Even the portrait that used to hang by the main hearth—the one where I cradled her swollen belly—had been replaced with a new image. Her, Dorian, and the pup. A perfect family portrait.
In that photograph, Selene Valeheart was smiling radiantly.
More beautifully than she had smiled on our mating day.
I went to the sleeping chamber, intending to pack the few garments I had brought before our bond was sealed.
But no matter how thoroughly I searched the storage chests, I couldn't find the hand-stitched ceremonial suit my mother had made for me before she passed.
I was about to call and ask when I saw a new image on the pack message board—Dorian wearing that very suit at the First Moon Feast.
Rage boiled through my veins like molten silver.
I called for a transport and rushed to the feast hall. There he stood, one arm supporting Selene, both of them laughing graciously as pack members showered them with praise and congratulations.
When Selene spotted me, guilt flickered across her face—but beneath it lay a smug satisfaction, as if she had expected this all along.
She released Dorian Frostclaw from her embrace and strode toward me.