Draven's eyes narrowed as he saw the blood. His hand twitched, as if to touch my lip—then he turned away.
He loosened his collar and muttered coldly,
“Ella, you’re no longer the precious daughter of a noble bloodline of powerful wolves. Who are you putting on this pathetic act for? Stop acting like a tragic Luna. No one’s watching.”
The moment the private pack doctor arrived, Alpha Draven stalked toward him. His shoulder slammed into mine without a glance, the force sending me stumbling back.
I caught my breath, straightened my spine, and turned to leave.
Outside the packhouse, Alpha Draven's Beta waited, his posture stiff, eyes downcast. He’d been standing guard for a long time.
I quickened my pace, needing space—air.
But before I reached him, two hands, strong as iron, grabbed my arms and yanked me back.
“Alpha Draven requests your presence,” Draven's loyal warrior growled, his voice as emotionless as stone.
I didn’t resist. There was no point.
In the study, Alpha Draven stood by the hearth, casually buttoning his dark shirt, the moonlight catching on the Alpha insignia sewn into the collar. His movements were controlled, cold.