One

Camelia Pov

A sharp pain throbbed behind my eyes.

I groaned and pressed my fingers to my temples. Silver-lilies and a man's cologne filled the room, both scents far too strong. My wolf stirred, uneasy.

Under the sheets, my leg brushed something warm.

I froze.

My eyes snapped open. A stranger lay beside me, naked beneath the dark sheets, his broad shoulders rising and falling with each breath. I had never seen him before.

This wasn't my bed. This wasn't even Silver Ridge Pack territory.

"Oh, Moon Mother."

I scrambled away from him. The sheets slipped, and I snatched them back over myself. My clothes lay scattered across the polished floor. My dress. My corset. One shoe near the door.

My hands shook as I dressed. A sleeve caught at my wrist, and I nearly cried tugging it free.

What had I done?

Pieces of the night came back. Anya had begged me to visit a bar near the neutral borders. My friends had supposedly abandoned me, and I hadn't wanted to go alone. Turning my sister away was something I'd never been able to do.

At the bar, she had handed me a glass of sweet, spiced cocktail. We had clinked cups. I remembered laughing.

After that, nothing. Just a blur.

Behind me, the stranger shifted.

I searched his face, hoping something would explain how I had ended up here. A scar near his shoulder. A ring on the table. None of it meant anything. He had never shown up at a Silver Ridge gathering, and I knew most of the important wolves in the neighboring packs. The polished stone, heavy curtains, and silent lift all spoke of money. This lodge was built for wealthy visitors who wanted to stay outside their own territory.

None of it made me feel safe.

My wolf paced inside me, rattled by the strange room and the unfamiliar male scent. Her instincts usually helped me read a place. Now every signal was tangled, and the pounding in my head made it worse.

Air. I needed air. Home. And above all, I needed to understand what had happened before Peter heard a version of it from someone else.

I grabbed my jacket and hurried out.

Down the corridor, I kept my head low, my pulse hammering. If the man woke up and asked questions, I wouldn't know what to say. If anyone saw me leaving his room, it would be all over the pack by noon.

My bonding ceremony with Peter Henderson was three days away.

Peter was the Beta-elect of Silver Ridge Pack. He had promised to stand beside me before the elders and claim me as his mate. Both families had been preparing for months. And now I had woken in another male's bed.

At the end of the corridor, I pressed a hand to my mouth. My stomach turned. I had never wanted another man. I loved Peter. Betraying him had never crossed my mind.

But what would he believe when he heard?

The elevator carried me down to the lobby. I didn't look back.

Then another thought struck.

Anya.

If I had lost control after that drink, what had happened to my sister?

I reached through the pack link. "Anya? Can you hear me?"

Silence.

"Anya, answer me."

Nothing. No voice, no feeling. Only a blank space where my sister should have been.

The memory of her at the bar wouldn't leave me alone. She had been so cheerful when she passed me that drink, teasing me for worrying too much about the ceremony. I had laughed and taken it without a second thought. Anya was my younger sister. Whatever had come between us over the years, I had never believed she would put me in danger.

The thought made my chest ache almost as much as the fear of facing Peter.

With shaking fingers, I opened a ride-hailing app and booked a car to the duplex Peter had gifted me after our betrothal party. The town was waking up outside the window. Shopkeepers unlocked their doors, pack members hurried toward the market district, and traffic moved as if nothing had changed.

Everything had changed.

Rumors moved fast in a pack. By midday, every wolf in Silver Ridge could be talking about me.

The ride felt endless. In my head, I rehearsed what I would say to Peter, and every explanation sounded weak. The truth was simple: I had gone out with Anya, accepted a drink, and lost the hours that followed. All I could do was ask him to believe the woman he had known for years.

The thought of seeing doubt in his eyes frightened me more than any rumor.

When the car stopped outside the duplex, I paid through the app and hurried to the front door.

It stood slightly open. Relief flickered through me. Anya must be inside.

I pushed through the doorway. "Anya?"

A man's voice answered from the living room.

"Where were you last night, Camelia?"

I stopped.

Peter stood beside the fireplace, arms folded, his face hard. He didn't look worried. He looked furious.

"I—" My throat tightened. "I'm sorry. I should have mind-linked you. I went to the bar with Anya."

Peter stepped toward me. "And you expect me to believe that's all you did?"

"Peter, please."

"Where were you?" he demanded again. "Tell me the truth."

His face made my stomach drop. He already knew something. Or someone had told him a story.

"I don't remember everything," I said. "I woke up in a strange room. There was a man beside me, but I don't know how I got there."

Peter's mouth twisted.

"You cheated on me."

"No! I would never choose to do that to you. Something happened to me. I think someone put something in my drink."

"Convenient."

"Our ceremony is in three days. Why would I ruin everything we have?"

He gave a bitter laugh. "Maybe you never wanted to marry me."

"That isn't true."

I reached for him. He stepped away.

That small movement hurt more than I expected. Peter had always let me touch him. He used to pull me close when I was upset. Now he looked at me as if I disgusted him.

My fingers fell to my side.

"Please," I whispered. "Just listen to me."

Peter's jaw tightened. "I want the truth, Camelia. And you had better have a good explanation."