Claire’s POV
The dress Damian gave me hugged every curve of my body. Dark blue silk clung to my skin like a second layer, the slit climbing dangerously high up my thigh.
The silver mask hid half my face, but somehow made me look even more sinful.
I turned it over slowly, studying the pattern.
“It hides your face and dampens your scent,” His fingers casually brushing the stray hairs away from my collarbone. “But it won’t fully hide my mark.”
I touched the bite on my neck, still burning. My wolf stirred restlessly under my skin, awake but volatile.
“Why the disguise?” I asked. “I thought we came to face Chase and Ivy.”
Damian stepped closer, his fingers tightening on the silver mask before handing it over.
“We did,” he murmured. “But if they spot you too soon, they'll play nice. Let them dig their own graves first.”
Understanding clicked. If I walked in as Claire, Chase would spin the narrative instantly. He’d brand me a criminal clinging to the King. But as a mysterious stranger favored by the crown? I would hold all the cards.
I slipped the mask on. The magic settled against my skin, sharpening my senses as I stood up and faced him.
Damian went completely rigid, his golden eyes tracking the elegant slope of my neck down to the blue silk clinging to my hips.
He cleared his throat. “Perfect.”
---
At the banquet doors, Damian stopped dead.
I paused, waiting for him to offer his arm or lead the way. He didn’t budge.
“Go on,” he said. “Walk in first.”
I stared up at him, narrowing my eyes. “You said you’d have my back.”
Damian looked down at me, and for a fraction of a second, his gaze softened. A faint, amused twitch played at the corner of his lips.
“I do,” he whispered. Then he looked toward the heavy doors, his gold eyes turning back to ice. “But if I walk in beside you, they’ll hide behind fake manners. I want them to show their real teeth.”
I leaned in, eyebrow arched. “And what if someone decides to get handsy with the King’s new favorite?”
Damian shrugged, his sharp jaw relaxing as a dark, playful glint replaced the cold steel in his eyes. “Then I finally get to break something.”
He checked his cuffs, looking entirely too relaxed for a man planning a massacre. “Try not to ruin the blue silk, little wolf. I like you in it.”
A shiver ran down my spine. He lifted my chin with one finger, forcing me to hold his gaze.
“Go in first,” he commanded. “You carry my mark, Claire. You don’t stand where they tell you to.” He nodded toward the hall. “If you see a seat fit for a queen, take it.”
The sheer weight of his words left me breathless. He made it sound so simple. Terrifying, but simple.
I wasn’t walking in as a discarded fiancée or a ruined sister. I was walking in as the woman marked by the Alpha King.
Damian leaned closer, his deep voice grazing my ear. “Go turn their world upside down, little wolf. Give me a reason to crush them.”
I took a deep breath, threw the doors open, and stepped inside.
The banquet hall fell dead silent the moment I stepped across the threshold.
Conversations died instantly. Every head turned, tracking my every movement across the marble floor. Nobody recognized my face or scent, but they knew I wasn't just another guest. My gown was too expensive, the mask too striking, and the royal guards had bowed way too low.
I scanned the room, taking in the gold tables and glittering chandeliers. Then I spotted her.
Ivy.
She stood at the head table beside Chase, grinning like the cat that swallowed the canary. And she was wearing my dress.
The custom gown my mother had commissioned for my ceremony. White silk with silver embroidery. The exact dress I was supposed to wear when Chase announced our future. Ivy had stolen my man, my title, my life, and now she was flaunting my future like she owned it.
A sharp pang of betrayal sliced through me. I remembered her evil laugh in my vision while I lay dying on that floor.
But Damian’s fresh mark throbbed against my neck, hot and possessive.
I found my anchor.
My eyes locked onto the empty chair beside Damian’s designated spot at the high table. Everyone in the hall knew what that seat meant.
The Luna’s seat.
With my chin high, I ignored the hushed whispers, marched straight up, and claimed the chair right next to the empty royal throne.
The room erupted into furious murmurs.
Chase stiffened in his seat, his dark eyes narrowing as he tried to pierce through my mask. Ivy’s fake smile cracked at the edges. This was supposed to be her big night, her ultimate victory. Now, every single eye was locked on the mystery woman sitting in her dream throne.
I folded my hands in my lap and waited. It didn’t take long.
Ivy couldn't help herself. She rose, her sweet mask firmly back in place, and marched over to my table, performing for the watching crowd.
She stopped beside my chair, tilting her head. "Forgive me," she cooed, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. "But who exactly do you think you are, taking such an important seat?"
I looked up slowly, letting my eyes drag down her white dress. "That dress is gorgeous," I murmured.
Ivy’s grin widened, thinking she’d won.
I let the silence stretch for a beat. "It must feel strange, though," I added softly. "Wearing a gown tailored for someone else."
Ivy went completely rigid.
Chase’s head snapped toward me, his gaze suddenly razor-sharp.
I had struck a nerve.
He leaned forward slowly, staring at me like he was trying to rip the mask off my face with his eyes alone.
Ivy recovered quickly, her smile turning brittle. "You've got a lot of nerve walking into an engagement party just to insult the bride."
"Insult?" I kept my cool. "I only paid a compliment to the dress."
"You implied—"
"I implied nothing." I locked eyes with her through the silver filigree. "But a woman who steals her sister’s man should be careful about throwing around words like nerve."
A collective gasp echoed through the hall. Every guest within earshot turned to stare.
Ivy’s sweet facade shattered to pieces.
"How dare you!" she shrieked, her voice turning shrill and furious. "You know nothing about my engagement! You have no right to be here!"
I sat there, calm as ice, while she completely unraveled in front of her future subjects.
"You insult my pack!" Ivy yelled, losing her mind. "You disrespect the future Luna! You think that chair makes you special?"
Chase shot a panicked glance toward the empty royal throne, a bead of cold sweat rolling down his temple. He bolted upright and grabbed her arm, his grip white-knuckled as he tried to drag her back.
"Ivy, drop it," he hissed under his breath. "You're making a scene."
But Ivy yanked away, her chest heaving. I just offered her a cruel smile. This was perfect. Her unhinged rage was doing my job for me.
Ivy’s eyes turned murderous. She snatched a glass of red wine from a passing tray. For a split second, she looked right at my mask and flashed a sickening smile.
Before anyone could blink, she hurled the wine straight at my face.
A crimson arc of liquid flew toward me.
My wolf reacted on pure instinct. I ducked sharply, dodging the worst of the splash. But the sudden jerk snapped the silk ribbon.
The silver mask shifted.
For one terrifying heartbeat, it slipped right off my face.