10

LEAH’S POV 

The heavy engine of the Rosante family car hums smoothly against the paved road as we leave our territory behind and head toward the high hill where the Alpha’s manor stands.

Inside the enclosed space of the vehicle, the air is thick, stifling, and heavy with the scent of high-grade Beta pheromones mixed with expensive perfume.

Augustine never has any d*mn semblance of modesty, even when it comes to his pheromones. 

He sits in the front passenger seat, his massive frame blocking my view of the road, his eyes fixed dead ahead on the winding road illuminated by the headlights. 

Bea sits in the back row, squeezed between Leonardo and Willow, her fingers nervously smoothing out the lace trim of her dress.

And I? I am sitting on the far right, pressed up against the cold glass of the rear door, completely isolated despite being packed tightly into the same row.

I lean my head against the cool window pane, watching the dark silhouette of the dense pine forests speed past us in the night.

In my past life, any car ride to the alpha’s manor was absolute agony. I remember sitting in this exact spot, my chest aching so badly I could barely breathe. 

Back then, Augustine would spend the entire twenty-minute drive lecturing me on how to behave, threatening to lock me in the cellar if I made Willow uncomfortable or dared to look sullen in front of Alpha Lockwood. 

Leonardo would keep glaring at me through the rear-view mirror, silently warning me to keep my trap shut. And Willow would spend the entire trip softly complaining about how her dress felt slightly crushed, prompting Bea to fuss over her like a fragile glass doll while completely ignoring my presence.

Back then, I had spent every second of the ride fighting back bitter tears, desperately rehearsing polite phrases in my head, foolishly hoping that if I acted perfectly, my 'family' might look at me with a fraction of the pride they showered on Willow.

Now, as I look at their quiet, smug faces reflected in the dark window glass, I feel nothing. No sorrow, no yearning, and no pain. Just a freezing, crystal-clear focus.

Let them fuss over her. Let them wrap her in silk and warmth. The higher they pile her up on that fake pedestal tonight, the harder she is going to crash down when I start pulling the stones out from under her feet.

The tires grind against the finely crushed white gravel as the car finally sweeps up the grand, horseshoe-shaped driveway of Alpha Everest Lockwood’s estate.

The manor looms over us like a fortress of power. High marble pillars frame the double-door entrance, warm amber light pouring out from the massive floor-to-ceiling glass windows, illuminating the meticulously manicured front lawns. 

It is a house built on ancient bloodlines and unyielding authority, after all, the Lockwood family is one of the five great powers on the entire continent. 

It is a house I once foolishly believed would one day be my home.

The vehicle comes to a smooth halt near the broad stone steps. Augustine opens his door first, stepping out into the crisp night air and straightening his dark suit coat. He moves around to the side immediately, opening the rear door and reaching out a strong, steady hand to help Bea step down onto the gravel. 

Leonardo steps out right after, brushing a speck of dust off his shoulder before moving with broad, rigid steps to open the door for Willow.

I step out last, unassisted, my bare ankles meeting the chill of the evening breeze. No one holds the door for me. No one offers a hand. I am simply expected to drag myself out behind them like an unpaid servant following behind noble blood.

Standing on the broad stone porch beneath the glowing lanterns to greet us are the undisputed rulers of the Harvest Moon territory.

Alpha Everest Lockwood stands at the center, a stern, broad-shouldered man with streaks of iron-gray through his hair and a suffocating Alpha presence that naturally makes lesser wolves bow their heads. 

Beside him stands his wife, Luna Mary Lockwood, draped in rich emerald velvet, her chest adorned with family diamonds, looking every bit the proud, unyielding noble matron.

And right next to them stands their son.

Asher Lockwood.

The moment Willow’s leather slippers touch the gravel driveway, Asher moves. He completely bypasses Augustine, pays no mind to Bea, and ignores Leonardo entirely. 

His bright blue eyes lock onto Willow with an intensity that borders on embarrassing for a future Alpha. He rushes down the short flight of stone steps, taking her small, delicate hands directly into his own.

He practically purrs with male pride as he looks at her cream silk dress. He hovers around her like her perfect little lapdog, his head tilted to catch her quiet, melodic giggles. 

He stands so close his shoulder repeatedly brushes against hers, subtly shifting his body every time she takes a single step just to ensure he remains squarely by her side.

I stand three paces behind Augustine and Leonardo, my hands folded loosely over the front of my simple green tunic, my body entirely relaxed.

It is almost fascinating to watch it unfold from the outside when you aren't blinded by heartbreak. I’m standing right here under the bright glare of the porch lights, yet to them, I’m completely invisible. 

I fade into the dark background like an unnamed extra in a play. The uniformed pack guard holding open the heavy oak door receives more direct eye contact from the Alpha family than I do.

As if feeling the heavy, freezing weight of my gaze on her back, Willow subtly shifts her posture. She leans her shoulder gently into Asher’s chest, allowing him to rest a hand against her lower back, and tilts her head just enough for her face to be hidden from the elders.

She turns her head back, looking directly at me over Asher's shoulder.

And then, her lips curve into a sharp, well-hidden, utterly smug little smirk.

It lasts for less than a second, but it is dripping with victory. She knows exactly what she is doing. She thinks she’s won. 

She believes she has successfully stripped me of my home, my family, my dignity, and the young future alpha who used to write me secret letters under the full moon.

I remember how Past Leah reacted to any of Willow’s snide smirks in my previous life. Back then, I used to pray with everything inside my soul that someone—anyone—would just glance at Willow at the right second. 

I wanted them to catch her slipping. I wanted my family, or Asher, or the Alpha to see the calculating, venomous snake hiding behind those wide, innocent eyes.

But no one ever did. They only ever saw what Willow wanted them to see, while I was left looking like a crazy, jealous fool for claiming she was anything less than an angel.

I don't need anyone to catch her anymore. I don't need a savior to expose her for me. I am going to do it myself, piece by piece, until there is nowhere left for her to hide.