The clink of chains echoed softly in the grand hall.

Beneath a tangle of unkempt hair, a pair of sharp, cold eyes met mine. Paul Shaw stood before me, his gaze piercing, as he extended a glass of wine toward me. The room was watching, and the weight of their stares pressed heavily on my shoulders. To accept or refuse—that was the question.

"Adele?" Weston’s voice cut through the tension, laced with confusion.

I snapped out of my thoughts, realizing I’d hesitated too long. Eyes from every corner of the room were now fixed on me. I opened my mouth to decline, citing my inability to handle alcohol, but Paul didn’t wait. He stepped forward, his broad sleeve brushing against my hand as he pressed the glass into my palm. A cold, quick touch.

My brow furrowed, and then I froze.

A small pill had been slipped into my hand.

Paul withdrew as if nothing had happened, turning away without a word. He knew. The fact that I couldn’t drink wine without a reaction was something only those from my past—and him—were aware of. My heart pounded as I raised the glass to my lips, pretending to sip while discreetly swallowing the familiar red pill. Gradually, the heat creeping over my skin subsided, and the faint rash on my hand faded.

The hall remained alive with music and laughter, the chatter of the pack filling the air. Paul’s thin figure disappeared into the dimming light at the edge of the room, unnoticed by anyone else. I stared after him, my thoughts a tangled mess, before forcing my attention back to the golden cup in my hand.

"Adele, it’s time." Weston’s voice broke through my reverie. "Alpha Archer and Luna Luciana are about to announce our mate bond."

I nodded, swallowing the storm of emotions rising in my chest. Together, we stepped forward and knelt before the Alpha and Luna.

Archer Medina’s voice carried across the room, smooth and commanding, as he declared our mate bond. He spoke as if it were a trivial matter, his tone softened by the wine he’d been drinking. His gaze flicked to the other members of the pack, a lazy smile playing on his lips. "Anyone else here who’s found their mate? I’ll pair you off while I’m at it."

The room erupted in polite laughter, but Makai’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Weston. "Not all of us are as fortunate as Weston. He’s got everything handed to him—even his mate. Must be nice to have your life all figured out."

Weston’s reply was calm, his tone steady. "I’m grateful for Alpha Archer’s generosity. My life is in his hands."

Makai’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. "Still, it’s strange. You’ve always been so loyal, but for something as important as your mark ceremony, you’re insisting on holding it in the southern territory. That’s not your homeland, and it’s not Adele’s either. What’s so special about that place that you’d risk disrespecting our Alpha and Luna?"

The room fell silent, and Luciana Ellis, the former Luna, spoke up. "The southern territory is beautiful, but a mark ceremony is a sacred event. It’s only fitting to hold it here, where the pack can witness it properly."

Weston hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. "Of course, Luna. We’ll hold it here."

My stomach sank, but I kept my expression neutral, bowing my head in submission. Inside, I couldn’t help but feel irritated at Makai. Why did he have to stir up trouble?

Luciana continued, her voice warm as she praised me. "I’ve always felt a connection with Adele. It’s like she’s the daughter I never had. I’d love for her to stay with me for a while before the ceremony."

Archer chuckled, his voice low and amused. "Is she really that special, Mother? Let me take a closer look."

He leaned forward, his presence overwhelming as he gestured for me to approach. The sound of his voice sent a shiver down my spine, and I stepped forward, my heart racing as I prepared to face his scrutiny.

The Alpha’s command cannot be defied.

Weston stood below, his eyes nervously fixed on me.

Oddly, I wasn’t as anxious as I expected to be. Instead, I felt a strange detachment, as if I were walking into a scene I didn’t belong to.

I’d walked toward Archer Medina countless times before—from the southern territories to the northern borders, from the mark ceremony to the marking night.

I’d also walked away from him—from the northern borders back to the heart of the Red Fang Pack territory, from the packhouse to the Alpha’s private chambers.

But never like this. A few steps up the marble staircase, two strangers who had once been so close, now separated by betrayal and fate.

It was a pack gathering, so Archer wasn’t dressed in his full Alpha regalia. Instead, he wore a simple black suit, the silver cufflinks glinting faintly under the chandelier light. His presence, though understated, was as commanding as ever.

I kept my gaze lowered, my hands clasped in front of me, letting him assess me as he pleased.

His eyes swept over me briefly, like he was evaluating a stray dog, before he tossed a silver necklace at me.

“A gift,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion.

I accepted it with both hands, slipping it into my pocket without a second glance. It stayed there until the gathering ended, untouched and forgotten.

The night deepened, and the festivities wound down. Luciana, the former Luna, insisted I stay in the packhouse for the night, and Weston volunteered to escort me.

The halls were long and dimly lit, the moonlight streaming through the windows, casting a pale glow on Weston’s face. He looked... happy.

“Adele,” he said, his voice soft but brimming with excitement, “you’re my good luck charm. The Alpha has never shown me this much favor before. He personally approved our mate bond, and even Luciana seems to like you.”

He only called Archer “Alpha” in public. Without blood ties and lacking the prowess of the other pack members, Weston often found himself on the outskirts of Archer’s inner circle.

When we reached the guest room, Weston’s cheeks were still flushed from the wine and the thrill of the evening. His eyes, bright and earnest, held no trace of deceit.

“You mentioned you had a brother who disappeared in the south. When we get there, I’ll help you find him. I’ll treat you so well, Adele. I’ll make sure he knows you’re in good hands.”

He said that would make him feel like he finally had a family.

I thought of Paul Shaw, my brother, who had abandoned his position in the Blue Moon Pack and turned rogue, fighting against the very system that had betrayed us. He’d once risked everything to save me, dragging my “lifeless” body back to safety.

I awkwardly rubbed the back of my neck, unsure how to respond.

Fortunately, Weston was too drunk to press me for promises. He waved his hand dismissively and turned to leave.

He stumbled slightly, bumping into a low-hanging branch of the wisteria that framed the courtyard. I blinked in surprise as he turned back to me, grinning sheepishly, a faint red mark on his cheek.

He walked backward, his gaze fixed on me, still smiling.

“It’s... it’s fine. Doesn’t hurt. Get some rest, Adele. Tomorrow, I’ll go to the tailor and pick out the perfect dress for our ceremony. You love flowers, right? I’ll have them embroider every kind of bloom onto it!”

Pack ceremonies had their own strict traditions, and there was no room for extravagant designs.

I smiled softly, watching him leave with his light, almost giddy steps. I didn’t bother correcting him.

After all, this was all just a fleeting dream. Why ruin his temporary joy?

I turned away, dismissing the pack members who lingered nearby, and pushed open the door to the guest room. Exhaustion weighed on me as I pulled off my heels, tossed the silver necklace onto the dresser, and shrugged out of my jacket. Everything about the opulence of the packhouse felt suffocating.

I reached for the zipper of my dress, heading toward the bathroom, when I froze.

My eyes flicked to the wall, where the flickering candlelight cast two shadows—one slender, one broader—both motionless, as if they’d been standing there for some time.

I spun around.

A man leaned casually against the window frame, the moonlight illuminating half his face, making his expression unreadable. His voice, rough and laced with malice, was one I’d once feared but now found oddly calm, like the slow, deliberate hiss of a snake emerging from the shadows.

“Adele,” he said, his tone mocking, “how do you like the face I gave you? Does it suit you well?”