Mated to My Intended's Enemy
Without a word, we rushed from the bedroom and down the grand staircase, security scrambling to keep formation around us.
In the entrance hall, surrounded by shocked pack members, stood a ghost from my past. Her once-lustrous dark hair was now streaked with gray, her face lined with age and hardship, but there was no mistaking those cold, calculating eyes—the same eyes that had looked at me with disgust throughout my childhood.
Aurora Howlthorne,my father's presumed-dead Luna, Enzo's mother, and my tormentor—had returned from the grave.
Her gaze locked with mine as I descended the stairs, and beneath the theatrical grief, I caught a flash of something else—satisfaction. As if a carefully lai