The grand hall was a display of opulence and excess, the air thick with the mingling scents of wolves from all corners of the region. Celeste was waiting near the hearth, a glass of wine in hand, her golden hair cascading down her back like a goddess descended from the heavens. She saw us immediately, her lips curving into a smug smile.
“Ayla,” she purred, stepping forward. “You made it. How... unexpected.”
“Celeste,” I replied, matching her tone. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Her gaze dropped to my rain-soaked jeans and bloody forehead. “Oh dear, you’ve had quite the journey. Shall I have someone bring you something more... appropriate?”
“Don’t trouble yourself,” I said, brushing past her. “I’m perfectly comfortable.”
The room fell into a tense hush as I moved deeper into the crowd, Lukas trailing behind me. The pack members parted, their eyes darting between us with poorly concealed curiosity. They were waiting for the show, the inevitable clash.
But I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. Not yet.