The Public Humiliation

Chapter Two:

The grand ballroom of the Moonveil estate was a suffocating sea of glittering silk, expensive cologne, and oppressive Alpha posturing. Hundreds of high-ranking wolves from neighboring territories had arrived, turning the gala into an aggressive display of political power disguised as a birthday celebration.

I stood near the edge of the terrace, shivering slightly as the cool night air brushed against my skin. I was wrapped in a simple, off-white dress that was severely outdated and fraying at the seams. I felt entirely out of place among the elite. My hands shook as I pulled out my phone, dialing Brandon's number for the third time tonight. He had promised to meet me by the western garden an hour ago, but he was completely missing from the floor.

"Hey, Brandon, where are you?" I asked anxiously the second the line clicked open.

"I'm busy with something critical right now, Layla. Don't call me again. I'll find you later," he snapped, his voice oddly breathless and strained, before cutting the line completely.

I stared at the blank screen, a cold knot of dread twisting in my stomach. _Something critical? On my birthday?_ I didn't know that inside a darkened private lounge just a few corridors away, Brandon had my twin sister Hannah pinned against the wall, his hands tangled in her hair while she giggled wickedly against his ear.

As I walked back toward the edge of the ballroom to look for him, pieces of passing conversations floated through the air, catching my attention. A group of pack elders stood near the marble pillars, speaking in hushed, nervous tones.

"Have you heard the news from the northern border?" one whispered, glancing over his shoulder. "Alpha Victor of the Ironclaw Pack—the ruthless monster who slaughtered his own father for the throne—is actively searching for a bride."

"Who would dare send their daughter to that merciless devil?" another shuddered. "They say he carries two massive, jagged claw marks completely raked across his back. A permanent reminder of the bloodbath it took to claim his crown."

Two claw marks across his back.

I froze mid-step, the breath catching in my throat. My heart hammered violently against my ribs. That specific description... it was identical to the massive, silvered scars I saw on the broad shoulders of the man who haunted my nightmares every single night. Was it possible I was dreaming of Alpha Victor—the most feared, lethal tyrant in the entire northern hemisphere?

"Well, well, look what the cat dragged in," a loud, mocking voice interrupted my spiraling thoughts.

I turned to find Lucy, the arrogant daughter of the wealthy Silvermind Pack Alpha, blocking my path. She wore a gown that cost more than my father spent on my food in a year, and her face was twisted into a cruel smirk.

"What are you staring at, you filthy little maid?" Lucy scoffed, loudly enough to draw the attention of nearby guests.

"I'm sorry, Lucy. I didn't see anything. I was just passing through," I whispered softly, trying to step around her.

"She's not just some maid, Lucy, though she certainly dresses like one," a harsh voice laughed from the crowd. It was Hannah, stepping out of the VIP corridor with a smug smile. Brandon trailed closely behind her, his collar slightly rumpled. "That's my sister, Layla."

"Oh, so _you're_ that useless she-wolf who can't even shift?" Lucy sneered, looking at my simple dress with profound disgust. "Coming to a party in rags... how pathetic. That's probably the nicest thing she owns."

Before I could walk away, Lucy tilted her crystal goblet. "Oops. I'm so sorry, my hand slipped. Guess it'll help wash off your cheap smell." Dark red wine poured down the front of my white dress, soaking into the fabric. The surrounding guests erupted into cruel giggles, whispering loudly about the pathetic, wolfless failure who didn't belong here.

Humiliated, I ran down the private corridors to look for Brandon, desperate for comfort. I pushed open the door to a secluded lounge at the end of the hall, and my heart completely stopped.

Brandon and Hannah were tangled together on the leather sofa, kissing passionately.

"What the hell are you doing?!" I choked out, tears instantly blinding my eyes as the world seemed to tilt beneath my feet. "How could you do this to me? You're supposed to be my mate... you're my sister!"

Hannah laughed coldly, slowly detangling herself from him and straightening her hair. "Oh, please, Layla. Brandon and I are the two strongest in the pack. You're just a worthless, wolfless nobody. Do you really think you're a better match for a future Alpha warrior?"

I looked at the boy I loved, begging silently for a denial. "Brandon... is that what you think?"

Brandon sneered, adjusting his rumpled collar and refusing to look me in the eye. "Yes, Layla. Let's be realistic. You're useless. Your own alpha father doesn't care about you. Only Hannah can give me what I want—the power and the status I deserve."

Suddenly, the heavy doors burst open and my father marched into the room, alerted by the commotion. "What's all this noise about?!"

"Father, please help me!" I cried, grabbing his sleeve, desperate for a single ounce of protection. "Brandon and Hannah... they've been cheating on me!"

"This is outrageous, Layla! You're making a pathetic scene on your sister's birthday," my father hissed, violently ripping his arm away from my grip. His eyes were cold, assessing me with utter contempt. "In the world of wolves, strength recognizes strength. In love, the one who gets abandoned is the actual other woman. So, Brandon, make your official choice right now."

Brandon stepped up next to Hannah, looking down his nose at me with empty, uncaring eyes.

"I, Brandon, formally reject Layla as my mate."

The brutal, physical pain of the broken bond ripped through my chest like a hot blade. My lungs seized, the room spun violently into darkness, and I collapsed heavily onto the hard marble floor, blacking out cold as the echoes of their laughter faded away