Chapter 4

Three Years Later…

A week before our mating ceremony, I overheard Damien speaking with his Beta. "Alpha, there are other ways to claim control over the Silvercrest pack. Is marrying Selene really necessary? If she finds out the truth, it could be dangerous." Damien exhaled sharply. "This is the only way to make her lower her guard.

Florence deserves to rightfully inherit the Silvercrest name. If I have to involve myself, so be it. For her, I will do anything." My breath hitched.

The salvation I had clung to—the mate bond I had convinced myself was real—was nothing but a carefully laid trap.

I pressed myself against the wall, my wolf trembling in rage and betrayal. Damien’s voice was calm, almost affectionate. "Luna Eleanor won’t last much longer. Selene will insist on having her at the ceremony, but once she’s gone, the Silvercrest pack will be weak. She will have no choice but to rely on me. That’s when I will strike." The Beta hesitated.

"Are you sure about this, Alpha? Florence is just an omega-born bastard. Isn’t this too cruel to Selene? Over the past three years, she has fallen for you." Damien’s voice turned cold. "Do not call her a bastard again. Florence is the rightful second daughter of the Silvercrest family. And Selene…"

He let out a sigh, as if I were nothing more than a burden. "Marrying her is a form of compensation. Even when the Silvercrest pack falls, she will still have me. Her life won’t be difficult." The Beta still looked uneasy. "Your brother—" "

Arthur always loved competing with me. Now that Florence has chosen him, I will make sure their future is secure. As for me… I don’t matter." My claws dug into my palms.

The bond between us, the years we had spent together, had all been a lie. The lawyer sighed. "I’ll finalize the agreement. Just… make sure you won’t regret this." "Oh, and delete the video from the funeral three years ago," Damien added as an afterthought. "Selene can never find out it wasn’t Arthur who leaked it."

My heart turned to ice. The video that ruined my life—the betrayal I had blamed Arthur for—hadn’t been his doing.

It was Damien’s. The man who swore to protect me, to stand by my side, had orchestrated it all. He had never been my savior. He had been the executioner, waiting for the right moment to deliver the final blow.

The footsteps in the hall grew louder. I swallowed my panic and hurried back to my room. The hot tea I had been carrying spilled onto my hands, but I barely felt the burn. I had spent the last three years believing in a mate bond that never existed. I had trusted him with my pack, my mother’s dying wish, my heart. I had been a fool.

The sound of a door clicking shut signaled the lawyer’s departure. A moment later, Damien entered. His scent, laced with the faint bitterness of alcohol, filled the space. He found me standing by the door, his golden eyes softening. "Why are you just standing there?"

I forced a smile, masking the rage boiling beneath my skin. "I was bringing you tea, but I spilled it." He stepped forward, cupping my face with warm hands, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "You’re too good to me." I closed my eyes, suppressing the urge to rip him apart. Soon, Damien. Very soon, I would return the favor.