Chapter 3

Amber pulled into the Alpha’s estate under the cloak of night, the moon a pale witness to the storm of emotions raging in her chest. She had seconds to compose herself before stepping into the public arena of celebration—a party that would announce her child to the entire pack. The halls of the estate were a grand maze of polished stone and glittering chandeliers, but tonight they felt like a cage, gilded yet suffocating. Every footstep echoed, a reminder that thousands of eyes would soon judge her, praise her, or worse, notice the tremor in her hands.

She smoothed her dress, a silk gown of midnight blue that clung to her curves, shimmering with the faintest hint of starlight. Power, she knew, was as much about image as influence. Every detail mattered. Every glance could be weaponized. Every smile, weaponized. And yet, beneath the surface, her mind raced—not toward the party, not toward the Alpha, but toward the shadow lingering in her life: Dakota.

The Warlock’s words haunted her. “You cannot hide her from me. Without her wolf, she is just an Omega.” The chill of the threat was still fresh, a poison running through her veins. Her child—her beautiful, unborn child—was a target. She clenched her fists beneath the folds of her dress, forcing the shiver to stay hidden. Not here. Not now. She would not allow the pack to see fear. They must only see triumph.

Stepping into the grand hall, the lights of a hundred chandeliers sparkled against polished floors. Wolves of every rank were gathered, their murmurs a constant hum of curiosity and gossip. Alpha Trevor, radiant and commanding, stood at the center, the very air bending around him. He looked at Amber with a predatory pride, as if daring anyone to question the heir that had been secured by her body and ambition.

Amber’s chest swelled—not with love, not with warmth—but with calculated satisfaction. She had survived the Warlock’s threat. She had secured her position with the Alpha. For now, at least, the stage was hers.

Trevor stepped forward, his gaze locking on hers. “Tonight, we celebrate not just the pack, but our future,” he proclaimed, voice echoing like rolling thunder. “The Luna bears our child, and with her, we shall rise stronger than ever.”

Amber forced a radiant smile, lifting her chin with the grace of a queen masking a storm. The pack cheered, their voices washing over her, a wave of approval and envy. She allowed herself a subtle, inward victory: every cheer was a shield against Dakota, every approving glance a nail in her coffin of deceit.

Yet beneath the glittering masks, her heart pounded. She could feel it—the silent pull of Dakota’s curse, tugging at the edges of reality, threading through the air like black smoke. Her wolf stirred faintly in response, restless, uneasy. She pressed a hand to her belly, whispering a quiet vow: I will protect you. No one will touch you. Not Trevor. Not Dakota. Not anyone.

Trevor approached her, the crowd parting like water around a stone. His hand brushed hers, possessive, demanding. “You look radiant tonight,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble of satisfaction. “Our child… our future…” His eyes lingered on her belly, as if claiming it with the sheer weight of his Alpha presence.

Amber’s lips curved in a controlled, victorious smile, hiding the shiver beneath. “Yes,” she said softly. “Our future is secured.”

The murmurs of the pack grew louder as she moved among them, exchanging polite words, smiles, and gestures of status. Every glance was a calculated performance, every laugh a mask. She could see the whispers—curiosity, jealousy, awe—but none suspected the storm lurking just beneath her calm exterior.

Then, just as the first toast was lifted, the air shifted. A chill rolled through the hall, unnoticed by the pack but unmistakable to Amber. Her necklace glowed faintly, the telltale signal of Dakota’s presence. A flicker of panic rose in her chest, sharp and cold.

He’s here, she thought, forcing her expression back to serenity. He will not ruin this. Not tonight.

Her mind raced. The Warlock had power, yes—but so did she. Cunning, manipulation, and the Alpha’s obsession with her child were weapons she could wield. If he truly came here, he would not expect her to strike first. She would use his arrogance against him, mask her fear with radiance, and protect her child at all costs.

As Trevor raised his glass, Amber pressed a hand gently to his arm, voice soft and intimate. “We must toast,” she whispered, letting the words tremble just enough to be human. “To the pack, to our future… to our child.”

The crowd echoed her toast, unaware of the silent battle unfolding in the shadows of their celebration. Amber’s eyes flicked to every corner of the room, every shadow, every reflection in the polished surfaces. Nothing. For now.

Yet she knew it was only a matter of time. Dakota’s obsession would not allow him to wait. He would strike, and when he did, Amber would be ready. Every step she took, every word she spoke, was now a shield for her child, a trap for the Warlock. She would survive. She had to.

The party continued, a whirlwind of music, laughter, and political maneuvering. Amber moved among the pack with effortless grace, weaving through conversations, planting subtle impressions, ensuring that every eye saw her as triumphant, untouchable. Every gesture, every smile, every carefully measured laugh was armor.

And yet, beneath the surface, the terror lingered, a cold shadow wrapping around her heart. The Warlock’s threat was real, immediate, and terrifying. Her child’s wolf spirit was vulnerable. Her power, her cunning, would be tested in ways she could not yet imagine.

But Amber had survived worse. She had conquered despair. She had navigated the Alpha’s cruelty and secured her position. And she would do it again. She would protect her child. She would outwit Dakota. She would survive.

Tonight, she was the Luna. She was radiant, powerful, untouchable… and hiding a storm that could consume even the strongest of wolves.

The celebration continued, unaware of the darkness waiting just beyond the glow of candlelight, the shadow poised to strike. Amber’s smile never faltered. Her eyes, however, held a secret fire—one that would burn for her child, for power, for survival.

And in the quiet corners of her mind, she whispered: Dakota, you may think you control this story. But the wolf I carry… and the woman I am… will never be yours to command.