The ride to the pack retreat was suffocating. Lukas had fallen into his usual silence, his hands gripping the steering wheel as though it might shatter beneath his force. I sat rigidly, staring out at the rain-soaked trees blurring past the window. My wolf paced inside me, restless and simmering with rage.
Celeste’s voice still echoed in my head. Mistress. The audacity of it.
“You’ll need to change before we arrive,” Lukas said, breaking the silence. His tone was curt, as though he were speaking to a subordinate rather than his mate. “There’s a dress in the backseat.”
I turned my head slowly to look at him. “Celeste’s, I assume?”
His jaw tightened, and he didn’t answer. That was confirmation enough.
I reached back, my fingers brushing over the expensive silk. It reeked of her perfume—overpowering, sickly sweet, and utterly revolting. “I’m not wearing this,” I said, dropping it onto the floor like the trash it was.
“Ayla,” Lukas growled, his Alpha dominance bleeding into his tone. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Harder for who? You, Lukas? Or your precious Celeste? Do you think this little display will fool anyone? They already know.”