The Wedding's Still On. You're Still Not Invited.

I heard the sharp, unmistakable tap of designer heels echoing down the ship’s staircase, each step a deliberate rhythm of vanity wrapped in malice, followed by a soft knock against the thick mahogany of my cabin door—a knock too sweet to be sincere.

“Lyra?” Nina’s voice chimed, all sugary notes and faux concern, like a poisoned melody meant to charm prey before the kill.

I didn’t respond. I didn’t even move. But that never stopped her.

The door creaked open anyway, and in she came—waltzing into my space like she owned the entire yacht, like the air belonged to her, like I hadn’t just watched her devour my mate with frosting on her lips. She carried a Black Forest cake balanced in her hands, a single blood-red candle stabbed into the center like a mockery of celebration. Her makeup was flawless, of course—glossy lips that gleamed like wet fangs, her lashes long enough to sweep lies into the air—but the smear of whipped cream on her cheek was no accident. Nina Frost never wore anything by mistake.

“Lyra, will you come upstairs?” she asked sweetly, her head tilted just so, eyes wide like a docile doe from an old fairy tale. “Everyone’s asking about you.”

But I had seen her true face too many times—her smile that never reached her eyes, the calculating glint that sparked when no one else was looking. She may have been born from the same pack as I, but she was raised to manipulate, to hunt affection like a weapon.

“No,” I said, my voice flat as stone. “I have work.”

For a heartbeat, something flickered in her eyes. Not sadness—Nina didn’t feel like that. No, it was something darker. Calculation. She adjusted her grip on the cake, feigning composure.

“You don’t like me,” she murmured, playing the broken doll act like she’d done with every male in our pack’s inner circle. “That’s why you always avoid me. You think I’m the enemy.”

I turned my head at last, not to show weakness but to give her the full weight of my stare. “Are we doing this again?”

Her lashes fluttered rapidly, her lower lip trembling as if on cue. She had rehearsed this performance in front of mirrors, I was sure. Had probably decided hours ago which tear to drop first, which lie to tell second. It was always the same pattern. With Damon. With Malric. With every male she ever wanted under her heel.

“I’m not in the mood, Nina,” I said sharply, standing to my full height. “Save the performance for your fan club.”

I moved past her toward the door—but before I could reach it, she staggered backward, as if shoved by a ghost, her gasp high and sharp as the cake slipped from her fingers and smashed across her chest in a messy splatter of chocolate and whipped cream. The red candle snapped in two, falling like a broken promise between her feet.

And right on cue, I heard them.

Alpha Damon and his brother—beta Malric, both alphas-in-training, both stupidly loyal to the wrong girl—appeared at the top of the staircase like summoned hounds, eyes wide and muscles tense, ready to play their part in the lie she wove.

“Nina!” Alpha Damon’s voice cracked with forced panic. “What the hell happened?”

“She shoved me,” Nina whimpered, cradling the ruined cake like it was a mortal wound. “I was just trying to be kind. She… she pushed it into me. I was trying to make peace.”

I stared at her, disbelief curdling in my throat like bile. “What?”

“She what?” Malric snarled, his golden eyes blazing with offense as he stepped forward, muscles taut beneath his silk shirt. “Lyra, what the hell is wrong with you?”

“I didn’t touch her!” I snapped, fury rising in my chest like a storm, my wolf pacing beneath my skin. “She dropped it herself! You all saw nothing, and yet you believe this garbage without a blink?”

But Alpha Damon wasn’t looking at me. He was too busy brushing cream off Nina’s collarbone with trembling hands, his eyes dark and unreadable.

“Nina, does it hurt?” he whispered like she had been struck by lightning instead of dessert.

She sniffled and leaned into his embrace, soaking in every second of his attention like it was sacred. “Just a little. I shouldn’t have come. She hates me now.”

“You were her best friend,” Beta Malric said, his glare slicing into me like a dagger. “You were like sisters. She always said you were the only real friend she had—and this is how you repay her? Because you're jealous?”

That word—jealous—cracked against my bones like lightning. I let out a breathless, bitter laugh, low and dangerous. “You two really belong in a soap opera. All that’s missing is a coma and a fake baby.”

Alpha Damon turned toward me, his jaw clenched so tight I could see the twitch in his cheek. “You’re going to apologize.”

My arms folded across my chest, my gaze locked on him. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said, each word laced with venom and control. “Apologize to Nina. Now.”

The silence that followed was cold and sharp, like a blade dragged across ice.

“No,” I said simply, but my tone carried the full weight of my wolf.

He took a step closer, fury blazing in his aura. “Then forget the bond we promised. If you don’t apologize by tomorrow, I’m calling off the engagement. No Luna title. No future at my side. We’re done.”

Behind him, Malric scoffed. “You still want to marry her after this? Her true colors are showing. What a damn waste. If I were you, I’d never mate a wolf like her.”

I tilted my head slowly, my eyes gleaming with lethal calm. “That’s why no one ever would.”

His cheeks flushed with anger. Alpha Damon’s fists clenched. And Nina… oh, she smiled. Radiant in the ruin she had created.

I turned toward the railing to leave, my breath shaking from the effort of holding back my shift—my claws aching beneath skin, my fangs itching to pierce flesh—when Damon grabbed my wrist.

I didn’t even have time to shift.

His strength was brutal, wild, the raw strength of an alpha wolf unbound—and in the next breath, he shoved me over the railing.

The sea welcomed me like a coffin.

The cold hit like blades, cutting through muscle and memory, turning breath to shards of ice. I thrashed beneath the surface, my mouth open in a silent scream, my lungs desperate for air as saltwater poured in like punishment.

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t shift. Couldn’t scream. My wolf howled in my soul, but I was drowning.

“Lyra?!” Nina’s voice rang from above, dramatic and clear. “Somebody help—she doesn’t know how to swim!”

She knew. They all did.

“Let her be,” Alpha Damon’s voice followed, cold and godless. “Maybe she’ll learn her place now.”

I sank.

Sank beneath betrayal. Sank beneath lies. Sank beneath the weight of everything I had once believed in.

And just as my vision began to fade, just as the water closed in like a tomb, I felt it—a hand, strong and unfamiliar, slicing through the sea like salvation.

Arms wrapped around my waist. A presence, wild and ancient, gripped me with power that didn’t belong to this world.

A voice, deep and commanding, echoed in my fading consciousness.

“I’ve got you.”

My lungs convulsed as I shattered through the surface, coughing and choking as if the sea itself had tried to claim my soul. Saltwater spewed from my mouth in violent bursts, each breath a war between death and defiance. My limbs thrashed, half-conscious and trembling, instinct taking over where reason had drowned.