Chapter 18

I slip back into the ballroom as discreetly as I can, head high, shoulders set. No one should think to look at me—yet I feel the weight of eyes before I’ve even crossed the threshold.

I’d done my best to fix myself up: hair smoothed back into place, makeup reapplied just enough to erase the signs of being freshly kissed. No one would guess I was just tangled in a corner with a rogue. That would be far too scandalous. Far too impossible.

As I weave toward a group of sympathetic Lunas, my gaze lands on her.

Rosalina.

With everything that’s happened, I almost forgot she tried to kill me.

She’s standing to Damian’s right, poised and delicate, hanging onto his every word. He’s recounting rogue attacks, no doubt painting himself as a selfless warrior who threw himself between innocent wolves and death. She looks utterly absorbed. So sweet. So harmless.

If I hadn’t been her target twice now, I might still believe it too.

Her golden dress clings like sunlight, a halo of fabric flowing around her as if she descended from some divine realm. A vision of grace and innocence. The perfect angel—flanked by two alphas dressed in black. Or at least, one of them fits the title. The other...

“Nara.”

A hand touches my arm—careful, but firm. I turn to find Lucian.

He looks exactly like himself: neat, unreadable, tense. But there’s a flicker of guilt in his eyes. And the faint scent of alcohol lingers on his breath.

“Lucian.” My tone is flat, impersonal. It mirrors how he’s treated me all evening. He seems to notice—his expression tightens, like my distance stings more than he thought it would.

I raise a single brow. “What can I do for you?”

“I was hoping we could talk,” he says. His eyes flick toward the curious stares now drifting our way. “Privately.”

I nod once. He doesn’t grab my hand, but he gestures, and I follow as he leads me to a quiet balcony across the ballroom. He hasn’t noticed the new ring. No one has.

Once outside, he pulls the curtain shut behind us, sealing us off from the crowd. It surprises me, how much privacy he’s chasing at an event like this. Even when we were together—before Rosalina—Lucian was never the one to pull me aside. That was always Damian’s game. Whispers in the dark. Hands under skirts. Teeth against skin.

But this? This doesn’t feel like that.

And I doubt Lucian brought me here to ravish me.

His gaze finally lands on me again, deadly serious.

“Nara, I… I’m sorry, but I have to ask.”

I turn fully towards him, arching an eyebrow. “You look like you’re about to confess to a crime.”

He bites his lower lip, avoiding my eyes. His weight shifts from one foot to the other, defensive, uncertain. “I just… need to clear something up.”

I fold my arms. “Then ask.”

He drags a hand through his hair. “Is it true…?” The words catch in his throat. He looks down, voice lower. “I’m not accusing you, I just—Rosalina came out of the stairwell in tears. Said you tried to push her.”

I blink. The world tilts.

“She said what?”

Lucian winces. “We had to take her aside. She was shaking. Crying. We had to calm her down. She’s better now, so I was heading up to find you when you walked out. From the same stairwell.”

I stare at him, stunned. Then a cold laugh escapes me—sharp, bitter. “You think I pushed her? You think I tried to kill her?”

“She said you threatened her earlier. At the start of the party. Damian heard you too. Something about ‘enjoying it while it lasts’? You don’t think that sounds—”

“Like a warning?” I cut in. “Not a threat. You know I wouldn’t—Moon, Lucian, do you even hear yourself?”

His jaw tightens. “I don’t know what to believe right now.”

My chest rises with the force of my breath. “You’ve known me since we were toddlers. Since we built pillow forts and played warrior and princess in the woods behind the house. And this—this is what breaks your trust?”

He takes a step forward. “You’ve been different lately. Cold. Distant. I don’t know what’s going on with you.”

I close the space between us, pointing a finger to his chest. “What’s going on is you met your mate and forgot everything else. You believed her before even asking me what happened.”

His lips part, like he wants to argue—but nothing comes out.

I laugh again, softer this time, but colder. “She reversed it, Lucian. I was the one at the top of the stairs. She shoved me. And when it didn’t work, she ran crying and beat me to the punch.”

His face twists with conflict. “She looked terrified.”

“She is a terrifying liar,” I snap. “That’s her game. You just don’t want to see it.”

Lucian exhales sharply, raking his hand through his hair again, more forcefully this time. “I didn’t come here to fight.”

“No,” I say, voice low. “You came here to ask if I’m a murderer.”

He flinches. “That’s not fair.”

“Neither is watching someone lie to your face and knowing she’s going to get away with it. Again.”

We stand there, breathing hard. The silence stretches.

Then, softer: “Nara…”

My heart wavers at the way he says my name. I shake my head, stepping back. “You already made your choice, Lucian. Don’t pretend this is about truth. It’s about doubt. And the second you started doubting me… you became part of the problem.”

I turn away before he can respond, refusing to let him see how much it hurts. I step back into the ballroom with fire in my veins.

Heads turn as I pass. Conversations falter. The music fades to a whisper beneath the pounding of my steps.I don’t look left or right. I walk straight toward Damian and Rosalina like a storm with a name. 

There is nothing left for me here. Not in this house. Not in this pack. Not in this life they built out of my ruin. 

Dorothee spots me first, her heels clicking as she rushes to fall in step.

“Are you okay?” she asks, voice tight with worry.

I don’t answer. “Go get your things. We’re leaving.”

She stumbles in surprise. “Leaving?”

I shoot her a look that slices through doubt. “Now. Thirty minutes. Be outside.”

I spot Silas leaning against the far wall, a champagne flute in hand, watching me like he already knows what's coming. I don’t stop. Don’t blink.

Dorothee vanishes into the crowd, and I close the distance between me and the two people who destroyed everything.

Damian sees me coming. He moves before I’m even within reach, stepping between Rosalina and me like a shield. Like I’m dangerous. Like he needs to protect her from me.

I don’t hesitate. My palm connects with his cheek in a crack that stops the world.

The room goes dead silent.

Every eye turns toward us—toward the Luna of the pack, the perfect hostess, striking her chosen mate across the face.

Damian reels back a step, blinking in disbelief. He doesn’t look angry—just stunned. Like it’s unimaginable that I would be the one to break the illusion. To ruin the pretty picture.

I don’t give him a second to recover.

“So that’s it, huh?” I spit, loud enough for all to hear. “She bats her lashes, sheds a few tears, and you throw yourself in front of her like a knight in shining armor?”

Murmurs ripple across the room like rising smoke. I take a step closer, venom in every word.

“She came into my home, stole my mates, and now I’m the one who needs to be contained? You think that’s not enough dishonor? You think I also deserve to be accused of attempted murder in my own house?”

A collective gasp echoes through the ballroom. The silence that follows is heavier than stone.

“I have done everything,” I say, voice rising, cracking. “Everything you two asked of me. For her. I gave her my room. My place at your side. Your hearts. I gave everything, and I did it with grace. For the sake of the pack. For the title. For peace.”

My voice breaks on the last word, splintering with the weight of three years of swallowed pain. With the weight of my own murder, at their hands.

“And still… it wasn’t enough.”

My breath trembles. There are tears at the corners of my eyes—but I refuse to let them fall. Not here. Not now.

“Well,” I say, straightening, steadying.

“I’m done.”