Victoria was everywhere.
In the three days leading up to my Come of Age Ceremony, she moved through the Silverfang pack house like she'd never left. Like the years at Ironveil had been a brief vacation rather than an exile. She stood at William's side during the morning pack briefings. She poured his coffee at the Alpha's table in the dining hall. She laughed at his jokes with a brightness that seemed designed to carry across rooms.
I heard about it through Mitchell, who had wolves keeping watch. He'd relay the details to me each evening in his office, his expression tight with barely suppressed fury.
"She introduced herself to the visiting Crescent Ridge Beta as William's future Luna," Mitchell said on the second night. "In front of twelve witnesses. William didn't correct her."
I sat across from him, hands folded in my lap. "Of course he didn't."
"Camille—"
"It's fine," I said. And it was. The ice that had settled into my chest the night I overheard William's study conversation hadn't thawed. It had simply become part of my landscape. "What else?"
Mitchell looked at me for a long moment. Then he continued. "She's been making comments. Loud enough for the right wolves to hear. That William's never looked happier. That the right mate makes all the difference." He paused. "That some pairings are fated while others are just... convenient."
I pressed my thumb against my wrist beneath the desk. Once. "Subtle."
"She wants you to hear it," Mitchell said. "She wants you to know she's won."
"She hasn't won anything," I said quietly. "She's just claimed a prize I don't want anymore."
Mitchell studied me. "You're different."
"I'm clear."
"That's what worries me," he said. But he didn't push further.
---
The night before the ceremony, I couldn't sleep.
I lay in bed at the Stormridge guest house, staring at the ceiling, listening to the sound of wolves on patrol outside. The ceremony was tomorrow. August Morrison would be there. So would William. So would Victoria and half the packs in the region.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand.
Another message from the unknown number. Another photo.
I picked up the phone and looked.
Victoria and William. This time at what looked like a formal pack dinner. Her hand on his arm. His head tilted toward hers like he was listening to something important. The image quality was too good. Too carefully framed.
I set the phone down without responding.
Then I got out of bed and went to the window.
The moon was three days from full. Bright enough to cast long shadows across the training grounds. I could see two wolves on patrol at the far perimeter. Their movements were synchronized. Purposeful.
I wondered what August Morrison looked like. Whether his wolf was black or grey. Whether his voice matched the clinical precision of his four-sentence letter.
I wondered if he knew what he was walking into tomorrow.
My thumb found my wrist again. I pressed down until I could feel my pulse.
Then I released it and went back to bed.
---
I didn't find out until later what happened that same night at the Silverfang pack house.
Mitchell told me the details afterward, pieced together from his intelligence network and a few wolves who'd been uncomfortable enough with what they'd witnessed to report it.
Victoria had gone to William privately. Late. After most of the pack had gone to bed.
She'd brought a tablet with her. Loaded with the photos she'd been sending me. But not just photos anymore—she'd had them formatted for projection. Large-scale display. The kind of thing you'd use at a ceremony to show pack history or honor a fallen wolf.
"I want to make it official," she'd told William, according to the wolf who'd been standing guard outside the Alpha's study. "Tomorrow. At her ceremony. Let everyone see what we are. What we've always been."
William had been drinking. Not heavily, but enough that his judgment was softer than usual. Enough that the mythology he'd built around Victoria—the wronged fated mate, the interrupted love story—felt more real than the reality standing in front of him.
"The technician is already arranged," Victoria had continued. "He'll load the files onto the main screen during the ceremony. Just for a few minutes. Just long enough for everyone to understand."
"Understand what?" William had asked.
"That you're mine," Victoria had said. "That you've always been mine. That she was never anything but a placeholder."
William should have stopped it there. Should have recognized the cruelty. Should have remembered that Camille—whatever else she was—had never deserved public humiliation.
But he didn't.
He told himself it wasn't his plan. That he hadn't asked for this. That if Victoria wanted to establish their bond publicly, that was her choice. Not his responsibility.
He told himself a lot of things that night.
None of them were true.
"All right," he'd said finally. "If that's what you want."
Victoria had smiled. Kissed him. Left with the tablet still in her hands.
The guard outside the study had reported the conversation to his Beta. The Beta had reported it to Mitchell. Mitchell had called me at dawn.
"They're planning something," he'd said without preamble. "For the ceremony. Victoria's arranged some kind of display. Photos. Projected."
I'd been getting dressed. I paused with my hands on the zipper of my dress. "Let her."
"Camille—"
"Let her," I repeated. "I want to see what she thinks she's won."
Mitchell had been quiet for a long moment. "Morrison arrives this morning. He's not coordinating with anyone. Just showing up."
"Good," I said.
I finished zipping the dress. Looked at myself in the mirror. The fabric was deep blue. Simple. Elegant. The kind of thing you wore when you didn't need to prove anything.
I pressed my thumb against my wrist one final time.
Then I went downstairs to meet the car that would take me to my own ceremony.
---
August Morrison arrived at the outskirts of Silverfang territory just after dawn.
I didn't know this yet. I wouldn't know until later, when Dorian Ashk told me himself, his tone carrying a mix of respect and residual tension.
But it happened like this:
Three black vehicles. Lycan guards in formal uniform. Dorian in the lead car beside August, reviewing the ceremony schedule on a tablet.
"You didn't inform her you were coming early," Dorian said carefully. "The announcement was supposed to be coordinated."
August looked out the window at the passing trees. His expression was unreadable. "It will be coordinated."
"On your terms."
"Yes."
Dorian studied his prince. "With full Lycan authority."
"Yes."
"Not as a rehearsed entrance."
August turned his head slightly. Looked at Dorian once. Said nothing.
Dorian did not ask again.
The vehicles continued toward Silverfang territory. Toward the pack house where the ceremony would be held. Toward the moment when everything would change.
Toward me.
