That night, the pack held a small feast in my honor. Tables were lined with food, candles flickered, and the wolves of Moonveil celebrated my return with howls that echoed through the hills. I smiled politely, but inside I felt hollow.
Every laugh, every toast reminded me of what I had lost, of what had been stolen from me.
When the feast ended, I was called into my father’s office. The room smelled of oakwood and paper, exactly how I remembered it. My father sat behind his desk, my brother standing beside him, arms crossed. My mother sat near the fireplace, her face drawn with worry.
“Sit, Brielle,” Father said. His tone was calm, but I could hear the storm behind it.
I obeyed quietly.
“Tell us everything,” he said.
So I did.
From the moment Alpha Xavier left me at the altar, to the day I found him holding another woman, the way Victoria had mocked me, the humiliations I endured, and the betrayal.
By the time I finished, silence filled the room. My mother was crying silently. My brother’s fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
And my father’s eyes, cold and sharp, were filled with barely contained rage.