I pushed past the sentries guarding the entrance. Their growls rose in protest, but I ignored them. My boots struck the marble floor like thunder as I stormed through the crowd, my vision narrowing on the stage.
On them.
Brexon stood in the center—broad-shouldered, commanding, radiating Alpha dominance in a black ceremonial cloak embroidered with silver runes. At his side, Lyssa—his former mate—stood draped in a blood-red gown that shimmered under the moon crystals. Her arm curled around his like she owned him. She glowed. She smiled.
As if she hadn’t stolen everything from me.
As if my pup wasn’t still warm in my memory.
Rage roared up my spine, primal and uncontrollable.
I didn’t think.
I shifted forward—fast.
My claws dug into Lyssa’s cheek with a sharp crack that sliced through the ballroom. Gasps erupted as her head snapped to the side, her eyes widening before she quickly masked the expression.
“Arwen.” Brexon’s voice cut through the air—a warning growl. Sharp. Cold.
But I wasn’t done.
“How dare you?” My voice shook, my wolf pacing beneath my skin. “You stand here celebrating while my daughter—our daughter—rests in sacred ground?”