ELENA
The moment Derek and I stepped onto the gleaming, polished dance floor, I hesitated. I wasn’t sure if it was the tension between us or the sheer arrogance on his face that made my pulse spike.
“Is Elena too afraid to dance with me?” His voice was low, an unmistakable challenge in it.
I should have said no. I should have turned away, left him standing there, but then my eyes flicked to Logan across the room. He looked tense, his body angled as if ready to intervene. The last thing I needed was Logan charging in like some protective savior when I could handle myself just fine.
So I made my decision.
“Afraid?” I scoffed, slipping my hand into Derek’s. “Not a chance.”
His lips curled into something smug, and before I could overthink it, he was leading me to
the middle of the dance floor.
The platform gleamed under the moonlight, its circular design echoing the moon that made us what we were, and the sacred bond of the packs. White and gold floral arrangements lined the perimeter, their petals dusted with an iridescent sheen that reflected the candlelight.
The music swelled, and we moved as if the world had disappeared around us.
Every step was a battle of wills, a silent game of control. I refused to let him lead too much, and he refused to let me dictate the pace. The result was a dance so charged, so magnetic, that the entire assembled mass of Alphas and Lunas seemed to take notice.
I could hear the whispers as we passed the people gathered around the dance floor.
“Fated mates…”
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Derek smirked as I spun away and back, his grip firm, his body moving seamlessly with mine. I had to admit–he was good. Too good. And I hated that I matched him so
effortlessly.
“You’ve been holding out on me,” he murmured, dipping me just low enough to make my pulse hammer.
“So you keep saying,” I shot back, breathless.
His nostrils flared angrily, fingers flexing at my waist.
The song reached its final crescendo, and as I turned sharply on my heel, I felt it—a sudden twist, sharp and unforgiving. My ankle buckled, and before I could catch myself, I was falling. Strong arms wrapped around me instantly, pulling me flush against Derek’s chest.
“Careful,” he murmured, his breath warm against my temple. “Wouldn’t want you hurting yourself.”
I clenched my jaw. Did he do that on purpose? It wouldn’t surprise me. Derek King was many things, but a man who played fair? That wasn’t one of them.
“Let me go,” I muttered, steadying myself.
“If you insist,” he said, though his hands lingered a second longer before releasing me.
I stepped back, ignoring the way my ankle throbbed. The music ended, and scattered applause rippled through the ballroom. I wasn’t sure if it was for us or the orchestra, but either way, I wasn’t staying on the dance floor any longer than necessary.
I turned to leave, but the moment I stepped away, several Alphas approached. Some were
vaguely familiar, others were complete strangers, but they all had the same curiosity in their eyes.
“That was quite the performance,” one of them remarked. “I don’t believe we’ve been
introduced.”
“Elena,” I said cautiously, aware of the attention I was drawing. “And you are?”
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He reached out and took my hand, raising it to his lips. “Alpha Jacob,” he smiled wolfishly, “of the Red Ridge Pack.”
More names followed, more questions–where I was from, what my relationship with Logan was, if it was true I’d rejected Derek. It was overwhelming, the weight of their scrutiny pressing in on me.
And then, of course, Cassandra appeared.
Flanked by her ever–loyal followers, she strutted forward with a look of barely contained
amusement.
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“That was quite the display,” she purred, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Tell me, Elena, was that dance for Derek or Logan?”
I didn’t react, but I saw the way some of the Alphas exchanged glances, their interest shifting to something more judgmental.
“Careful, Cassandra,” I said coolly. “Jealousy isn’t a good look on you.”
Her eyes flashed. “Oh, I’m not jealous. I just find it fascinating how quickly you’ve inserted yourself into the center of attention. First Derek, then Mason, Logan, and now back to Derek? Quite the lineup.”
There it was–the venom, the calculated attempt to turn everyone against me. And it was working. I could see it in their expressions, the way doubt crept into their eyes.
“You don’t belong here,” Cassandra continued. “A rogue like you should know better than to-”
She stopped abruptly. The tenor of the room had shifted. A murmur swept through the` crowd, and th saw them.
My
ply, my heart stuttering in my chest. They were back. My mother, elegant as gracefully through the crowd beside my father, whose expression was
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Cassandra, sensing an opportunity, turned as they approached with a sickeningly sweet
smile. “Alpha, Luna,” she greeted, her voice dripping with false reverence. “I must say, it’s surprising to see you here tonight.”
My father’s gaze flicked past her—to me.
Cassandra followed his line of sight, then turned back with a smug look. “You must be so disappointed,” she continued. “I thought you should know–your son has been keeping quite the secret. A rogue mistress, right under your noses.”
The air above the amphitheater stilled, the breeze dying as if it held its breath, waiting to see what would happen. My father’s expression darkened, his attention snapping back to
Cassandra.
“Are you saying,” he said, his voice dangerously quiet, “that my daughter is my son’s
mistress?”
The color drained from Cassandra’s face. The entire assemblage seemed to collectively inhale, the realization crashing down around them.
My father stepped forward, his presence commanding, his gaze locked onto Cassandra like a predator sizing up its prey.
“Say it again,” he ordered. “Tell me, what exactly is it you’re accusing my daughter of?”
Cassandra’s mouth opened, then closed. She looked to her friends for support, but they had
already begun to step away.
“I-” she stammered. “I didn’t realize-”
My mother’s voice cut through the silence, cool and sharp. “You didn’t realize? You were so quick to condemn, yet you didn’t realize who you were speaking about?”
Cassandra swallowed hard.
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My father’s gaze flicked back to me, something unreadable in his eyes. “Elena,” he said, his
voice softer now. “Come here.”
I hesitated only a moment before stepping forward. The weight of the night, of everything leading to this moment, threatened to crush me, but I kept my head high.
As I reached him, my father took my hands in his, studying me as if trying to imagine a painting on an empty canvas.
“My daughter,” he murmured. His grip tightened, and then he turned, looking out over the crowd. “Let it be known–Elena is no rogue. She is of my blood. My Luna’s heir. And anyone who dares to speak ill of her will answer to me.”
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The room was silent, the realization sinking in. And Cassandra? For once, she had nothing
to say.
I turned on my father’s arm, and the first thing I saw was Derek, his mouth agape. I let my father lead me past him, not sparing him a second glance.
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