53: Don’t belong

Alora’s POV

As we stepped into the ballroom, the lights seemed brighter, the air heavier with chatter and the low hum of laughter. My eyes blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the sheer number of people packed into the large, grand room.

The space was a whirl of colors, elegant gowns, perfectly tailored suits, shimmering jewelry, and glowing skin, all blending together in a dizzying swirl of movement.

We stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at the crowd of pack members who were laughing, talking, and enjoying themselves in the splendor of the evening. Each person was dressed in their finest, and despite the luxurious atmosphere, a tension simmered beneath the surface.

Rune stood beside me, his presence commanding as always. It was no wonder that people paused in their conversations and glanced up at us. They were drawn to him, as if his very presence demanded attention.

I felt his grip on my hand loosen, and a moment later, he let go entirely, distancing himself. Of course,