Chapter 9: The Grand Entrance

 

The Grand Hall was packed. Every wolf of rank and status in the Silver Moon Pack was there, holding crystal flutes of champagne, whispering behind their hands.

I could hear them even before the doors opened.

"Is she coming?" "Of course not. She’s probably hiding in her room crying." "Poor thing. Rejected on her birthday and now her sister gets the title. I’d kill myself if I were her."

Standing outside the heavy double oak doors, I felt a tremor run through my hands. My old instinct—the instinct to shrink, to hide, to apologize for existing—flared up.

Then, a large, warm hand covered mine, which was resting on his forearm.

"Breathe," Killian murmured.

I looked up at him. He looked devastating. He was wearing a tuxedo that fit him like a second skin, accentuating the width of his shoulders and the raw power radiating from him. He didn't look like an exile. He looked like an Emperor returning to conquer.

"They expect a victim," he said, his voice low and steel-hard. "Show them a Queen."

I took a deep breath, the scent of his cedarwood calming my nerves. I straightened my spine. I thought of the baby growing inside me. I thought of Chloe’s mocking note.

"I'm ready," I whispered.

Killian nodded to the guards. "Open it."

The heavy doors groaned open, the sound echoing through the hall.

The chatter inside died instantly. The music stopped. Hundreds of heads turned toward the entrance.

And then, silence. Absolute, stunned silence.

We stepped into the light.

I wasn't wearing the simple pastel dresses Liam used to like. I was wearing the dress. A floor-length gown of deep, blood-red silk that clung to every curve of my body like liquid fire. It had a slit that went dangerously high up my thigh and a backless design that exposed my skin—skin that was glowing and flawless.

Beside me, Killian was a dark shadow, a terrifying contrast to my brightness. His icy blue eyes scanned the room with a look of utter boredom, daring anyone to speak.

We began to walk.

The crowd parted like the Red Sea. No one dared to get close to Killian, but their eyes were glued to us.

"Is that... Elena?" "Goddess above, look at her." "Why is she with him? Why is she with the King?"

I held my head high, my heels clicking rhythmically on the marble floor. Click. Click. Click. The sound of war drums.

At the front of the room, on a raised dais, stood the happy couple.

Chloe was wearing a massive, puffy white ballgown that looked ridiculous—like a meringue cake exploded on her. She held a glass of champagne, her smile frozen in a rictus of shock.

And Liam.

Liam looked like he had been struck by lightning. He was holding Chloe’s hand, but his eyes... his eyes were devouring me.

He dropped Chloe’s hand.

We stopped at the bottom of the dais. The tension in the air was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

"You made it," Liam breathed, his voice audible in the silent hall. He took a step towards me, almost unconsciously. "Elena, you look... you look..."

"She looks expensive," Killian finished for him, his voice booming effortlessly across the room.

Killian slipped his arm around my waist, pulling me flush against his hard side. His hand rested possessively on the curve of my hip, burning through the silk.

"And she is with me."

Chloe snapped out of her trance. Her face turned a blotchy red, clashing horribly with her white dress.

"You!" she shrieked, pointing a shaking finger at me. "You have some nerve showing up here dressed like... like a whore! Ruining my ceremony!"

Gasps rang out.

I smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. It was the smile Killian had taught me.

"A whore?" I repeated, my voice steady and cool. "Funny. I'm not the one sleeping with my sister's mate."

"You were rejected!" Chloe spat. "Liam chose me! He wants a real Luna, not a useless human!"

"Enough," Killian said. He didn't shout, but the command slammed into everyone with the force of a physical blow. The Alpha tone.

He looked at Chloe with the same expression one would look at a cockroach.

"You sent the invitation, little girl," Killian said coldly. "We accepted. Now, are you going to continue screeching like a banshee, or are you going to proceed with your... mediocre little party?"

"Mediocre?" Liam bristled, his Alpha ego finally kicking in. "Father, this is my Mating Ceremony. Show some respect."

"Respect is earned, boy," Killian retorted, his eyes flashing dangerous gold. "And from where I'm standing, you traded a diamond for a piece of glass."

He looked pointedly at me, then at Chloe.

The insult was so blatant, so public, that the entire pack held its breath.

Liam looked back at me. I saw the regret swimming in his eyes. I saw the way he looked at the hand Killian had on my waist. He was jealous. He was regretting everything.

But it was too late.

"Happy mating, Liam," I said softly, locking eyes with him. "I hope she was worth it."

Then, I turned my back on him.

"I'm bored," I said to Killian, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Get me a drink?"

Killian let out a dark chuckle, the sound vibrating against my ribs.

"As you wish, my Queen."

He led me away from the dais, leaving the groom staring at my back and the bride on the verge of tears.

We hadn't even thrown a punch. We didn't have to.

We had just won the war.