Third Person's POV Just like Ivy, who was collapsing under the weight of her own fate, Luna Blackwood was on the verge of losing her mind as well. Her son had gone out on a single trip-and returned with a wife. Staring at the two marriage certificates on the table, their covers stamped in glaring crimson like freshly sealed blood contracts, she clenched her jaw and glared at Damon Blackwood. "I sent you to expand our alliances, to court noble she-wolves from powerful packs," she snapped. "And this is what you brought back?" Across from her, Alpha Blackwood-Damon's father-had gone numb. He had always known it. Sooner or later, this son of his would fall straight into Celestine Ward's trap. Damon lowered his head, standing perfectly still as he endured his parents' disappointment-and Quentin's barely concealed schadenfreude. He seemed disconnected from the world around him, as if sound and sight no longer reached him. The moment the mating registration had been finalized, it was as though iron chains had wrapped around his soul. He knew it with chilling clarity: for the rest of his life, he would never escape Celestine's mark. Celestine smiled and looped her arm possessively through Damon's, her fingers tight, territorial. "Father, Mother," she said sweetly, "we'll leave the wedding arrangements to you." Mrs. Blackwood's restraint finally shattered. She flung her teacup to the floor, porcelain exploding like bone under force. "Whoever approved this farce can prepare it themselves. I won't be involved." Alpha Blackwood rose as well, his face cold. "A daughter-in-law who's been imprisoned brings shame to the Blackwood Pack. We can't afford that disgrace." Celestine's expression twisted. How ironic. The Blackwood elders had once praised her endlessly-her pedigree, her obedience, her usefulness. Now, they looked at her as if she were filth beneath their paws. The reversal was worse than outright hatred. But no matter what, she had to secure her place in the Blackwood Pack. After the public fallout at Luna Evelyn's birthday feast-when blades had been drawn openly-Celestine had already left the Moonvale Pack, renting a small apartment on her own. It was cramped, suffocating, nothing like the sprawling estates she had grown up in. Worse still, her resources were drying up. The money she had once siphoned endlessly was now finite. Every coin spent was gone for good. She needed the title of Blackwood Luna-to-be. There was another shadow pressing on her chest: Fenrir would eventually discover that she had sold the patent to a rival pack. When that happened, he would come for her. She needed the Blackwood Pack's protection. Once the elders left, Celestine dropped the act entirely and turned to Damon, her eyes sharp and demanding. "We must hold a wedding." A union without public acknowledgment was meaningless. Without witnesses, without celebration, how could she walk among the packs with her head held high? Damon let out a low, broken laugh. Ever since disembarking from the ship, he had looked like a dead wolf-his spirit gutted. Celestine's irritation flared. She had been counting on him to restore his Alpha prestige, to make her the most envied Luna in the eastern territories. "Damon Blackwood!" she snapped. "What is that attitude?!" Without a word, Damon pulled a bank card from his pocket and flicked it toward her. It struck her cheek. "If you want it," he said flatly, "do it yourself." He looked at her contorted expression and laughed again, hollow and sharp. "Isn't this what you wanted? Not enough?" He took out several more cards and tossed them at her feet. "Take them. Take everything."Then he staggered away, unshaven, eyes bloodshot, grabbing another bottle of red wine from the table as he left. Behind them, Quentin, who had enjoyed the entire spectacle, sauntered over with a grin and draped an arm around Celestine's shoulder. "Didn't my brother say it already?" he said lazily. "Handle it yourself, Sister-in-Law. Don't worry-I'll fully support you. I'll make sure to prepare a very generous gift on the wedding day." Celestine slapped his hand away in disgust. Quentin only laughed, utterly unbothered, and soon left to find company for the night. He had been right all along. Celestine Ward was Damon Blackwood's bane. The Damon who had once stood proud beside Aysel Vale-sharp, driven, radiant with Alpha vitality-was gone. In just two days and one night, he had been dragged back into ruin. Quentin twirled his car keys as he left, humming cheerfully. Crippling his greatest rival had taken almost no effort at all. Upstairs, Celestine discovered that Damon had moved all his belongings into the guest room. Furious, she pounded on the door. From inside came only a drunk, impatient voice. "What more do you want?" He knew exactly what she expected from him. And he refused to give it. If she insisted on dragging him into this bond, then they would sink together. Standing in the hallway, staring at the man who now looked nothing like the elegant Alpha who had once commanded ballrooms and battlefields alike, Celestine tightened her grip on the bank cards in her hand. No one believed in her. So she would prove them wrong. She would host a wedding so grand that every pack would watch in envy.Damon Blackwood-this union, this conquest-was her longest war, her greatest investment, and her most beautiful victory over Aysel. She would not allow it to end in quiet disgrace.