Third Person's POV Time slipped by beneath a strange, suffocating tension, like a sky heavy with storm clouds that refused to break. Before anyone realized it, the day of Celestine and Damon's mating ceremony arrived. Their invitations never reached Magnus and Celestine did not dare allow Aysel anywhere near the ceremony. If Aysel truly appeared, given Damon's instability and Alpha pride warped by obsession, he might very well revoke the bond on the spot. Celestine would never allow that. Of course, Aysel herself had no interest in attending. But she did enjoy watching chaos from afar. So Magnus simply bought off the ceremonial recording pack. What was meant to be a commemorative mating video quietly transformed into a full, unrestricted live broadcast of the entire event. Inside the Shadowbane estate, the villa's living hall glowed warmly. Magnus personally arranged everything Aysel favored-fresh-cut fruit, small snacks, chilled yogurt, and grapefruit juice-neatly laid across the low table. The massive wall screen displayed the ceremonial grounds of the Blackwood Pack's mating hall. Magnus sat pressed close beside Aysel on the sofa. After a few moments, even that proximity failed to satisfy him. With a lazy reach, he hooked an arm around her waist and lifted her effortlessly from where she had been idly stroking Rafe's fur, pulling her straight into his arms. He adjusted his posture, locking her securely against his chest, until his wolf finally settled. Only then did he relax, holding her comfortably. Aysel nestled against his chest, watching wolves in ceremonial attire drift across the screen. She popped a grape into her mouth, then tilted her head and kissed Magnus lightly beneath his jaw. Magnus chuckled, squeezing her fingers before returning the kiss with far more heat. The ceremony had not yet begun. There were far better ways to pass the time. ... Inside the preparation chamber, after dismissing the attendants, Celestine snatched the liquor bottle from Damon's hand and smashed it viciously against the stone wall."Damon Blackwood! Do you even know what day this is?" The scent of alcohol flooded the room. Before the ceremonial toasts had even begun, he was already drunk beyond control. Such open decay-who was he trying to provoke? Damon cast her a cold glance and laughed hollowly. "You wanted a mating bond," he said. "Didn't I agree? What more do you want from me?" Her rage surged violently. She nearly raised her hand to strike him, but restrained herself at the thought of witnesses. "Yes," she snapped. "Since you agreed, then play your role properly. If you hated this so much, you should have rejected me from the start." Damon curled his lips in bitter self-mockery and reached for more alcohol. Celestine watched him grasp the door handle. "Damon Blackwood," she said suddenly, her voice eerily calm, "I wouldn't mind turning today's ceremonial footage into a private mating recording of the Blackwood Alpha heir." He froze. She sneered softly. Already prepared to be vile-yet still unable to discard his pride, his shame, his precious Alpha dignity. That was Damon Blackwood. "You're not afraid people would recognize the other participant?" he asked coldly. Celestine sat before the mirror, adjusting her veil. "I only kept your parts," she said calmly. "And even if they knew-so what? My leg is broken. My dreams are gone. I've worn prison chains. I'm not afraid of sinking into the deepest mud. Are you?" She met his reflection. "Damon Blackwood. If you want today to pass without incident, then I expect to see a smiling groom." He stood motionless for a long time-then slammed the door and left. Celestine knew then that he had yielded. She stared at her reflection: flawless bridal paint, ceremonial white garments, prepared to bond with the man she had dreamed of throughout her entire maidenhood-yet her eyes held no joy.Forcing her lips upward, she whispered to herself: "Celestine Ward, you are still the final victor." ... Even with all her efforts, the ceremony could not be perfected. Celestine had no birth pack, no allies, and Damon offered no cooperation. The formal bride-fetching rite was canceled entirely. Despite her invitations, far fewer guests arrived than she had expected. The Blackwood Pack was already declining, and neither of the bonded wolves held a good reputation. Those present were mostly insignificant pack leaders, minor business wolves, or younger heirs sent by families unwilling-or unable-to refuse outright. The Moonvale Pack attended. Not as Celestine's kin-but as old acquaintances of the Blackwood pair. Luna Evelyn stared at the opulent ceremonial backdrop, dazed. The adopted daughter she had nurtured regarded her as an enemy. Her biological daughter had severed all ties. The joyful scene she once imagined-sending her daughter into a glorious bond-was forever unreachable. When Aysel mated in the future, she would likely have no right to even stand at the threshold. Fenrir had no energy to comfort his grieving mother. His gaze remained locked on his communicator, fingers moving as if in urgent exchange. The ceremonial music swelled. The bonded pair finally entered. Guests turned as one. Fenrir lifted his eyes from the screen, joining the Moonvale Pack in looking toward the entrance.