[9]

“I still don’t understand why I have to attend this boring welcome party,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended.

Orion lounged in his chair, one leg casually crossed over the other, a glass of red wine swirling lazily in his hand. On the glossy black marble table between us sat a paper bag from an elite boutique—and beside it, a small velvet box containing a silver mask.

“Because they need to know who stands beside me,” he said calmly.

I crossed my arms. “Or because they need to know who’s going to destroy them in court?”

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Both.”

Finally, he looked at me—those hazel eyes, deep and unrelenting, like a storm that never fades. His gaze didn’t just pierce; it dared me to stop hiding. “And since the invitation came from Alaric himself,” he continued, his tone low, almost a whisper, “it would be rude to refuse.”

I froze. The mere mention of that name made the air feel heavier, harder to breathe.

“You do realize the party will be held at SilverFang Mansion, Alpha Orion?” I managed to say, my voice barely steady.

“Of course I know.” He set his glass down and met my eyes directly. “And I know you don’t want to go back there. But sometimes, to conquer something, you have to face it again.”

My fingers tightened around the fabric of my dress, trying to hide the tremor at their tips. “And that dress?” I asked finally, nodding toward the luxury bag on the table.

Orion leaned back in his chair, his voice dropping to a low, velvety murmur. “It’s perfect for tonight’s event. Besides, you’re the woman standing beside NightFang’s Alpha.”

The sound of footsteps interrupted us—Beta Bennedict approaching with his usual measured calm. “Everything is ready, Alpha,” he reported with a respectful bow. “The car leaves in an hour.”

He glanced briefly at me, his expression unreadable. “Lady Cassandra, if you’re not ready, I can—”

“That won’t be necessary,” I cut in quickly. I rose to my feet, meeting Orion’s gaze head-on despite the pounding in my chest. “I’ll go.”

For a moment, the room fell utterly silent. The only thing I felt was Orion’s gaze—sharp yet protective. A faint smile curved his lips, almost like unspoken approval. “A right choice,” he murmured.

***

In one of the guest rooms of Orion’s mansion, a young maid stood behind me, her eyes nervous as she watched me through the large mirror. The midnight-blue gown Orion had chosen hung beside the bed, waiting. But before I could put it on, I had to erase every trace of Cassandra Vale from my reflection.

“The Alpha instructed us to make sure no one recognizes you tonight,” the maid said carefully.

He knows. I gave her a small nod. “Then let’s begin.”

She got to work. My long black hair was tucked away beneath a soft blonde wig, its waves falling naturally over my shoulders. Each strand was styled with precision, misted with a light perfume to mask my scent. Then came the gray contact lenses—erasing the familiar shade of my eyes and replacing it with something distant, foreign. Even I barely recognized myself.

“A little blush and concealer under your eyes,” she murmured gently, “to make you look fresher. And… burgundy lips instead of plain red—it gives your face more depth.”

Her fingers moved quickly but delicately, as if she understood that this face was hiding more than it showed. When she finally stepped back, I stared at my reflection in silence.

The woman in the mirror wasn’t Cassandra Vale anymore—the discarded Luna of SilverFang.

What stared back at me was someone new: cold, mysterious, dangerous.

The maid helped me into the midnight-blue gown. The fabric flowed elegantly across my shoulders before she tied a soft ribbon at the back. Then, she lifted the velvet box containing the silver mask and looked at me in awe.

“Ma’am,” she whispered, “you look like someone who’s… untouchable.”

A faint smile curved my lips. “Maybe because tonight, I’m not meant to be touched.”

She laughed nervously before carefully placing the mask over my face. The silk lining brushed against my skin, leaving only my lips and a small part of my face visible.

To erase my scent completely, I picked up a bottle of NightFang perfume—a blend of deep cedar and faint wolfbane—and sprayed it along my neck and wrists. The fragrance was potent enough to drown out the scent Alaric once knew by heart.

“Make sure no one recognizes me,” I said quietly.

“No one will, Ma’am,” she promised. “They’ll only see the woman every eye turns toward.”

***

That night, the SilverFang mansion gleamed beneath a starlit sky. Crystal chandeliers hung high above, scattering gold light across marble walls. Gentle music filled the air, blending with laughter and the murmurs of conversation among Alphas and Lunas from the four great Packs.

The moment Orion stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted. Every head turned in his direction—not because they recognized him, but because of the quiet, commanding aura he carried.

“Is that… the Alpha of NightFang?” someone whispered.

“He rarely appears in person,” another replied.

“He usually sends his Beta instead.”

Orion walked beside me, his steps calm and steady. I kept my head slightly lowered behind the mask, avoiding every gaze that might remember this face. Yet my heart began to pound the moment the scent of the room hit me—the sharp blend of wood, wine, and… Alaric.

Fenrir! I can feel him, Cass! He’s close!

“I know, Selena,” I whispered inwardly. “Stay calm. I’m trying to forget everything this place reminds me of.”

Selena’s growl thundered inside my head—rage, heartbreak, betrayal, all twisted together in a storm I barely contained. I took a quiet breath, forcing myself to stay composed beside Orion.

“Alpha Orion,” a voice called from the stage. And just like that, my breath stopped.

Alaric Drayden stood there. A gold mask covered part of his face, but I didn’t need to see his full expression to know. I recognized the way he stood, the piercing stillness of his gaze, even the quiet rhythm of his breathing. And despite drowning myself in NightFang perfume, my body remembered his scent—faint but sharp, like a ghost pressing against my skin. Every scar he left in me tore open again.

“It’s an honor to finally have you here,” he said flatly.

That smile… it hadn’t changed. But it wasn’t him who hurt the most to look at tonight—it was the woman standing beside him.

Lyra.

Just as I thought.

“Your invitation was too sweet to refuse,” Orion replied smoothly, his tone calm but edged with amusement. “Besides, I was curious to see what it feels like to stand in the middle of a crowd again. As expected, you’re still the master of grand spectacles, Alpha Alaric.”

Alaric’s eyes narrowed behind his mask. “You’ve always been good with words.”

His smile faltered; he had heard the mockery in Orion’s voice. But before he could say more, Lyra stepped in. “So, you’re the Alpha of NightFang? I almost thought you were just a myth.”

Orion gave her a faint, almost amused smile. “Pleasure to meet you, Luna Lyra. I’m not mistaken, am I?”

Her lips curved sweetly, though her eyes glinted like glass. They slid to me, tracing my hair down to my dress. “And who might this woman be? Your secretary? Or…?”

Soft laughter rippled from the guests behind her. Lyra basked in it, soaking up every ounce of attention. Before I could speak, Orion’s voice cut through the room—calm yet edged with quiet danger.

“Careful, Luna. Your tongue might end this celebration sooner than you’d like.”

Lyra’s smile faltered for a split second before she recovered. “I was only joking. Not every woman can handle a world like ours.”

And then—unexpectedly—it was Alaric who spoke. “But you seem quite comfortable beside an Alpha. What’s your name?”

I lifted my glass, watching the crimson swirl of wine inside. My voice came out steady, colder than I intended. “Names are just labels. But deeds—those are what make someone remembered. Right, Luna Lyra?”

Lyra’s eyes sharpened. “You speak as if you know me.”

“No,” I replied softly, though every word cut clean. “But I recognize the kind of woman you are.”

The air shifted. Conversations dimmed. Eyes turned toward us, sensing the quiet storm brewing between two women who refused to bow. From the corner of my eye, I caught Alaric’s stare—piercing, suspicious, too familiar. My breath hitched as my wolf stirred restlessly beneath my skin. That scent. The same intoxicating scent that once anchored my soul now tore it apart, reopening every wound I thought had healed.

Lyra straightened, her chin tilting arrogantly. “You’re quite bold for someone speaking to the Luna of SilverFang, in our home,” she sneered. “Tell me, what rank do you hold in NightFang that makes you think you’re equal to your Alpha?”

I opened my mouth to answer, but Orion beat me to it. His tone was smooth, almost gentle—but it sliced sharper than any blade.

“She’s not equal to me, Luna,” he said quietly, his voice carrying across the hall. Every head turned. His eyes—calm, dangerous—locked on Lyra until that smug expression finally cracked. “She stands with me.”

A forced laugh escaped Lyra’s lips, brittle and venomous. “Oh, yes,” she drawled. “She certainly does stand beside you, Alpha Orion.”

Then she moved closer. Her steps were slow, deliberate, dripping with malice. And before I could react, her hand reached out grabbing the silk mask that covered part of my face.

“Wearing a mask before your hosts are rather impolite, don’t you think?” she said sweetly, her words a blade hidden in honey.

The string loosened. The mask slipped away. It hit the marble floor with a faint sound that seemed deafening in the sudden silence.

And then—nothing. The entire hall froze.

“I—” I barely managed to speak before a voice I could never forget shattered the stillness.

“Cassandra?”