Chapter 141
Riley’s POV
+8 Pearls
Five years ago, Scarlett was the star of the Moonfeast Ceremony. The pack’s golden girl. The treasured little princess of the Ebonclaw bloodline. And I was the dirty secret they locked away–the trueborn daughter cast out in favor of a wolf with prettier lies.
Now, five years later, the tides had turned.
Scarlett’s wrists were bound in wolfsilver cuffs, her face pale and streaked with mascara as the enforcers dragged her out of the banquet hall . Her screams rang in my ears like a long–awaited melody..
Beside her was Ronan Duskcliff, his usually proud jaw clenched shut by the stifling humiliation. The sock they’d gagged him with had been ripped out by one of the officers. As they passed, he shot me a look of stunned betrayal.
“Riley,” he growled , his voice raw with disbelief. “How could you turn into this? I’m so disappointed in you. Don’t expect my forgiveness.
Forgiveness?
I blinked slowly at him, my pulse as steady as stone. I had survived five years in the Iron Cells while he played Alpha’s golden heir and pretended my blood meant nothing. He watched me fall, and now he thought his forgiveness was a gift I should
crave!
What kind of delusion was that?
“Ronan,” I said, my voice low and cold, like the snow–tipped peaks of Winterhowl, “has anyone ever told you that you’re like a dying moonflower?”
I reached out and casually wiped my finger across the crimson wine that had bled onto the banquet tablecloth. The color reminded me of blood spilled unjustly. My blood.
“Still dressed in petals of nobility, trying so hard to shine. But at your core? You’ve already rotted.”
He flinched. Good.
Five years had turned me into something harder. Sharper. Stronger. While he remained a coward hiding behind the comfort of lies.
ay from him, uninterested in hearing another word . I’d wasted too many breaths on men like him.
I turned away
Out of the corner of my eye , I saw him glance at Lucien – Lucien Duskgravę, the Alpha Regent of Stormridge, now standing silently by my side. The tailored lines of his suit hugged his broad frame like armor. His presence was a blade sheathed in velvet, cold and elegant. Ronan’s gaze lingered on the way Lucien’s hand lightly brushed my lower back, protective. possessive, unapologetic.
Jealousy darkened Ronan’s face . I saw it–the fury that he’d lost something he thought was his, though he never truly claimed me, never truly saw me,
But he wasn’t part of my world anymore. He never had been.
The enforcers dragged him and Scarlett away , their protests falling on deaf ears No one in the banquet hall dared stop it. Not ater what Lucien had revealed. Not after what they had done to me
And just like
in the room slufted
Tengon melted Conversations cautiously resumed Heads turned in my direction–not with pity, but with reverence Awe The women stared at me like I was the herome of some ancient legend, the men gave Lucien wary, respectful nods: They’d all seen what power looked like–anal what it protected
Soon the gifs began flowing again, brought forw and in ornate boses lined with velvet and wollhan silk.
The Pack Matriarch Lucien’s grandmother, sal regally at the head of the banquet, smiling as she accepted each present with
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soft words and knowing eyes.
And then it was my turn
I took a breath, but it caught in my throat.
+8 Pearls
Every step I took toward her felt like I was carrying the weight of those five years in the Iron Cells with me. Not just shame, but something more dangerous. Guilt.
When I finally stood before her, I bowed my head. “I’m sorry, Matriarch.” I whispered. “It’s my fault. I wasn’t able to protect the moonthread embroidery Lucien commissioned for your Lunar Jubilee,”
The painting wasn’t just a gift. It had been mine. I’d spent countless nights crafting it by hand–each moon–thread stitch woven with pain and hope. My own tears had soaked into that cloth more than once.
And Scarlett had destroyed it.
Not by accident .
But because she knew it mattered to me .
In the short time I’d been in the Duskgrave estate, the Matriarch had treated me not as an outsider, but like family. She’d ordered the healers to tend my leg, sent rare root tonics to help repair the damage wrought by prison chains. She’d ensured. warm meals reached my quarters, made by her own chef. She never looked at me like I was broken.
She called me beautiful, even when the mirror showed me scars.
She
called me kind, even when my soul burned with rage .
She said Lucien was lucky to have found me– when I’d been told all my life that I was cursed.
I swallowed, lips trembling. “I failed you . I’m sorry.”
The Matriarch stood slowly and came to me, her hands soft as she clasped mine. “No, child,” she said. “You did nothing wrong. The ones who wronged you are the ones who should feel shame. The gift may be gone–but your heart was in every stitch. I felt it. And that is enough for me.”
Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. My chest clenched painfully. She was too kind. Far too kind to someone like me.
But before I could compose myself, Lucien’s voice cut through the hall like a blade.
“It was
s your mistake.”
The Matriarch’s head snupped toward him , eyes wide with shock. I could almost hear her internal gasp–he’s so blunt, doesn’t he ser how crushed she looks ?
were on me, unreadable but intense.
But Lucien didn’t flinch. His
s eyes were on
Send Gifts