Chapter 4: Shift

The sun had dipped below the horizon. As night settled over the packlands, the atmosphere changed. The packhouse pulsed with life.

The hall was filled with families of high rank, and the atmosphere was heavy with their presence. Most of the people gathered were Alphas and Lunas from different packs. They carried themselves with confidence and power, and their presence alone made the space feel smaller, as if the walls were closing in.

I wanted no part of it. But Damian had other plans. He had shoved me into a plain black dress, one that clung to me uncomfortably and revealed more skin than I wanted. Then he handed me a tray of wine glasses and placed me with the betas who served the guests, forcing me to move among them like I belonged there as a servant.

I didn’t know what his true reason was, but I knew when I was being humiliated. That much was clear.

My hair was tied back tightly, pulling at my scalp, and the dress made me feel exposed in a way that unsettled me. I walked with my head lowered, avoiding the sharp eyes of the people around me. For most of them, I was invisible. They didn’t look at me unless it was to raise a hand or crook a finger, signaling for me to bring them another glass of wine.

But I still felt the weight of their stares. Some of the guests recognized me from school. Their eyes were not kind. I could sense their ridicule in the way they whispered, in the way their quiet laughter slid across my skin. It was like being surrounded by invisible knives.

“That’s her?”

“Oh my goddess, it is."

Snickers followed after me like shadows.

I didn’t need to look. I knew that voice.

Lidia.

She acted as if she already belonged to Damian Wolfe, as if this coronation was her stage as much as his. But it was expected. Everyone in the room knew she was likely to be Damian’s mate. People whispered about it constantly, saying she was not only beautiful but also capable, well-raised, and trained to be Luna. Their families had always been close, and that closeness gave her an advantage that no one could ignore.

As I passed her table carrying the pitcher of chilled berry wine, I heard her laugh. It was not the soft kind of laugh that came from joy. It was low, controlled, and sharp at the edges, the kind of laugh used to make others feel small.

“Well, well. If it isn’t our little skunk maid,” Lidia purred, voice pitched so everyone could hear. “Come here and pour me some wine.”

A ripple of laughter followed.

I kept my eyes down and obeyed.

She tossed her hair like she was on stage, her words sweetened with poison. “Careful, Skye. Don’t spill on my dress. You know how clumsy omega hands can be.”

My grip tightened on the pitcher. The wine trembled with me.

“Didn’t you scrub toilets this morning?” she added, leaning closer so only I could hear, though her words carried enough to draw attention. “I hope you actually washed those hands before touching our glasses. It would be terrible to catch… whatever you carry."

Heat rushed to my cheeks, spreading until my entire face felt on fire. But I said nothing. I kept quiet, held my breath steady, and poured the wine with slow, careful movements.

I was almost done, ready to step away from her table, when a foot slid out in front of me. My balance shifted instantly. The tray tipped forward, the glasses rattled, and before I could catch myself, the pitcher slipped and shattered.

The sound of glass breaking silenced the room. Conversations stopped mid-sentence. The air felt sharp and still, like everyone was holding their breath.

I dropped to my knees at once, trying to pick up the scattered pieces before anyone could look too long. My hands moved quickly, but they were trembling so badly that the shards slipped through my fingers. Then one sharp edge cut across my palm. I hissed softly as blood rose, bright against my skin.

“Oh, look. She’s bleeding,” Lidia said in a tone that pretended to be concerned but carried only satisfaction. She tilted her head slightly, her smile cruel. “Isn’t that considered bad luck on a coronation day?”

The laughter came back immediately, rising in soft bursts around me. It wasn’t kind laughter—it was sharp, cutting, and meant to remind me of my place.

Then, suddenly, the laughter stopped.

The quiet that followed was heavier than the noise. It pressed down on everyone in the hall, thick and absolute. Even before I lifted my head, I knew what had changed.

Damian had entered the room.

His footsteps echoed against the marble. Commanding. The air itself seemed to still around him as he walked toward us, that even conversations died completely and the room parting like a wave to let him pass.

He stopped only a few feet away from me.

I kept my eyes down. I didn’t dare meet his gaze.

“Who did this?” His voice was quiet but steady, and it carried clearly across the room.

Lidia’s confident smile faltered. She forced out a light laugh. “She dropped the tray, Damian. Clumsy omega reflexes, nothing more.”

I pressed my bleeding hand into the fabric of my dress, trying to stop the blood from dripping onto the floor. I kept my head bowed lower, the heat of shame crawling across my skin.

“I saw the whole thing,” Damian said. His tone didn’t rise, but it cut through the silence like a blade. “You tripped her.”

Lidia blinked, caught off guard. “I—what? I didn’t—”

“You did.” He left no space for argument. His words were flat, final, and undeniable.

The room froze. It was as if no one dared to even breathe.

“Someone help her up,” Damian ordered, his eyes sweeping the hall. But no one moved. The weight of fear, or hesitation, kept everyone still.

His jaw tightened. The silence stretched. Then, without hesitation, he moved.

Damian Wolfe—the heir, the future Alpha—lowered himself to one knee in front of me.

The sight made my chest tighten. I couldn’t understand it. How was it possible? How could someone like him kneel for someone like me?

“Don’t touch it,” he said. “You’re bleeding.”

He bent down slowly and picked up one of the shards of broken glass from the floor then he wrapped his handkerchief around my bleeding hand. My breath caught, and for a moment I could not move at all. Against my will, almost without realizing, my eyes lifted to his face.

For a single heartbeat, maybe two, we stayed caught in that space, locked together. The hall, the crowd, the murmurs, everything else seemed to fade into the background.

Then he looked away. Just like that, the moment broke.

He rose to his full height, straightened the sharp line of his suit jacket with a simple adjustment, and turned toward the crowd as if nothing had happened.

“Carry on,” he said.

And no one dared laugh again.

The ceremony ran smoothly after that.

Toast after toast was made, each one delivered with perfect formality. Blessings were spoken in clear, practiced voices, and the Luna herself draped the heavy crest over his shoulder and declared Damian as Alpha of the Silverclaw Pack.

But I didn’t really see any of it. My hands worked automatically, even though the cut was still deep. When it finally ended, I slipped away as quietly as I could. The moment I reached the small wooden door, I pushed it shut behind me and leaned my back against it. My heart was still pounding so hard it felt like it might burst out of my chest.

He defended me. Damian defended me in front of everyone.

No matter how hard I tried to push it aside, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. About the way he looked at me. About the way my chest reacted every time his presence filled a room.

My head spun. Heat rose without warning, creeping up my neck and settling in my cheeks until it felt like my whole face was on fire. I lifted a hand to my skin, surprised by how hot it was. My chest tightened, and my breath slipped out in short, shallow gasps that only made the dizziness worse.

What’s happening to me?

And then the truth struck me all at once, clear and undeniable.

Tonight.

Tonight is the night I shift for the first time.