Farah came too, draped in emerald silk, her glossy hair braided with moonflowers. She looked radiant. Ethan didn’t hide the way he admired her. The way his eyes trailed her every movement.
We arrived at the venue, a towering hall lit by chandeliers and filled with the scent of power and polished silver. Alphas from across the region mingled in tailored suits, their Lunas standing gracefully beside them. When we entered, the host—a thickly built Alpha from Granite Ridge—approached us with a warm smile.
“Alpha Ethan, Luna Ivy—how lovely to see you again.”
Before I could even return the greeting, Ethan corrected him.
“She’s not my Luna,” he said quickly, gesturing toward me with barely a glance. “This is Farah—daughter of the Snowland Pack.”
The host blinked in confusion, then quickly recovered with a courteous nod. “Of course.”
I said nothing. Not a flicker of pain showed on my face. But inside, I felt something wither.
He didn’t even call me by title. Just my name. Like I was no more than a former acquaintance tagging along.
We sat at our table, and I tried to swallow the bitterness building in my throat. My wolf stirred uncomfortably in my chest, restless, angry, humiliated.