Anais POV
The walk to the Great Hall felt like a march to the gallows. Two warriors flanked me, their grips firm but not bruising, guiding me through corridors that whispered of wealth and power I couldn't comprehend. I was acutely aware of my appearance—faded jeans that were fraying at the hems and a white t-shirt that had seen better days. I was a stain on their pristine tapestry.
When the massive oak doors swung open, the silence that rushed out to meet me was heavier than any noise.
The Great Hall was a cavernous space of stone and velvet, illuminated by iron chandeliers that cast long, dancing shadows. At the far end, seated on a throne carved from dark wood and lined with fur, sat Dimitri. He looked like a king from the old stories—lethal, beautiful, and utterly cold.
As I stepped onto the plush runner, the air in the room shifted. Hundreds of eyes landed on me. I could smell their judgment—a sharp, metallic tang that coated the back of my throat.
"What is that?!"
The shriek tore through the silence. A woman with perfectly coiffed blonde hair and diamonds dripping from her neck stepped forward near the dais. Beatrice. Her face was twisted in a mask of pure revulsion.
She pointed a manicured finger at me, trembling with rage. "You expect us to accept this... this wolfless trash as our Luna?"
A ripple of murmurs went through the crowd. I shrank in on myself, wishing the floor would open up and swallow me whole.
"Well done, brother," a voice sneered from beside Beatrice. A young man who looked like a softer, crueler version of Dimitri stepped forward. Bryson. His eyes raked over my body, lingering on my chest and legs with a slimy, predatory hunger that made my skin crawl. "Did you find her in a dumpster behind the Omega slums? She certainly smells like it."
Laughter, sharp and cruel, bubbled up from the gathered elite. Even a girl standing near them—Cassidy, I assumed—wrinkled her nose, looking at me with profound disappointment.
I looked at Dimitri. I didn't know why, but a foolish part of me hoped he would stop this. He was the Alpha. He had claimed me.
But he sat frozen on his throne, his ice-blue eyes staring right through me. He didn't look angry. He didn't look protective. He looked bored. To him, I wasn't a person being flayed alive by his family's cruelty; I was a prop. A piece of paper to be stamped and filed away to secure his crown.
The realization hit me like a physical blow. I was alone.
Tears pricked my eyes, hot and humiliating. I couldn't breathe. The scent of their disdain was suffocating. Before I could think, my body moved. I spun on my heel and ran.
"Hey!" someone shouted, but I didn't stop.
I sprinted back the way we came, my bare feet slapping against the cold stone. I burst through the main doors and into the night air, gasping for oxygen. The gravel of the driveway bit into my soles, but I pushed toward the main gate, toward freedom.
I was almost there when a wall of muscle materialized in front of me.
I skidded to a halt, my chest heaving. It was the man from the office—Davon. He didn't look malicious, but he stood with the immovable solidity of a mountain.
"I'm sorry, Luna," he said, his voice low and regretful. "My Alpha's orders are that you are not to leave the grounds."
"Don't call me that!" I choked out, backing away. "I'm not your Luna. I'm nobody!"
"You are what he says you are."
"Get in the car."
The voice came from behind me, dark and vibrating with power. I spun around to find Dimitri standing by the open door of the black armored SUV. I hadn't even heard him approach. The scent of blizzard and cedar enveloped me, instantly calming my racing heart against my will. I hated it. I hated that my body responded to him while my mind screamed in terror.
"Please," I whispered, my voice cracking. "I just want to go home. My mother... she'll be worried sick. She doesn't know where I am."
Dimitri stared down at me. For a second, the ice in his eyes seemed to crack. His jaw tightened, a muscle feathering in his cheek. He looked at my tear-streaked face, then at my trembling hands.
He stepped closer, invading my personal space until all I could see was him. He reached out, his hand wrapping around the back of my neck. The Physical Surge was instantaneous—a jolt of static electricity that made my knees weak. He wasn't hurting me, but the weight of his hand was a heavy claim.
"You can go," he said, his voice a rough growl that vibrated in my chest.
My eyes widened. "I... I can?"
"You have until sunrise." His grip tightened slightly, his thumb brushing the pulse point behind my ear. "Go check on your mother. Pack your things. Say your goodbyes."
He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. "But if you are not back on my territory by the time the sun clears the horizon, I will hunt you down myself. And trust me, Anais... you will not enjoy the chase."
He released me abruptly and stepped back, his face once again a mask of indifference. "Driver. Take her."
I scrambled into the backseat of the SUV, the door slamming shut like the lid of a coffin. As the car pulled away, I watched him standing in the driveway, a dark silhouette against the moonlight. I had been given a few hours of freedom, but the invisible leash around my neck had only been lengthened, not cut.
