The ballroom glitters with crystal chandeliers, their light refracting in a thousand directions, casting a golden glow over the polished marble floor.
The music swells, a slow, lilting melody that fills the space, elegant and haunting,
Wolves from every pack mingle at the edges of the dance floor, their laughter and conversation blending into a low hum that underscores the scene.
Here we are, moving in perfect, prácticed steps, a royal couple to all appearances.
Raiden’s hand rests lightly at my waist, his fingers barely touching me, as though even this minimal contact is too much. His other hand clasps mine with the practiced precision of someone who’s been trained to waltz since childhood, but his grip is impersonal, distant.
I tilt my head slightly, looking up at him, but his gaze is fixed somewhere over my shoulder, distant and unreadable.
He’s silent, unusually so, and yet his presence feels heavy, like a weight pressing against my chest. The formal dance demands closeness, a cruel mockery of intimacy, and the space between us–though barely a breath–feels like an unbridgeable chasm.
My wolf paces anxiously beneath my skin, her growls low and restless. She’s been like this all night, ever since the council
session.
Ever since Raiden defended me.
It was the first time in years that he hadn’t publicly undermined me, hadn’t stripped me of any scrap of dignity I managed to hold onto. And yet, his words still felt like an anomaly, a crack in the carefully constructed narrative I’ve built around him. Around us. Around this sham of a bond.
I try to focus on the steps, on the way my dress swishes softly with each turn, but my mind keeps circling back to the same question.
Lila’s mark.
That perfect crescent on her neck that shouldn’t exist if Raiden truly belonged to me. My wolf snarls at the thought, her instincts sharp and unrelenting. She insists it’s wrong. That the mark is false, somehow.
But how? How could that possibly be?
“Siena,” Raiden says suddenly, his voice low and measured, breaking the heavy silence between us. My breath catches as he looks down at me, his eyes dark and intent. “Was that proposal really yours?”
The question hits me like a blow, and for a moment, I falter, my steps stuttering. But I recover quickly, forcing myself to meet his gaze. His eyes are sharp, piercing, as though he’s trying to peel away the layers of my skin to find the truth underneath.
My heart pounds against my ribs, but I keep my expression calm, steady.
“Yes,” I say, my voice clear like the crashing of glass plates. “I built upon materials my father left behind, but the implementation strategy and resource allocation models are mine.”
I wait for the disbelief, for the dismissal that’s become so familiar over the years. I brace myself for the cutting remark, the condescending smirk, the way he always finds a way to diminish me, to remind me that in his eyes, I’ll never be enough.
But it doesn’t come.
Chapter 27
Instead, he studies me with an intensity that makes my pulse quicken.
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His eyes search mine, as though he’s looking for something he doesn’t want to find. For a heartbeat, I see something flicker in his expression—something raw and unguarded.
Confusion
Vulnerability.
Perhaps even regret.
Raiden’s POV
