Chapter 3

I looked at him and almost wanted to laugh.

He treated my boundaries as emotion, my refusal as sulking.

For four years, he’d gotten used to me being quiet, obedient, standing where he needed me. Now I said one simple “no,” and he thought it was a performance.

I didn’t explain, didn’t argue. I only repeated, “I can’t.”

Abbott’s jaw tightened, as if he were holding down anger. “You want to embarrass me?”

I lifted my eyes and met his stare. “I don’t want to embarrass you. I’m answering you.”

A few glances probed in our direction. In a pack, scent was faster than ears—conflict already carried on the air.

Roberta stepped in at once.

She held Abbott’s arm lightly, soothing him like a restless wolf, her voice so soft it sounded innocent. “Abbott, don’t force her. Today… she has feelings too.”

She made it sound like she was speaking for me, while nailing me in place as “the half-blood throwing a fit.”

She turned to me, her smile even gentler. “Savvy, I understand. You need time to accept it. If you don’t come to the wedding, it’s fine—Abbott won’t blame you. When everything settles, you’ll understand he’s doing this for the pack.”

Sentence by sentence, she laid down graceful steps, as if she were the generous one.

And inside her “generosity,” Abbott’s expression eased, as if he’d found the explanation he wanted: I was just making noise. I’d come around on my own.

That was when the banquet hall doors slammed open.

Cold wind poured in. The brazier flames dipped; sparks flew. Several unfamiliar scents crashed into the room—coarse, heavy with blood, sharpened with challenge.

An enemy pack.

They weren’t here to negotiate. They were here to smash the place.

“Congratulations, Abbott!” someone laughed, voice rough. “Heard you’re finally marrying someone who can give you an heir.”

“And the half-blood?” another voice tossed its gaze toward me, grinning with malice. “Still keeping her around as decoration?”

Chaos detonated in an instant. Guards lunged. Tables and chairs overturned. Glass shattered in a long, ringing chain. Someone screamed; someone’s claws snapped out; wolf-instinct flooded the air—fear, attack, frenzy.

One of the enemy wolves, as if it still wasn’t enough, grabbed something from a table and hurled it.

It cut through firelight, arcing toward the ceiling.

“Clang—!”

Metal struck metal, stabbing the eardrums. The chandelier swung violently; dust rained down; broken light scattered like snow.

Then the screams truly erupted.

“The chandelier—!”

People surged for the exits as if hot oil had hit water.

Tables flipped. Wine splashed. Glass broke into a continuous, slicing sound. Wolf scent burst into the air—terror, aggression, confusion.

A force slammed into me from the side. My shoulder and back hit the floor; my vision flipped. The stone was ice-cold. Firelight swam into a blur.

At the same time, Roberta fell not far away. Her skirt was tangled and torn; her hands still instinctively shielded her abdomen. Her face had gone white as paper.

Above us, the chandelier’s shadow grew fast—like a massive black curtain dropping.

I tried to push myself up, but another wave of bodies slammed me down. Someone stepped over me. I heard the dull crunch of pressure against my ribs, my breath knocked out of me.

Abbott moved.

He was only a few steps away. His gaze swept the fallen crowd—

and in that instant, he didn’t even look at me.

He hauled her up in one sharp motion, one arm bracing her head and belly, his whole body shielding her as he pulled her toward safety.

Clean. Fast. Without hesitation.

In that same instant, the chandelier chain finally gave its last brittle snap.

Crash—!

I heard the breaking sound come from my lower body.