Chapter 6: Guilty by Their Design

The doors to the main hall opened, and there I was — carried in Julian's arms, barely conscious, pain still burning through my veins like liquid fire from whatever had torn through me in that cellar. It hadn't faded. If anything, every jolt of movement made it worse, a low continuous burn beneath everything else happening in that room.

My sister stood at the center of it all, wrapped around Michael, her head resting on his shoulder. They turned together to face the doors.

A guard stepped forward before either of them could speak. “You should put her down. This is pack business.”

Julian's arms tightened around me instead of loosening. “Take one more step and find out what happens.” His voice was quiet. The guard didn't move again.

Alpha Damon's voice came down like thunder. “Someone will explain to me,” he said, “why a ceremony scheduled for three days from now was rushed to one — and why the Luna standing at that altar isn't the woman whose name I heard announced as the bride.” His eyes swept the room before landing on Michael. “Because from where I stand, this looks less like a wedding and more like a theft.”

The crowd erupted into whispers. They all knew. Everyone in that hall understood this was supposed to be Michael's ceremony with me — but with the Alpha and Beta both standing there insisting otherwise, nobody had dared question it out loud. Until now.

Emilia's voice cut through the room, loud and clear, thick with tears that came far too easily.

“Raven, how could you do this to me?” Her voice broke on my name, her hand pressed to her chest. Tears already tracked down her cheeks — real ones, the kind she'd probably worked up thinking about how I'd wronged her until she half-believed it herself. “I forgave you for faking the bond with Michael. I forgave the dark magic, the way you forced something the Moon Goddess never blessed. I even understood why you did it — you were desperate, I know that.” Her voice dropped to something wounded, intimate, like she was trying to reach the sister she'd lost. “But showing up here? Trying to ruin my ceremony? Raven, when does it end?”

“She's telling the truth.” Jared stepped forward before I could even respond, his voice carrying the practiced weight of reluctant honesty. “I've seen the texts. She's been asking questions about binding rituals for months. I didn't want to believe it either.”

“That's a lie,” I said, but my voice barely carried over the rising whispers.

The whispers turned to gasps. I watched belief spread through the crowd like fire through dry grass.

“Put me down,” I told Julian. He didn't, not yet — not until I pushed against his chest hard enough that he understood I meant it, lowering me carefully enough that I could find my footing before he let go. I could hardly stand, but I would face them on my own feet or not at all.

“Michael,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. It cut through the room anyway.

His jaw tightened. For just a moment something flickered across his face — guilt, maybe, or the shape of it — before Emilia's hand tightened on his arm and he looked away.

“Michael.” I repeated it louder, moving closer despite my legs threatening to give out beneath me. “How can you stand there and act like this doesn't involve you? Say something. Tell them I faked it, if that's what you actually believe.”

His throat worked. His mouth opened.

Nothing came out.

“That's enough.” Alpha Nero's voice rang through the hall. “We've discussed this matter within the family. There is nothing else to say. Certainly not in front of guests.”

For a moment, everything went silent. My fury sat barely contained beneath the pain, but I wasn't going to let them silence me. Not this time.

“Michael, you're a coward,” I said, closing the last of the distance between us, and I watched him flinch at the word. “If what you're letting them do to me is so right, then tell them the truth. Tell them the real reason you betrayed me. Tell them about the—”

I never finished the sentence.

My father's hand caught me across the face before I even saw it move, hard enough to nearly knock me off my feet.

For a moment, everything stopped.

I didn't fall — not yet. The world tilted, sound muffled like I'd been shoved underwater, but I stayed on my feet long enough to see them all clearly: my father's face twisted with rage that had nothing to do with discipline and everything to do with fear of what I'd been about to say. Emilia's expression flickering — just for a heartbeat — from wounded sister to something cold and satisfied before the mask slammed back into place.

Michael, his hand half-raised like he'd thought about stopping it, horror written across his face now that it was too late to matter.

And the crowd. The crowd had finally gone silent — real shock this time, not performance, the kind of silence that meant even they knew something had crossed a line.

Then my legs gave out.

Julian was there before I hit the ground, catching me, his power rolling off him in a wave that pressed down on everyone within reach.

Uncle Damon stepped up beside me a heartbeat later.

“Alphas, this—” Alpha Nero started.

“Internal pack business,” my father cut in, fast, almost desperate. “You have no right to interfere in how I discipline my daughter.”

“Discipline.” Uncle Damon's voice dropped to something dangerous. “Is that what you call striking a woman who can barely stand? I've known Raven since she was a child. I watched her grow into someone worthy of respect — something you clearly never saw in her. From this day forward, she comes with me.”

“You can't just take her,” my father said, though his voice had lost most of its certainty.

“I can. And I am.” Uncle Damon didn't blink. “Challenge me if you'd like, Nero. But know that if you do, I'll be asking questions about this rushed ceremony. About the sudden change in bride. About exactly what happened to make Raven look like she's been tortured before she ever reached this hall.”

The silence that followed was absolute.

Alpha Nero straightened, trying to assert what dominance he had left in the room. It didn't matter. He was no match for Uncle Damon — let alone for the storm barely leashed behind Julian's eyes.