Chapter 4

Selene POV:

I wore a gown the color of moonlight. It shimmered as I walked, clinging to my frame, a perfect picture of the devoted future Luna. I stood by Damien's side at the entrance to the new west wing-my west wing-and greeted the Alphas and Lunas from allied packs, a serene smile fixed on my face.

Inside, the gala was in full swing. The hall I had designed was breathtaking, with soaring ceilings and windows that framed the starlit sky. Damien played his part perfectly, his hand always on the small of my back, his eyes full of what looked like adoration.

He made a grand speech, praising my talent and our "unbreakable bond." Then, he presented me with a gift. It was a ring, a stunning piece with a massive, polished black obsidian at its center.

My smile faltered. Black obsidian was the signature stone of the Silver Creek Pack. Cassandra's pack. He was celebrating me with a symbol of her.

The room applauded, oblivious. I felt a cold dread creeping up my spine.

Then, it happened. A small figure darted through the crowd of legs, making a beeline for the stage. It was Rory.

He launched himself at Damien's legs, clinging to him like a limpet.

"Daddy!" he cried out, his little voice amplified by the hall's acoustics. He pointed a chubby finger directly at me. "Daddy! Mommy said that's the bad woman! The one who wants to take you away from us!"

A collective gasp went through the room. The polite chatter died, replaced by a storm of shocked whispers and frantic Mind-Links. The perfect facade of Alpha Damien and his fated mate was ripped to shreds in front of the entire werewolf elite.

Damien's face was a mask of horror. "Rory, be quiet," he hissed. He tried to use his Alpha's Command, the irresistible power in his voice that compelled obedience. *"Be silent!"*

But the Command had no effect on his own blood. Rory just cried louder.

Cassandra chose that moment to make her entrance, rushing forward with a look of feigned panic. "Oh, my goodness! Rory, sweetie, come to Mommy!" she cooed, trying to pry him off Damien. But the boy wouldn't let go.

My eyes were drawn to the boy's wrist. He was wearing a small bracelet made of braided leather and strung with polished wolf fangs. My breath hitched. I had made that bracelet for Damien two years ago, a protective charm woven with my own hands. Now it was on the wrist of his illegitimate son.

I took a step forward, needing a closer look, needing to be sure. "That bracelet..." I started to say.

My movement was a mistake. It was pure instinct. Damien's inner wolf, primal and thoughtless, saw only a threat moving toward its pup. It didn't see me, its mate. It saw danger.

He shoved me. Hard.

"Stay away from him!" he roared.

I was completely unprepared. I lost my balance, stumbling backward. My head connected with the sharp stone corner of the massive fireplace. A starburst of pain exploded behind my eyes.

But a worse pain, a sickening, tearing sensation, ripped through my abdomen. I looked down. The pure white of my dress was already blooming with a horrifying stain of crimson.

The world began to tilt. The last thing I saw before darkness consumed me was Damien. He wasn't looking at me. He was crouched down, fussing over a tiny scrape on his son's knee, completely oblivious to his mate bleeding out on the floor. He scooped the boy into his arms and, with Cassandra at his side, pushed his way out of the room, leaving me to the scornful, pitying stares of the crowd.