The necklace snapped from Elara's neck with a violent jerk, the chain biting into her skin before slipping away. A sharp, stinging pain laced across her collarbone as the pendant was yanked free. Her breath caught in her throat as she stumbled back, clutching the tender spot where the chain had been.
Tears welled in her eyes as she watched Roman toss the necklace into Mona's waiting hands, his face twisted with disdain.
"Here, Mona. You keep this," he said, his tone cold and unyielding. "Let it be a lesson to this useless daughter of mine, not to defy me again."
Mona took the necklace with both hands, a carefully constructed mask of innocence draped across her features. Her eyes flickered with satisfaction, though her expression remained pitiful, crafted perfectly for Roman's benefit.
"No, Dad, please!" Elara cried out, her voice shaking uncontrollably. "Don't give it to her! That necklace… it's the only thing I have of Mom!"
Roman froze, just for a moment.
Something flickered behind his eyes—hesitation, a crack in the fury. But it vanished just as quickly as it appeared, buried beneath years of bitterness and disappointment.
He scoffed. "A brat like you didn't deserve it in the first place," he snapped. "Mona will cherish it more than you ever could."
And with that, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, his footsteps echoing like thunder down the hall.
Elara collapsed onto her bed, the strength draining from her body like a punctured lung. She curled into herself, tears slipping silently down her cheeks. She didn't even glance at the mother-daughter pair still lingering in the doorway, though she could feel their eyes on her, two sets of smirking faces, basking in their triumph.
"Hope you learned your lesson," Mona said with a quiet, venomous tone. "Next time you lay a hand on me, it won't just be a slap—it'll be your skin against my wolf's claws."
And then, Mona turned and walked away, Selena following closely behind.
"Do you really want that necklace so badly, Mona?" Selena asked curiously as they entered Mona's lavishly decorated bedroom. The pendant was old, barely polished, and nowhere near the quality of the jewels Mona usually wore.
Mona scoffed as she tossed the necklace into a drawer without a second glance. "Please, Mom. You think I'd be caught dead wearing that ugly, outdated thing?"
Selena chuckled, clearly relieved. "For a second, I thought something had happened to my daughter's taste in accessories."
Mona rolled her eyes and picked up a small makeup brush from her vanity. "Relax. I only took it to make a point. That thing probably smells like mothballs and pity. Besides, I've got Rosaline's party tonight. I can't waste my time with trash like that."
She leaned closer to the mirror, examining her perfectly shaped eyebrows.
"I need to look perfect. Rosaline's going to be Luna one day and I want to be in her good books before that happens."
"Fine, fine," Selena muttered, raising her hands in surrender. "I won't bother you anymore."
Mona gave her a quick glance before shooing her mother away. "Good. And don't touch my face. I've already done my makeup."
With that, Mona left her room, heels clicking confidently against the floor.
°°°°°°
The packhouse party was already in full swing by the time Mona arrived. Lights twinkled overhead, casting a beutiful glow over the polished floor. The large hall was filled with laughter, music, and the scent of fresh flowers mixed with cooked meat.
She swept in like royalty, her gown flowing behind her as she scanned the crowd.
Then she saw Elara.
There, tucked away near the serving table, wearing a plain grey dress and a pair of scuffed flats, doing chores Mona wouldn't dream of touching.
A smirk curled Mona's lips as she sauntered over, her heels clicking purposefully on the marble tiles.
"I thought you'd be curled up in bed, crying your eyes out," Mona said sweetly, her tone laced with mockery. "Didn't expect to see you out here… working. Then again, I suppose, you know what would happen to you if you didn't come to work."
Elara stiffened but didn't turn around.
"Don't stop now," another voice chimed in, cool, commanding, and laced with cruelty. "The wolfless girl needs to know her place."
It was Rosaline Velmora.
Mona's expression instantly shifted into one of excessive warmth. She beamed as she turned toward the approaching girl.
"Greetings, my future Luna!" she said brightly, her voice raised loud enough for those nearby to hear.
Rosaline gave a shallow nod of acknowledgment, the bare minimum of recognition, before her eyes flicked to Elara with visible disgust.
Elara didn't speak. She kept her gaze down, wishing she could shrink out of sight.
Rosaline was a year older. She'd turned eighteen the year before and had immediately claimed to sense the mate bond with Lucian Ashborne—the future Alpha of Mooncrest. Since then, she had assumed the role of Luna-in-waiting, and most of the pack had begun to treat her accordingly.
Why wouldn't they? She was beautiful, strong, and powerful.
Everything Elara wasn't.
"Why aren't you greeting your future Luna, wolfless?" Rosaline asked coldly.
Elara bit her tongue.
Rosaline wasn't Luna. Lucian hadn't even turned eighteen yet. He hadn't confirmed the bond. But Elara knew better than to speak her thoughts aloud.
She lowered her gaze and began to murmur a greeting when movement near the entrance caught her attention.
Lucian.
He strode into the room, tall and composed, his black shirt stretched perfectly across his broad shoulders. His presence immediately changed the energy of the hall. And for a moment, his eyes locked with Elara's.
Her heart fluttered uncontrollably.
It always happened when she saw him. This quiet ache, this restlessness. She didn't understand it. She wasn't supposed to feel anything. She was wolfles, damaged, broken, unworthy.
But the pull in her chest told another story.
She and Lucian had been born on the same day, at the same hour, down to the minute. As children, people used to whisper that they might be fated. They used to tease her about it. And for a while, she let herself believe it could be true.
But then her wolf never came.
And the whispers stopped.
"Why are you standing there like a statue?" Rosaline snapped. "Greet us properly."
Elara bowed her head quickly, voice soft. "Greetings to our future Alpha and Luna."
Lucian didn't reply.
But his eyes were still on her.
Mona narrowed her eyes, clearly noticing the way Lucian's gaze lingered.
Rosaline noticed it too.
There was something in his expression. Not disgust. Not indifference. Something else.
Interest.
And Rosaline hated it.
"You're dismissed, wolfless," Mona snapped. "Run along now, before you ruin the mood."
Elara turned to leave, glad to escape.
But Lucian's voice stopped her.
"Bring me a drink, wolfless."
The room stilled for a second.
Elara flinched at the sound of his deep voice. It wasn't angry. It wasn't kind either. Just… commanding.
She nodded quickly and hurried toward the drink table, her pulse racing.
Behind her, Rosaline's glare dug into her back like knives. Something ugly brewed behind her polished smile. That stare promised consequences.
Elara returned with the tray, her hands trembling as she tried to balance the glasses without spilling a drop. But just as she reached the group, Mona stepped directly into her path.
Elara gasped.
She stumbled forward, the tray tilting.
The glasses slipped.
Time slowed as they shattered against the floor, one of them spilling directly onto Lucian's shirt.
A gasp rippled through the party.
All eyes turned toward the scene.
Everyone knew Lucian's temper. Everyone knew what could happen when he was crossed.
Elara's breath hitched as she dropped to her knees, frantically trying to gather the shards.
But before she could finish, a heavy boot came down on her hand, grinding it into the broken glass.