Chapter 12

Dorothee throws open the doors before Rosalina can muster a reply.

The crowd surges in, a river of silk, velvet, and jewels. Every guest seems determined to outshine the others, draped in fabrics so rich and frivolous they might as well bleed gold. This celebration isn’t just tradition—it’s a parade of strength. A reminder to every ally and rival that the Moonlit Pack lacks nothing.

I spot her almost immediately—an aging Luna with two massive Irish Wolfhounds at her heels, sweeping through the hall like a queen, her Alpha a step behind her. His roguish smirk isn’t for the crowd. It’s for her. His gaze rakes her body with unrepentant hunger, as if she’s still the girl he first claimed under a harvest moon.

Emily and Kylean Silver Moon. 

My mother's old leaders.

I never ran with their pack, but my blood stirs at the sight of them, thrumming in my veins, recognizing a bond older than memory. I brace myself, waiting for Corneille to surge forward, desperate to bridge the divide I've built between us. But the cold wall around my heart holds steady.

I can't afford to falter now. Not when this is my last shot at freedom.

Familiar faces blur through the sea of guests. Alphas and Lunas I’ve met a hundred times at gatherings like this one. They catch sight of me atop the stairs and offer small nods of respect. But when their eyes slide to Rosalina, confusion blooms. They expected her here—but not at my side. Not at the side of the Alphas still tethered to me by every bond that matters.

I see it, clear as day—the fracture between the old and the new. Some Lunas look at Rosalina with thinly veiled contempt, others with smug satisfaction, like a prophecy fulfilled. A clear divide: those who still believe in the power of chosen bonds, and those who bow to the cruelty of fate.

I let none of it touch me. Instead, my gaze sweeps the hall, searching for two faces.

One I know.

One I need to know.

I spot the first easily enough.

Alpha Dereck Scarlet River stands alone, already staring at me with the kind of hunger that can’t be mistaken. Good.

I made sure to hint at my... interest when I sent his invitation. Judging by the gleam in his eyes, he’s ready to play.

One possible ally secured.

But the second face—the crimson-clad stranger—remains elusive.

If he was here in my last life, surely fate will bring him again. And when he does, I’ll corner him. I’ll find out who he is and why there’s no trace of him in any record.

Before I can slip away to greet the guests myself, Damian steps forward. Rosalina clings neatly to his arm, her golden hair and bashful smiles painting the perfect portrait of innocence.

He raises his voice, the room stilling in anticipation.

"Friends, allies—welcome to the Eclipse Celebration. It is an honor for the Moonlit Clan to host this gathering and to celebrate strength, unity, and the blessings of the Moon. Alpha Lucian and I wish you all a memorable evening, and we look forward to deepening the bonds we share."

Polite applause sweeps through the hall.

I arch a brow. No mention of Rosalina. How very convenient.

My gaze shifts to Lucian, still lingering behind, his face carved in cold detachment. Unreadable. Unreachable.

Until he moves.

He steps forward, his fingers brushing Rosalina’s other arm in a gesture too careful to be casual. His voice cuts through the air.

"As some of you may have heard," Lucian says, steady and sure, "the Moon has blessed the Moonlit Clan with a fated mate. Tonight, we introduce her to you—not as a stranger, but as family. Please welcome Rosalina with kindness and respect."

A ripple of surprise skitters through the crowd.

I stay where I am, face serene, heart hammering in my chest.

In my past life, I did everything to keep up appearances—smiling, nodding, pretending we weren’t breaking apart at the seams the night Rosalina was introduced.

Not this time.

I sneer openly at their pathetic display, pivoting on my heel to descend the stairs. I don’t spare them a glance.

Let them feel it. Let them know.

The moment my feet hit the marble floor, a wave of sympathetic Lunas closes in around me, pulling me from the orbit of my so-called mates. Their condolences come swift and sharp, disguised as flattery.

Poor Nara.

Such strength, such grace, still standing after such a public humiliation.

I indulge them with thin smiles and carefully chosen words—offering just enough veiled insults to satisfy their thirst for blood, while never once tarnishing the Moonlit Pack itself. I speak of our warriors’ unwavering loyalty, the rivers of gold still filling our coffers, the alliances still standing strong.

They nod approvingly, their admiration palpable.

And when the conversation inevitably turns to Rosalina, I laugh with them—sweet and effortless—as they pick apart her appearance, her background, her every flaw.

It takes less than ten minutes.

They already hate her.

Across the room, I catch a glimpse of Rosalina. She’s been swept up just as neatly—by Alphas and Lunas who worship the mate bond like gospel.

Of course.

I let the crowd pull me deeper into the game.

I float from one conversation to another, every smile perfectly placed, every comment a subtle cut. Everyone wants to know:

Will she stay? Will she be crowned Luna? Will I step aside—or will I fight?

They prod and pry, looking for cracks in my armor.

I give them none.

Only the faint glimmer of resentment, sharp and undeniable, glinting beneath my polished surface.

I lose track of time.

The crowd pushes me, pulls me, carries me upstairs into the grand ballroom. Servants weave through the guests with trays of champagne and delicate hors d'oeuvres. I accept a flute when it’s offered, sipping absently.

Maybe it’s my second. Maybe my third.

I don’t care.

At some point, I find myself standing before Dereck Scarlet River.

Or maybe he finds me.

Without a word, he sweeps me into a waltz just as the string quartet strikes up a low, seductive rhythm. Couples fall in around us, the ballroom shifting into a slow, gilded tide. 

I let Dereck guide me, my crimson dress blooming around me like a crown of blood on gold. He’s tall—taller than Lucian or Damian—towering over me with broad shoulders and a predator’s grin. His voice is a low rasp against my ear.

"I was pleasantly surprised by your invitation, Luna."

The heat of his breath fans my neck.

"I didn’t think a woman with two Alphas would have any interest in a man like me."

His hand slides lower on my back, fingers daring the edge of propriety.

I knew his reputation—knew to expect this. Still, revulsion rises in my throat.

He sees me as prey, not an equal.

Something to use.

But I can’t say I see him any differently. I push myself past the disgust.

I tip my head back just slightly, enough for my lips to brush the shell of his ear.

"It’s said you have the strength of five Alphas and the ambition of ten," I murmur sweetly. "I admire a man who knows how to take what he wants."

And who’s stupid enough to challenge the Moonlit twins.

He laughs, deep and rough, the sound vibrating against my skin. I endure it, endure the way his lips almost graze my neck. Barely two minutes into the dance, and he’s already too close, too eager.

Disgust curls low in my stomach.

I slip free, feigning a breathless laugh.

"You’ll have to excuse me," I say lightly. "I’m in desperate need of another drink."

He releases me reluctantly, dark eyes promising he’ll find me again before the night ends.

I duck away, weaving through the dancers, the champagne flute still clutched between my fingers.

My skin crawls where he touched me. This was supposed to be strategic. Calculated. But his hands on me felt wrong—dirty in a way no amount of planning could erase.

I slip through a side door leading to the service staircase, the noise of the ballroom dulling behind thick walls.

For a moment, it’s just me and the quiet.

I lean against the wall, inhaling slowly, willing the nausea away.

I need him. I need an escape. Dereck could be my way out.

But gods, I don’t know if I can stomach what it would take.

I close my eyes, steadying myself.

The Silver Moons, once a distant hope, are already lost. They were among the first to fawn over Rosalina tonight, their smiles wide and false. They won't help me.

I draw in another breath, preparing to rejoin the party—

When the door creaks open behind me.

I turn.

And there she is.

Rosalina.