Chapter 6 She Likes You

Two female werewolves burst into cackles, shrill and cruel.

Leah lowered her gaze, her expression calm as she endured every mocking word.

Another young werewolf's voice joined in, laced with sarcasm. "I used to envy Leah so much. Thought she'd hit the jackpot landing Ethan. Turns out it wasn't luck at all—she was just a stepping stone. Ethan never cared about her. Three years at the Rourke Pack, and he probably never even looked at her twice."

Another snorted. "Did Ethan ever give her the treatment a pack mate deserves? A decent place to live? Public acknowledgment? Nothing. I've got family in Rourke Territory, and they say Ethan never ate at the same table with her, never took her anywhere. At pack gatherings, she was shoved to the farthest corner, treated no better than the lowest-ranking members."

"Then why does she keep clinging on and refusing to leave?"

"Leave? As if she'd give that up. Ethan's the Alpha of the Rourke Pack. Staying by his side means she's technically the Luna. Even if it's all a sham, at least she has that title to hide behind. If she went back to the Sinclair Pack, she'd have nothing—stuck living among the bottom-tier members. Of course she's going to cling to that empty status."

"She held on for three whole years, and in the end, she got tossed aside anyway. Left with nothing."

The laughter around her grew louder, thick with contempt.

Leah closed her eyes, drew a deep breath, then slowly exhaled.

She didn't step forward to argue.

There was no point. Everything they said was true—the reality of her three years. At the Rourke Pack, she had lived exactly like this: insignificant, powerless.

At that moment, the official pack banquet began.

"Ms. Sinclair."

A young attendant's voice came from beside her. Leah turned to look. The attendant's eyes held undisguised malice.

"What is it?" Leah's tone was flat.

The attendant's lips twisted into a mocking smile. "Ms. Chloe Sinclair stepped in some mud just now. She's asked you to come clean her shoes."

Leah followed the direction the attendant indicated.

Chloe was seated beside the head table, turning her head to look at her.

When their eyes met, Chloe flashed a sweet, harmless smile, as if genuinely delighted to see her. She raised her hand and waved lightly. Then she lifted her foot, revealing satin high-heeled boots with a bit of wet mud on the toe and heel—conspicuous against the fabric.

Every guest in the hall followed Chloe's gaze, their attention now fixed on Leah.

Leah stood still. Countless scrutinizing, mocking stares pierced her like needles.

"Hurry it up. Don't keep Ms. Chloe Sinclair waiting to take her seat," the attendant said impatiently, voice dripping with disdain. "You're good at this sort of thing anyway. You've been doing it since you were a kid, haven't you, Leah?"

Leah said nothing. She lifted her eyes toward the head table.

Marcus was watching the spectacle with a smile, his eyes cold and carrying a clear warning. His lips parted slightly, forming silent words.

Leah read his threat perfectly.

She lowered her gaze. Her clenched fists slowly relaxed.

"Fine."

She walked toward the main table, her steps light but weighted with oppression. Every eye in the hall followed her as she made her way to stand before Chloe.

Chloe looked up at her, her smile bright and blinding. "Leah, it's been so long. You look awful. Didn't you sleep last night?"

Leah didn't respond. She knelt down in silence.

She took the soft cloth the attendant handed her and lowered her head to the shoes, wiping away the mud bit by bit.

No one noticed the fine white powder trapped beneath Leah's nails drifting down onto Chloe's feet.

It was no deadly toxin, merely an irritant dust that brought on an unbearable itch.

She wondered how Chloe, the picture of proper ladylike grace, would hold her composure and endure that maddening tickle in such formal company.

"Leah, you've always been so thorough and meticulous," Chloe said with false intimacy. "No wonder Ethan always says you get things done efficiently."

Beside her, Ethan's previously impassive expression finally shifted.

His brow furrowed slightly, his amber eyes locked onto Leah kneeling on the ground.

Watching her bow her head, bend low, and scrub shoes in humiliation stirred an inexplicable discomfort deep in his chest.

Ethan's throat tightened.

Suddenly, he reached out and gripped Leah's wrist, stopping her movements.

Leah froze. She looked up at him, her grey-blue eyes brimming with defiance and unwillingness.

"That's enough. Stop," Ethan said, his voice low and heavy. "You're clumsy. You'll just ruin Chloe's shoes."

Leah stared into his eyes without a word.

She understood clearly—he was trying to give her a way out.

But he was doing it by humiliating her, putting her degradation on full display to end this farce.

And the disgust and impatience in his tone sounded so natural, as if it were a truth carved into his heart, unchanging.

"It's fine," Chloe interjected with a smile, gentle and magnanimous. "Leah's doing a great job. I'm very satisfied. Isn't that right, Leah?"

Leah slowly rose to her feet and handed the cloth back to the attendant. A cold, hollow smile tugged at her lips.

"It's nothing. I'm used to this sort of thing."

"Good." Chloe beamed sweetly, her tone affectionate. "Having a sister like you is such a blessing."

The guests at the table laughed in agreement, their eyes full of pity and condescending amusement, as if they'd just watched a satisfying show. Scattered, halfhearted applause followed.

Leah ignored the surrounding malice and asked calmly, "Chloe, may I leave now?"

It was a pointless question, of course—Chloe would never let slip such a perfect chance to humiliate her.

"Where are you going?" Chloe looked surprised, a flicker of hurt crossing her eyes. "We grew up together. We've only been apart three years, and you're already this distant with me?"

Leah frowned, ready to turn her down. Once the irritant dust kicked in, this spoiled young lady would surely take her frustration out on Leah again.

Though she could hardly blame her for it.

Chloe reached out and took hold of her wrist, smiling as she gestured for her to sit. "Don't you want me back? You won't even sit through one meal with me?"

Leah subtly pulled her hand free, her tone cold and detached. "My mother is waiting for me."

The words seemed to strike a nerve. Chloe's expression instantly dimmed, her voice tinged with melancholy. "Right. Of course. The bond between mother and child—it's something I'll never know."

Ethan's face darkened immediately. He reached out and clasped Chloe's hands protectively, his voice sharp as he rebuked Leah. "Leah, you're out of line. You know Chloe lost her mother when she was young, and you're deliberately rubbing salt in the wound."

Leah stared at him in disbelief. "I don't even have the right to mention my own mother?"

Chloe quickly blinked away the moisture in her eyes and said softly, "It's not your fault, Ethan. I'm just too sensitive. If Leah doesn't want to sit with me, I won't force her."

"She does want to," Ethan said coldly, turning his gaze to Leah. All trace of warmth vanished, leaving only a commanding tone. "Leah. Sit down."

His voice was hard and indifferent, as if ordering around a low-ranking pack member.