IN THOSE LINGERIE

SALOME

The cold realization sent a shiver down my spine. Mariam stared right back at me from behind the black veil, her eyes burning with a dark, twisted fury. Before I could shout for the guards or warn Williams, she violently yanked her wrist from my grip. The glass vial slipped from her fingers, shattering silently on the thick carpet below.

She turned on her heel and dissolved into the crowded hall, her dark gown blending seamlessly into the sea of guests.

"Salome? Is everything alright?"

I jumped at the sound of Williams’s voice. He was standing beside me, his eyebrows furrowed in concern as his hand found the small of my back again.

"I... yes," I stammered, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. My eyes frantically scanned the room, but Mariam was gone, as if she had been nothing more than a ghost. I looked down at his champagne glass, then up at his handsome, calm face. Telling him right now, in front of the entire pack elite, would cause absolute chaos. "I just... felt a little dizzy for a second."

Williams’s expression softened, and he took the champagne glass—the very one Mariam had targeted—and set it down on a nearby tray without drinking it. Relief washed over me so hard my knees almost buckled.

"It’s been a long day," he said gently, brushing a stray curl away from my face. "Let’s get you upstairs."

The quiet of the Alpha’s private quarters was a stark contrast to the roaring celebration downstairs. The giant master bedroom felt overwhelming. Just yesterday, I was sleeping in a tiny, cold room in the servants' wing. Now, I was the Luna, standing in the middle of a room that smelled faintly of pine and expensive cologne.

As the hours dragged on, the initial shock of seeing Mariam slowly faded into a dull, heavy ache. Williams had gone straight to his home office after bringing me upstairs, buried in pack paperwork and urgent calls from his hockey manager. I was left alone with my thoughts.

Determined to be a good wife—to prove, if only to myself, that I wasn't completely useless in this high status—I decided to make dinner.

I went down to the grand kitchen late that evening. The head chef tried to stop me, horrified that the new Luna was washing her hands to cook, but I gently insisted. Cooking was something I knew how to do. It was familiar. It grounded me. I spent hours preparing a rich, savory beef stew, warm herb bread, and fresh salad—all of Williams’s favorite dishes that I had memorized during my time as a maid.

By the time I carried the warm tray back up to our room, it was well past midnight.

I wanted tonight to feel special. I wanted to forget the tension, the whispers, and the terrifying shadow of Mariam. Taking a deep breath, I walked into the adjoining dressing room and opened the drawer where the bridal gifts had been stored. Tucked inside was an elegant, dark red lace lingerie set. My hands trembled as I put it on. Looking in the full-length mirror, I barely recognized myself. I looked romantic, vulnerable, and completely ready to belong to my husband.

I sat on the edge of the plush bed, the warm food resting on the nightstand beside me, and waited.

One hour passed. Then two.

The silence of the room slowly wrapped around me, heavy and suffocating. My eyes grew heavy, the exhaustion of the crazy forty-eight hours finally catching up to my body. I was drift-sleeping, curled up sideways on the bed, when the quiet click of the bedroom door woke me up.

I snapped awake instantly, sitting up as Williams stepped into the room. He looked exhausted. His tie was loosened, his top buttons undone, and his hair was a messy tuft.

"Williams," I said softly, a hopeful smile tugging at my lips as I stood up. "You're back. I... I made you dinner."

I gestured to the tray on the nightstand. The food had gone cold, but I was more than ready to run down and heat it up for him.

Williams barely looked at the food. He let out a long, heavy sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I already ate, Salome."

My smile froze. "Oh. Did you grab something downstairs?"

"No," he said, his voice flat as he unbuttoned his cuffs. "Miriam came by my office earlier. She brought me a meal and we had to discuss some leftover divorce arrangements."

The name hit me like a physical punch. Miriam.

My breath caught in my throat. "Miriam... was here? You ate the food she gave you?"

"Yes," he replied casually, taking off his watch and tossing it onto the dresser. Then, his eyes finally flicked over my body, sweeping down the lace nightgown I was wearing. Instead of warmth or desire, his brow pinched in disapproval. "And Salome, don't dress in lingerie again."

I stood frozen, the cold air hitting my bare skin like needles. "What?" I whispered.

"Just don't," he said dryly.

Without another word, without looking at me again, he pulled off his shirt, climbed into the massive bed, turned his back to me, and pulled the covers up to his shoulder. Within minutes, his breathing evened out into a deep, steady sleep.

I stood in the middle of the room, feeling smaller and lower than I had ever felt while scrubbing the palace floors.

A hot tear spilled over my cheek, followed by another. I quietly slipped into the bathroom, closed the door, and sank down onto the cold tile floor. I wrapped my arms around my knees and wept. The rejection cut deeper than any insult the jealous maids had thrown at me. He had eaten food brought by the woman who abused him, the woman who had tried to poison him only hours ago, while completely casting me aside.

I cried until my eyes burned, until there were no tears left inside me, resting my aching head against the bathtub until the dim morning light began to creep through the high window.

When I finally dragged myself back into the bedroom, the sun was fully up. Williams was sitting on the edge of the bed, tying his leather boots. He turned as the bathroom door clicked, his eyes landing on my face.

He stopped moving, his brow furrowing as he looked at my puffy, red face and swollen eyes.

"Salome," he said, his voice laced with confusion. "Why on earth have you been crying all night? What is wrong with you?"

I pressed my lips together, trying to keep my voice from shaking. "It was your words last night, Williams. You hurt me."

Williams blinked, looking genuinely bewildered. He stood up and walked over to me, placing his hands lightly on my shoulders.

"My words?" He shook his head, a soft, almost amused sigh escaping his lips. "Salome, you completely misunderstood me. I told you not to wear lingerie like that because the night temperature in this master suite drops drastically. I just didn't want you to get cold and catch a fever."

I stared at him, my mind scrambling to process his words. That was why? Because he was worried I would get cold?

Before I could say anything, before I could ask him about Miriam or tell him what I saw at the reception, Williams leaned down. He placed a gentle, lingering kiss right on my forehead.

"Stop overthinking everything," he murmured softly. "I have to run to an early morning training session with the team. Rest today, alright?"

He gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze, turned around, and walked out of the room, shutting the door softly behind him.

I stood there in the quiet room, staring at the closed door, a strange mixture of confusion and lingering heartache swirling in my chest. Did he really just mean the room was cold? Or was he just hiding how distant he felt from me?

Buzz.

The harsh vibration of my phone on the nightstand broke the silence.

I walked over and picked it up. It was an unknown number, displaying a single photo message. I tapped the screen to open it.

The image loaded instantly, making my breath hitch in my throat.

It was a high-resolution, close-up picture taken just a short while ago. Alpha Williams was sitting in a luxury car, and right beside him, leaning dangerously close with her arms wrapped around his neck, was Miriam. She was smiling triumphantly at the camera.

Beneath the photo was a short, sharp caption:

He is still mine.