Chapter 5

The night before my mating ceremony, the Blackwoods threw a gathering fit for royalty.

Moonlight spilled through the estate's glass ceiling. Imported wine flowed like blood. Three hundred wolves in formal black filled the ancestral hall like a murder of crows gathering for a feast.

I wore white, of course. A backless gown that Damon had chosen himself. He liked showing me off—his pretty Thornwood bride, his trophy, his ticket to everything he wanted.

"You look stunning, little wolf." He kissed my cheek as the crowd watched. His lips lingered half a second too long, warm and possessive against my skin. "Tomorrow, you'll finally be mine."

Finally be yours.

I smiled and leaned into him, letting my body soften against his chest the way he liked. "I can't wait."

His hand slid to the small of my back, fingers pressing into the bare skin where the dress dipped low. His wolf brushed against mine through the bond—heavy, claiming. Once, that touch would have made my pulse race. Now I felt nothing but the cold calculation of a male marking his territory.

The room was a who's who of shifter power dressed in designer silk. Representatives from all four packs had come to witness the alliance. Council elders mingled with Alpha heirs. A territory judge clinked glasses with a Crimson Vale enforcer.

This was power. This was the world I'd been born into.

And tomorrow, I would tear it apart.

That's when Vivian made her entrance.

She wore gold. Sheer, clinging, slit to the top of her thigh—more radiant than any ceremonial gown I'd ever wear. She cut through the crowd toward us, wine glass catching the light like a blade.

"Dear Seraphina, congratulations." Her voice dripped honey, pitched loud enough for nearby wolves to hear. "You're so patient. Damon told me how much you've changed for him—wearing only white, never leaving territory. How... devoted." Her smile sharpened. "I do hope tomorrow's ceremony won't disappoint you."

Her eyes were pure malice. But all I saw was something pathetic.

Damon's arm tightened around my shoulders. "Vivian was particularly supportive during my recovery. I invited her to show my gratitude."

I smiled and tilted my head, my voice soft as a lover's whisper. "Darling, you're always so thoughtful. Even to friends who were once... especially close to you."

Damon smiled, pleased. Completely missing the blade hidden in silk.

Males like him only heard what they wanted to hear.

In the gilded powder room, Vivian finally revealed her true face.

She watched me through the mirror, her voice dropped dangerously low: "Prague wasn't enough to teach you your place?" Her tone turned intimate. Victorious. "He's been mine for years. His wolf chose me long before you. To him, you're nothing but a naive little princess playing mate. Why are you still fighting?"

I capped my lipstick. Slowly. Let the silence stretch until I saw her jaw tighten.

Then I turned to face her fully.

"I never saw this as a competition." My voice was calm. Flat. "A wolf who betrays this easily isn't a prize worth winning. I'm not leaving because he chose you." I held her gaze. "I'm leaving because I'm choosing myself."

The triumph on her face cracked.

Something shifted behind her eyes—the first fracture in that perfect painted mask.

I turned and walked out.

In the mirror's reflection, I caught one last glimpse: Vivian, frozen. Staring at her own reflection like she'd never seen it before.

Good. Get used to that feeling.

Tomorrow, it gets worse.

The gathering dragged on. Toasts and laughter and lies layered thick as the rare meat on silver platters.

Damon kept me close all night—his hand possessive on my waist, his thumb tracing slow circles against my hip as he introduced me to betas and enforcers.

"My beautiful mate," he told anyone who'd listen. "The jewel of Thornwood."

I smiled until my face ached.

Finally, the guests began to leave.

I excused myself and retreated to the guest wing—tradition demanded the bonded pair sleep apart the night before the ceremony, letting their wolves hunger for reunion.

The door clicked shut. Silence wrapped around me like a second skin.

My phone buzzed. Reid.

Pack sentries in position. Anything goes wrong tomorrow, I'll have you out before the moon rises.

I typed back: Nothing will go wrong.

Be careful, little sister.

I set the phone down and walked to the closet.

My ceremonial gown hung there like a ghost—white silk, hand-stitched with silver thread, a sweeping train designed to pool at the altar like a surrendering flag.

I reached past it.

Behind the gown, hidden in a garment bag, was what I'd actually wear when I walked out of that ceremony.

Black. Thornwood black.

My fingers brushed the fabric—cool, smooth, familiar. Tomorrow, I would shed this white skin like a serpent. Tomorrow, they would see who I really was.

I turned to the mirror. The she-wolf staring back was pale, composed, dressed in bridal white.

For the last time.

"Last night in costume," I whispered. "Last night as his fool."

I reached up and unclasped my mother's earrings. The moonstones caught the light—cold fire against my palm.

Tomorrow, I would put them on again.

And then I would make Damon Blackwood pay for every lie he'd ever told me.