Chapter 7
Selena’s POV
The mate bond tugs at my chest like a chain around my heart as Ronan leads me back into the celebration, his hand possessively placed at the small of my back. I let my shoulders curve inward slightly, my steps measured and delicate. The perfect Luna-to-be.
“Smile,” he whispers against my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “This is your night too.”
I oblige, letting my lips curve upward while keeping my eyes appropriately downcast. The pack watches us with hungry eyes, desperate for the fairy tale, their future Alpha and his destined mate, the perfect union blessed by the Moon Goddess herself.
They’re all such fools, my wolf growls, ancient and fierce behind my careful mask.
Patience, I remind her. We’re playing the long game.
I hate pretending to be weak.
I know. But weakness is our greatest weapon right now.
The grand hall sparkles with decorative lights, champagne flows freely, and music pulses through the air.
Pack members part before us like waves, bowing their heads in deference to Ronan while offering me curious, assessing glances.
I know what they see, the quiet, human-passing girl who somehow caught their golden prince’s eye.
Little do they know what lurks beneath my skin.
“Alpha Jackson,” Ronan calls out, waving to a visiting pack leader. “Come meet my mate.”
The older Alpha approaches, his eyes sharp and calculating as they sweep over me. “So this is the lucky girl.” He takes my hand, his grip firm. “Quite... delicate, isn’t she?”
Ronan’s arm tightens around my waist. “Don’t let appearances fool you. The Moon Goddess chose well.”
I dip my head respectfully. “It’s an honor, Alpha Jackson.”
“She speaks!” He laughs, the sound booming across the space. “And with such manners. Your father would be proud, girl.”
The mention of my father stings, but I keep my smile firmly in place. “You knew him?”
“Fought alongside him once. Good man. Fierce warrior.” His eyes narrow slightly. “Surprising that his daughter turned out so... mild.”
Before I can respond, Ronan cuts in. “She’s perfect as she is. Wouldn’t you agree?”
The challenge in his voice is clear, agree or face consequences. Alpha Jackson nods, backing down immediately. “Of course. A gentle Luna balances a strong Alpha.”
As they fall into discussion about territory disputes, I let my gaze wander the room, cataloging faces, noting alliances, watching who stands with whom. Information is power, and I’m collecting every scrap I can.
Then I see her.
Candice glides through the crowd in a crimson dress that hugs every curve, her golden hair cascading down her back. She laughs at something another pack member says, tossing her head back to expose the elegant line of her throat. Beautiful. Deadly. A viper in silk.
I want to tear her throat out, my wolf snarls.
Soon, I promise. But first, we make her expose herself.
Ronan’s hand squeezes my waist, drawing my attention back. “I need to speak with the council members. Stay here and... mingle.” His eyes hold a warning. “Be charming but modest. Remember who you represent now.”
“Of course, my mate,” I murmur, the words like acid on my tongue.
He presses a possessive kiss to my forehead before striding away, immediately surrounded by admirers and sycophants. I track his movement across the room, noting who he speaks to, who he avoids, who leans in too eagerly.
“Champagne?” A server offers me a flute, which I accept with a grateful smile.
“Thank you,” I say, then add quietly, “Justin, isn’t it? You work security rotations too, don’t you?”
The young wolf looks surprised that I know his name. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m trying to learn everyone,” I explain with a shy smile. “Ronan’s schedule keeps him so busy. Does he always work such long hours? I barely see him some days.”
Justin relaxes slightly. “The Alpha heir has many responsibilities. Tuesday and Thursday evenings he oversees border patrols personally. Mondays are council meetings until late.”
“And Wednesdays?” I ask innocently.
“Private training sessions,” he replies. “In the east wing facility. Very strict about not being disturbed then.”
I nod, filing away this information. “How thoughtful of him to be so dedicated.”
Justin beams, pleased to have helped the future Luna. As he moves away, I take a small sip of champagne, my mind working. Wednesday private sessions that cannot be disturbed. Interesting.
A light touch on my arm makes me turn.
“There you are!” Candice exclaims, pulling me into a hug that lasts a beat too long. “The woman of the hour!”
I return her embrace, noting how she positions herself to be visible to as many people as possible. Always performing.
“Candice,” I say warmly, “you look stunning tonight.”
“Oh, this old thing?” She laughs, smoothing down her obviously new dress. “Nothing compared to the glow of a newly bonded mate.” Her eyes flick to where Ronan stands across the room. “You must be over the moon.”
“It’s overwhelming,” I admit, letting vulnerability show in my voice. “Everything’s happening so fast.”
Her eyes light up at my apparent weakness. “Oh, sweetheart.” She takes my hands in hers. “That’s why you need friends who understand the pressure. I’ve grown up in pack politics, I can help you navigate all this.”
“Would you?” I widen my eyes hopefully. “Ronan expects so much, and I don’t want to disappoint him.”
“Of course!” She squeezes my hands. “What are friends for? In fact, why don’t we have lunch tomorrow? I can give you all the insider tips about being the perfect Luna.”
The perfect doormat, she means, my wolf sneers.
“That would be wonderful,” I say, squeezing back. “I need all the help I can get.”
She leans closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Between us girls, Ronan can be... demanding. He has very specific expectations for his mate.”
“Has he talked about me with you?” I ask, injecting just the right amount of insecurity.
“We’ve been friends forever,” she says with a casual wave of her hand. “He tells me everything.”
“Everything?” I repeat, allowing my voice to waver slightly.
Her smile turns predatory for just a moment before smoothing back into concerned friend. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you know exactly what he wants.”
Over her shoulder, I catch sight of Ronan watching us, his expression unreadable. When Candice notices my gaze, she turns and waves at him, her body language shifting subtly, shoulders back, posture straightening, a private smile playing on her lips.
He gives her a slight nod before turning back to his conversation.
See that? my wolf growls. The familiarity. The secret signals.
I see everything, I assure her.
“I should mingle more,” I tell Candice, stepping back. “Ronan would want me to make a good impression.”
“Of course.” She touches my arm again. “Tomorrow, noon? My quarters?”
“I’ll be there,” I promise with a grateful smile.
As she sashays away, I move through the crowd, pausing to speak with key pack members, building my mental map of alliances and rivalries. I note which hallways lead to Ronan’s office, which corridors Candice frequents, which security cameras are already in place and where the blind spots are.
An hour later, I slip away to the restroom, using the moment of privacy to retrieve the tiny camera I’d hidden in my clutch over the last two months.
Quick, practiced movements secure it above the mirror, angled to capture the entire room without being obvious.
Women talk, especially when they think no one’s listening.
I’ve already placed three others, one near Ronan’s office, one in the east wing corridor where his “private training” takes place, and one overlooking the back entrance Candice uses when she thinks no one is watching.
By the time I return to the celebration, my absence has been noted. Ronan’s eyes track me across the room, narrowed slightly in suspicion. I offer him a shy smile, playing my part.
The evening wears on, a carefully orchestrated dance of politics and pretense. I perform flawlessly, saying little, observing much, gathering threads that will eventually form the noose for those who betrayed me.
Then it happens.
The pain hits without warning, a white-hot knife between my ribs, twisting savagely. My breath locks in my throat, my body going rigid as fire races through the mate bond. The champagne flute slips from my suddenly numb fingers, shattering on the marble floor.
He’s with her, my wolf snarls, thrashing against my control. RIGHT NOW.
I press my hand to my chest, feeling my heart hammering wildly beneath my palm. The pain radiates outward, stealing my breath, turning my vision hazy at the edges. Every instinct screams for me to find him, to stop whatever is happening.
No, I force myself to think through the agony. This is information. Use it.
I straighten my spine through sheer will, forcing air into my lungs one shallow breath at a time. Around me, concerned murmurs rise as pack members notice my distress.
“Are you all right, Miss Selena?”
“Someone get her some water!”
“Where’s Ronan?”
Where indeed.
I scan the room through the haze of pain. Ronan is gone. And so is Candice.
Control, my wolf urges, her ancient wisdom steadying me. Pain is temporary. Revenge is forever.
I take one step, then another, moving not toward the exit where my mate has disappeared, but across the room to where Rylan stands watching me, his expression darkening as he reads my distress.
By the time I reach him, my legs are trembling, the bond pain slicing deeper with every breath. He moves forward immediately, catching my elbow to steady me.
“Selena,” he says, his voice low and urgent. “What’s happening?”
“The bond,” I manage through clenched teeth, unable to elaborate further.
Understanding dawns in his eyes, followed by a flash of rage so fierce it momentarily transforms his features.
His hand slides from my elbow to my waist, supporting more of my weight, and the moment his skin touches mine, the pain.
.. shifts. Doesn’t disappear, but changes somehow, becoming more manageable.
I look up at him, startled. “How…“
“Not here,” he murmurs, his eyes scanning the room. “Too many eyes.”
With practiced efficiency, he guides me toward the exit, his body angled to shield me from curious onlookers. “I’m taking her to Dr. Merrick,” he announces to those nearby, his tone brooking no argument.
The walk to the pack doctor’s office is a blur of pain and Rylan’s steady presence. His hand never leaves my waist, that strange relief flowing from his touch keeping me upright and moving.
Dr. Merrick looks up from his desk as we enter, his expression shifting quickly from annoyance to concern. “What happened?”
Dr. Merrick guides me to the examination table, his fingers pressing gently against my wrist to check my pulse. His eyes widen slightly at whatever he finds there. He reaches for a small amber bottle on a high shelf, then hesitates, glancing at Rylan before turning back to me.
“These are for mates who’ve been... betrayed,” he says, voice dropping to barely above a whisper.
The shadow in the doorway falls across the floor. Ronan…