Chapter seventy eight

Thaila – POV

By morning, the entire pack knew.

I woke up to the sound of clanging pots, laughter, and the thunder of boots outside my window. Someone had decided—probably my father, that dramatic old wolf—that my return deserved a full-blown feast.

A feast.

As if a few plates of roasted meat and sweetbread would fix the bruises I’d carved into my soul.

I rolled out of bed slowly, each muscle groaning in protest. My feet were still sore from the trek back. My cheek still throbbed faintly from Enzo’s slap. My chest felt hollow.

But my spine?

Straight as hell.

I threw open the chest at the foot of my bed and dug until I found what I needed: black leather pants, a deep red corset, and my thigh-high boots. If they wanted a return celebration, then fine—I’d show up looking like vengeance incarnate.

Let the whispers fly.

Let the men tremble.

Let every she-wolf raise her glass in quiet rebellion.

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The courtyard was already packed when I stepped out. Long wooden tables groaned