masters smoothing over a minor disruption.
"Let's not ruin the evening. Come, everyone, drink up!"
Guests swarmed Dorian and Mira with congratulations.
"Cheers to the happy pair!"
"Congratulations to the future Alpha and Luna, such a perfect match!"
Dorian had always said he wanted our arrangement to be a "surprise."
He never told a soul about us.
And now?
He smiled like a gentleman, standing next to Mira like she'd always been the promised mate, like the life-debt his bloodline owed my mother under the Moon had never existed.
He didn't even try to explain.
She clung to his arm like she belonged there, her fingers curled possessively around his sleeve, her overripe jasmine and sugared decay winding through the cleaner scent of him.
Under the glittering lanterns, they looked like a picture-perfect couple, the heir apparent and his beautiful intended, a union that would strengthen the Ravenmoor name for generations.
While I stood there like a wet stain on white fur.
I let out a breathless, bitter laugh and turned to go, but a hand blocked my way.
Mira.
She smiled like she'd already won, like she'd been winning since the day she first spread herself for my intended mate.
"Leaving so soon?" she cooed, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "But I haven't told you how that old woman died."
My heart stopped.
The garden noise faded to a dull roar, replaced by the thundering of my own pulse. Somewhere beneath my ribs my wolf went utterly still, the way prey goes still when it scents the kill.
"What did you just say?"
She leaned in close, her scent cloying and thick, her voice low enough that only I could hear, a whisper meant for the damned.
"I told her if she wanted the money back, she'd have to film herself doing something… special. You know, the kind males pay for." She grinned, her teeth white and sharp in the lantern light. "But she got all high and mighty. She refused and even had the nerve to insult me and my mom."
A twisted laugh escaped her painted lips.
"So I gave her what she deserved."
She sighed dramatically, as if recounting a minor inconvenience rather than a murder.
"Did you know? She barely made it through fifty males before she collapsed. Still had the nerve to clutch my leg and beg, beg me to return the money to her 'sweet daughter.'"
She made a clicking sound with her tongue, savoring the memory like aged moonwine.
"Pathetic, really."
