Chapter 3: The presentation

Isla POV

Consuela found me an hour before the presentation, and she was old, much older than any wolf I had ever seen.

Her hair was white, and her face was lined with wrinkles, and her hands were gnarled like tree roots, but her eyes were sharp. When she looked at me, she looked at me like she saw something worth seeing.

"You are the new Luna," she said, and it was not a question.

"I am the new prisoner," I replied.

She gave a small smile that was barely there, but it was the first kindness I had seen since Marco killed that man in my clinic.

"Sometimes those are the same thing," she said, and then she helped me dress.

The clothes they had sent were beautiful. The dress was deep blue, and it fell to my feet. The silver jewelry gleamed in the light, and the necklace sat heavy against my collarbone. I looked in the mirror, and I barely recognized the woman staring back at me.

Consuela brushed my hair while she talked, and her voice was low and careful.

"Mateo has never taken a Luna before," she said. "His mother, Elena, has been running the household since his father died."

She paused, and her hands stopped moving for just a moment.

"The pack is divided," she continued. "The older wolves want a traditional Luna, but the younger wolves see you as a hostage."

I turned to look at her. "The curse," I said. "Every wolf in this territory knows about the Reyes curse. What is it?"

Consuela was silent for a long moment, and her hands trembled slightly as she resumed brushing my hair. When she spoke again, her voice was barely a whisper.

"You will learn soon enough, child, but not from me. Some truths are… too dangerous to speak aloud."

I wanted to push her, and I wanted to demand answers. But I saw the fear in her eyes, and I saw the way her hands shook as she worked. Whatever secrets this place held, they were not hers to tell. I let it go, but only for now.

Before I could ask another question, the door burst open.

"Twelve years, Isla. Twelve years, and you never once sent word."

I knew that voice, and I had dreamed about that voice for years. I had dreamed about it in the dark of my tiny apartment, and I had dreamed about it in the hours before dawn when I let myself remember what it was like to have a family.

I turned, and Camila Rojas stood in the doorway.

For a moment, I did not recognize her. She was not the girl I remembered, and she was not the girl with braids and scraped knees who followed me everywhere. She was not the girl who cried when I left, and who promised she would find me again.

She was a woman now. She was tall and fierce, and her hair was a riot of curls and defiance. Her skin glowed golden in the morning light, and her eyes were blazing with something that looked like fury. It also looked like love, and it looked like twelve years of waiting.

"Camila," I said, and my voice broke.

She crossed the room in three strides, and she pulled me into her arms. She was shaking, and I was shaking too. We stood there holding each other, and for the first time in twelve years, I let myself cry.

"You left me," she whispered into my hair. "You left me, and you never came back."

"I could not," I said. "If I came back, they would..."

"I know," she said. "I know."

She pulled back, and she cupped my face in her hands. She looked at me like she was trying to memorize every line, every scar and every shadow of my face.

"I never believed you killed her," she said. "I never believed it, Isla. I have been waiting twelve years to tell you that."

I grabbed her arm, and I held it tight.

"I came here to find out who killed my mother," I said. "Everything else can wait. The bond does not matter to me, and neither does the curse matter. The marriage too does not matter either. I will not forget, and I will not stop until I have the truth."

Something loosened in my chest, and it was something I did not know I had been carrying.

"I am going to find out who did it," I said. "And I am going to make them pay."

Camila smiled, but it was not a kind smile. It was the smile of a wolf who had been waiting to hunt.

"I can help you with that," she said. "But first, you have to survive this place."

She looked toward the door, and her face grew serious.

"Elena Reyes is not your enemy," she said. "She is your executioner, and she is waiting for you to make a mistake. She poisoned the last two women that Mateo brought here. One ran, and one is buried in the family cemetery. They say she fell down stairs."

My stomach turned to ice. "And Mateo?" I asked. "What is he?"

Camila hesitated. "Mateo is… you know, complicated. He is not cruel for the sake of it, but he is desperate, and desperate wolves bite."

The door opened, and a guard stood in the threshold.

"It is time," he said. "The pack is waiting."

I straightened my spine, and I lifted my chin. I would not let them see me afraid, and I would not give Elena Reyes the satisfaction of watching me crumble. I had survived twelve years of exile, so I could survive one afternoon in a room full of wolves.

I followed the guard to the great hall.

The great hall was enormous, and hundreds of wolves stood in rows. Their eyes followed me as I walked down the aisle between them, and I felt their gazes like knives on my skin. The air was thick with heat and the scent of too many bodies, and my heart hammered against my ribs.

"Do not trip," I told myself. "Do not look down. You are not prey."

At the end of the room, on a raised dais, sat Mateo. He wore black, and his dark hair was pushed back from his face. His golden eyes were fixed on me with an intensity that made my knees weak, and beside him sat a woman I knew without being told was Elena Reyes.

She was beautiful and cold, and her hair was silver, and her cheekbones were sharp. Her eyes were the same gold as her son's, but they were harder and colder. They looked like coins that had been polished too many times.

I walked toward them. My legs were steady, and my hands were steady, but my heart was not.

When I reached the dais, Elena rose from her chair. She walked to me with slow and deliberate steps, and I stood still as she circled me like a wolf circling prey. Her fingers touched my hair, my shoulder, and stopped at my cheek.

"This is the wolf my son has chosen to stand beside him?" she said.

Her voice was soft and sweet, but it was also poisonous. There was no doubt in my mind.

"She looks like her mother," Elena continued. "She is thin and weak and cursed."

She touched my face again, and her fingers were cold against my skin. "We shall see if you last longer than she did."

Something inside me snapped, but I did not show it. I met Elena's eyes, and I did not flinch or look away.

"My mother was murdered by someone who feared her," I said, and my voice carried through the hall. "I am not afraid of you."

The silence that followed was absolute, and I felt the pack holding its breath. I felt the weight of Elena's fury pressing against me like a physical force, but I did not look away.

Then Mateo was there.

His hand closed around my waist, and he pulled me against him. His other hand slid to my throat, but he was not choking me. He was just holding me and claiming me. His thumb pressed against my pulse like he was trying to feel it race.

"This is Isla Torres," he said, and his voice rang through the hall. "She is my chosen Luna. She will bear my heirs, and she will rule beside me."

His cold and commanding eyes swept over the crowd. "Anyone who speaks against her, speaks against me."

He leaned down, and his lips brushed my ear. To the pack, it looked like a lover's whisper, but his words were not gentle.

"You have a clever mouth," he said. "I will enjoy breaking it."

My hand moved to his wrist, and I could have broken his grip. I was stronger than he knew, and I was stronger than anyone knew. But instead, I leaned into him, and my body curved against his.

My voice was a whisper that only he could hear. "You can try."

For a moment, something shifted in his eyes. It looked like surprise or interest, or it might have been respect. Then it was gone, and he released me.

The pack howled their acceptance, and the sound filled the hall. It echoed off the walls, and it vibrated in my chest. I stood beside Mateo with his hand still on my waist, and I smiled.

I smiled like I was happy, and grateful. I smiled like I belonged, but inside, I was counting the faces in the crowd. I was memorizing the exits, and I was building a map of this place brick by brick in my head.

I had come here as a prisoner, but I would not leave as one.