Chapter 5

I stood at the threshold of the Grand Ballroom, the heavy oak doors feeling like the gateway to a dimension where I no longer existed.

The air inside was a suffocating blend of expensive lilies and the sharp, metallic tang of Alpha power. Only twenty minutes ago, I was the girl in the white dress who was supposed to be the center of this universe. Now, I was a ghost walking through my own wake.

The music was a soaring, orchestral arrangement that sounded like a mockery as it pulsed through the floorboards. The pack wasn't mourning my rejection. They were celebrating their new queen.

I moved through the crowd like a shadow, invisible once more. The elites didn't even turn their heads. Why would they? An omega who had been discarded by a Prince and handed to a Butcher was a non-entity. I watched from the periphery as the crowd parted, revealing the dais where the sacred union was being toasted.

Julian stood there, looking every bit the golden god he believed himself to be. His hand wasn't just on Camilla’s waist; it was branded there, his fingers digging into the silk of her dress with a possessive heat that made my skin crawl. They had done it. While I was outside being pinned against a car by a monster, they had finalized the bond. The air around them shimmered with the golden residue of a fresh mating, a sight that felt like a hot iron being pressed into my eyes.

Camilla was radiant. She had shed her elite omega reserve and replaced it with the sharp, predatory glow of a Luna. She held a crystal flute of champagne, her laughter ringing out like silver bells over the murmurs of the pack. She looked perfect. She looked like she belonged.

And she was standing exactly where the Moon Goddess had promised I would be.

"You look like you've seen a spirit, Veda," a voice purred.

I didn't have to turn to know she was there. Camilla had detached herself from Julian’s side, gliding toward me with the effortless grace of a shark in silk. She stopped just inches away, her scent clogging my throat.

"I didn't think you’d have the nerve to come back inside," she whispered, her voice a sharp contrast to the soft, innocent smile she wore for the cameras. "Most girls would have crawled into a hole and waited for the end. But you? You always did have a stubborn streak of pride."

"You were my sister," I said, the words feeling like jagged glass. "How long, Camilla? How long were you planning to gut me in front of the world?"

Camilla took a slow, deliberate sip of her champagne, her eyes tracking Julian across the room with a hunger that was purely transactional. "Plan? Oh, Veda. I didn't have to plan a thing. Julian was bored of you before the bond even snapped. He wanted a woman who could hold a room, not a mouse who hides in the corners of it. I simply gave him an out."

"You’re a snake," I hissed, my hands curling into fists at my sides. "You destroyed a fated bond for a crown."

"I upgraded a throne for a man who deserved better," she corrected, leaning in until her lips were brushing my ear. The fake innocence vanished, replaced by a cold, calculating malice. "Don't be so dramatic. You’re not a victim, Veda. You’re a trade-in. And honestly? You should be thanking me."

I pulled back, my chest heaving. "Thanking you? For being handed to Rowan? For being sold like a piece of property to pay a blood debt?"

Camilla’s smile widened, revealing teeth that looked too sharp to be human. She reached out, her fingers catching a loose strand of my dark hair and tucking it behind my ear with mock tenderness.

"Actually, yes. Everyone is talking about it. The Butcher and his Little Lamb. It’s the most exciting thing to happen to this pack in a decade." She chuckled, a low, dark sound. "Think of the power you’ll have, Veda. You’ll be the only woman in history to sleep in the King City High-Rise and wake up with all your limbs intact. Well... hopefully."

"He’s a man, Camilla. Not a god," I said, though my voice lacked the conviction I desperately needed.

"He’s a nightmare wrapped in a human suit, and we both know it," Camilla countered. She stepped closer, her aura flaring just enough to remind me that she was now a Luna, and I was still just a servant. "I heard he’s already set the date. Two weeks? My, he's in a hurry to break you in. I suppose when you spend that much time in the shadows, you get hungry for something soft to tear apart."

She paused, her eyes scanning the room as if looking for the dark Alpha who had claimed me. When she found him, standing by the far doors, her expression flickered with a brief, primal fear before she masked it with cruelty.

"Congratulations, sister," she said, her voice dripping with a poison so potent I could almost taste it. "Truly. To be the bride of Rowan Kingsley is a... unique destiny. Most women would pray for a quick death instead, but I know how much you love to endure."

She reached out, patting my cheek with a condescending rhythm. "I’ll make sure to send a beautiful arrangement to the High-Rise. White lilies, I think. They’re so traditional for funerals."

"I'm not dead yet," I whispered, my voice shaking with a rage that was finally beginning to drown out the sorrow.

Camilla leaned in for one final, devastating whisper, her breath cold against my skin.

"Rowan Kingsley doesn't destroy everything he touches, Veda. That’s a myth. But he has never, in thirty-four years, been known to spare what belongs to him. By the time he's done with you, there won't be enough of Veda Bennett left to bury."

She pulled away, her eyes bright with a sick, twisted glee, and turned back toward the dais. I watched her go, watched her slip her hand back into Julian’s, watched them toast to a future that had been built on my ruins.

I looked across the room. Rowan was still there. He hadn't moved. He was watching the exchange, his face an impenetrable mask of granite, his slate-grey eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that felt like a physical weight. He didn't look like a husband. He didn't look like a savior.

He looked like the inevitable.

The realization hit me then, cold and heavy as a tombstone. The bond with Julian was gone, but a new, darker tether was already beginning to tighten around my throat.

I wasn't free.

I hadn't been saved. I had simply been moved from one cage to another, and this one had glass walls and a master who didn't believe in mercy.