Third Person's POV The old evidence might have been destroyed, but it no longer mattered. Celestine's theft of "Chasing the Wind" was now undisputed-etched into the collective mind of the packs. The moment the truth surfaced, wolves instinctively filled in the missing pieces of the earlier, buried incident. Her fate was sealed. Celestinewould forever hang on the pillar of pack-wide disgrace. For every moment of triumph she once savored-shielded by the Moonvale Pack's protection-tonight delivered double the retribution. And it was merciless. Julia's gaze drifted toward Celestine, whose limbs had gone limp as she finally surrendered to the enforcers' escort. This woman had always been ruthless to outsiders-yet even more vicious to her own blood. From their brief interactions, Julia had sensed that Aysel was no amateur. But she had never imagined the girl carried such a past. As a fellow dancer, she understood all too well the worth of being chosen-at such a young age-by someone like Giovanna. It was the kind of recognition wolves fought lifetimes for. What a waste. She watched Celestine being led away. In the end, all debts of good and evil were paid. And Celestine's reckoning had finally arrived. But the ones who suffered almost as much as Celestine herself... were the Moonvale wolves-who had strutted in triumphant earlier that night. They had thought Celestine's brilliant performance would help salvage their collapsing reputation. They barely tasted a single minute of relief before everything shattered. The moment it came to light that the stolen choreography had belonged to Giovanna's niece, the Moonvale elders found themselves unable to defend Celestine. Worse-their past indulgence suddenly branded them as accomplices in the making of a thief. Damon withdrew his hand from Celestine's grip the moment Giovanna finished recounting the truth. The secrets he had helped bury-wilfully or unknowingly-were being unearthed one by one, each more damning than the last. Standing beside Celestine now felt like the punchline to a cruel joke. The crowd spilled out from the theater, hungry for more. Tonight's performance had been spectacular-but the gossip that followed was even better. Wolves filed out of the hall, unable to resist the instinct to follow the enforcers escorting Celestine toward the open-air parking grounds. Even the most dignified among them moved with covert excitement, determined to witness the fall to its very last moment. The audience behaved with some restraint. The reporters, however, had no such limitations. They swarmed like bees drawn to fresh blood-honey, shoving microphones close enough to brush Celestine's lips. "Miss Ward, aside from Chasing the Wind and the choreography from the Moonvale trials, what else have you stolen?" "Miss Ward, were you responsible for the car crash involving the second Moonvale daughter?" "Miss Ward, how do you respond to accusations that you were rescued by the Moonvale Pack only to betray their trueborn heir?" "Miss Ward, Master Sophia of the northern academies announced that every international troupe she knows will permanently blacklist you. Are you planning to retire from the dance world?" Meanwhile, the Moonvale elders and Damon faced an equally ferocious pack of questioning wolves. "Mr. Blackwood, now that Miss Ward is implicated in theft and attempted murder, will your engagement continue?" "Mr. Blackwood, rumors say you abandoned the childhood-bonded second daughter of Moonvale to pursue her elder sister. Do you regret it now?" "Alpha Remus, Luna Evelyn-what was your reasoning when you helped your adopted daughter seize the birth daughter's choreography?" "Did you know about the assassination attempt? Did the Moonvale Pack offer her assistance?" The voices poured over them like a flood, threatening to drown anyone caught in its path. Celestine kept her head bowed, lips pressed tightly shut. The enforcers hadn't shackled her-only requested cooperation. Yet she felt like a wolf already condemned. The fury that once filled her had drained away, leaving only raw, gnawing terror. It was over. Everything was over. Her carefully crafted persona, her coveted stage, and even the affection and position she had schemed for years to obtain... All of it slipped through her claws. Compared to tonight, the humiliation of her birthday scandal was nothing more than a warm-up dish before the true feast. In the crush of bodies, someone shoved forward. Celestine lost her footing and crashed onto the pavement-hard. Flash after flash erupted. Hungry lenses captured the once-celebrated prodigy sprawled in the dirt like a fallen fledgling wolf. Voices blurred into a buzzing haze. Faces smeared into vague shadows. She longed to faint-but remained painfully conscious. As she lifted her head, she saw-through the narrow gap between wolves-the sleek black car parked ahead. The rear window slid halfway down. Under the warm gold streetlamp, the fractured light carved a half-lit silhouette of the wolf inside.Aysel looked directly at her. And smiled. Then, clearly, deliberately, she mouthed two words: "You.Lost."