Third Person's POV "Moon curse take him - how shameless can he get!" the doll-faced young she-wolf burst out. The other females turned, eyes blazing, their wolves snarling in shared disgust. None of them wanted to be the next Sophia Holland - betrayed, forgotten, her bloodline wiped from the records. John Wilson had cast away his mate's name to crawl up the ranks of his Pack, and now his grandson Alan Wilson - no, Alan Holland - carried that cursed blood with pride. Aysel stood quietly amid the uproar, her lips curved in the faintest smile. It was satisfying, in a cold way, to watch the pack's daughters tear into Alan with righteous fury. By dawn, his true name - and his shame - would spread through every Pack Court in the eastern territories. Alan's face drained of color, his wolf scent souring with panic. He was finished. His grandfather had brought him tonight to parade him before the elite, to find a mate worthy of the Wilsons' false pedigree. But after this? No Alpha or Luna worth their bloodline would offer a daughter to a traitor's heir. To the aristocracy of the wolf realms, honor was thicker than blood. A wolf who turned his back on lineage carried a stench no rank could mask. He fled the hall, humiliated. Across the ballroom, through the circle of whispering she-wolves, Celestine met Aysel's gaze. Both understood it instantly - Celestine's second weapon was gone. Her first rumor had failed, and now her second had collapsed before she could draw breath. Celestine inhaled sharply, then smoothed her expression, murmuring a graceful farewell before retreating toward another cluster of nobles. Her wolf was calculating, patient. Some blades dulled with use - the sharper ones she saved for last. Upstairs, Lykos pressed a cold compress to his bruised cheek. Luna Evelyn had tended him for a while before returning to the garden with Alpha Remus to greet the guests. On her way back, she stopped to tell Aysel she'd retrieved the lost bracelet and given it to the steward. But Remus - ever the fox - had moved the "gift exchange and cake-cutting" to after the official announcement of the betrothal. He'd even ordered Aysel and Damon to stand together on stage for the ceremony, warning her to behave. Aysel only smiled and nodded, obedient as a lamb. It unsettled the elder Alpha more than any defiance. Her silence had the weight of thunder before a storm. He eyed her suspiciously. In his plans, she should've caused a scene by now. He didn't believe for a moment she'd stopped caring for Damon - her childhood bondmate, the Eastern Alpha every young she-wolf adored. But after her recent outbursts, Remus feared what chaos she might unleash next.He ordered servants to watch her closely. Aysel's smile sharpened. "If you're so afraid this alliance will fall apart," she murmured, "perhaps you should keep an eye on Celestine and Damon instead." Remus glared at her. "Don't disgrace yourself by dragging your sister and your betrothed into your madness." She tilted her head, amusement flickering. They had all but forced her mate-to-be into Celestine's orbit under the pretext of "healing rituals" and "shared training." If that wasn't disgrace, what was? Still, she played the docile daughter, waiting. When the time came, Alpha Remus climbed the dais, microphone in hand, his voice echoing through the hall. "Tonight," he declared, "I have the honor of announcing a union that will strengthen the bond between Moonvale and Blackwood-" He paused, expecting two figures to step forward. But only one stood there - Aysel, arms folded, expression serene, her wolf purring with dark satisfaction. Across the floor, Luna Evelyn frowned beside Fenrir, while the Blackwood elders whispered urgently with a servant, their faces paling by the second. Damon Blackwood - the night's celebrated groom - had vanished. Remus's heart sank. He swept his gaze across the sea of Alphas, Betas, and nobles, searching for the Eastern Alpha's tall frame. He found nothing - but realization struck like lightning. Celestine was gone too. For a long, dreadful moment, the hall froze. Then murmurs began, low and sharp as claws unsheathed. "Did the Blackwood Alpha just run from his own mating ceremony?" "I heard the last time his coronation, he disappeared halfway through as well-" "They said he and Aysel were quarreling... something about Celestine Ward-" "Wouldn't be the first time. I saw him shield Celestine once during a patrol- shoved Aysel aside to do it-" "Spirits, no wonder she lost her temper!" The gossip thickened like smoke. Some defended the golden Luna, others condemned the jilted daughter of Moonvale, but all eyes turned toward the stage - where Aysel stood motionless under the chandelier's glow, the only one untouched by panic. Remus's carefully rehearsed speech died in his throat. His authority wavered, the air around him heavy with tension. Whatever excuses he might invent - illness, accident, delay - no one would believe them. Somewhere outside, wolves howled. The scent of storm rolled in from the mountains. And Aysel smiled, the curve of her lips like the edge of a blade. The game had only just begun.