The next evening, Gareth waited at the bottom of the stone staircase in the pack hall. His hand stretched out, as he always did, expecting me to take it. But I didn’t.

For the first time in three years, I walked past him without a word. Gareth froze for a moment, surprise flickering in his sharp wolfish eyes, then quickly regained his calm, predator’s mask. He followed me in silence, sitting across from me in the carriage like a stranger I had never known.

Tonight was mine. It was the ceremony to celebrate my mother as the late Luna of the Silverfang Pack. I celebrated it by showing my hobby, knitting gowns. Six gowns I had spent years preparing.

Each stitch carried a memory of pain, of love lost, of a mother who had died broken.

The collection was my message to the world. It was a message no one could ignore. To the eight-year-old girl who watched her mother give up life while the pack ignored her cries.

One by one, the gowns appeared under the full moon’s silver light. The Ariadne gown was a soft pink, echoing my mother’s young love for my father. The Descent gown was shaped like a trapped bird, the moment she realized he had married her for power.

Meanwhile, the Unspoken gown was a deep cerulean gown that showed the night my father’s mistress was revealed and my mother was locked away for ‘causing a scene’.

After that, the Inheritance gown, a midnight black gown embroidered with thorned vines, the strength she passed to me through pain.

Last but not least was the Resurrection gown. It was a bright scarlet, sharp and fierce, the fire she had lit in my soul.

The pack applauded, howling in approval. But when the final gown appeared, my chest froze. Gwyneth stepped onto the stage. Wearing it.

The gown I had sewn with trembling hands, tears dripping onto the fabric. It held a piece of my mother. Her hair woven into the brooch at the collar. Her heartbeat. Her essence.

I gasped, horror slicing through me.

“No!” I stumbled forward, trying to stop her.

“She cannot wear that! She can’t! No!”

Before I could reach the stage, a hand gripped my wrist, bruising. I spun around. It was Gareth. His fingers dug into my skin. His eyes were unreadable, like a wolf who had already claimed its prey.

“Let go of me!” I hissed, trembling with rage.

“That gown carries my mother’s hair! And Gwyneth is my mother’s killer … why is she wearing it? Don’t you see?!”

He didn’t flinch.

“Do not cause a scene, Lady Freya. This is not about you.”

I yanked my arm free, staggering back as my world collapsed. Then, a deep voice rang across the hall. A tall man in ceremonial black stepped forward.

“My name is Alwin Oakwood, the Beta of Alpha Gareth, Alpha of the Grey Wind Pack,” he announced, bowing gracefully.

“Our Alpha believes all things beautiful should belong to their rightful owner. All these gowns belong to one person and that is Lady Gwyneth.”

Gwyneth pressed her gloved hand to her chest, pretending to be embarrassed.

“Oh … I had no idea Alpha Gareth would show me such honor. I am… deeply grateful. I hope to meet him soon. I have never seen him before.”

The pack members murmured, flashing their eyes with excitement.

“Gareth? The Alpha no one has ever seen?”

“And Lady Gwyneth has already captured his attention?”

“She must be special to earn such favor!”

I could barely breathe.

“What is this?” I whispered, voice sharp.

Before I could step closer, attendants rolled out the other five gowns. My other dresses, my life’s work, were hung carelessly on wooden racks, no reverence, no protection.

“All six gowns are gifts to Lady Gwyneth Greywind from Alpha Gareth,” the Beta continued.

“Who says Lady Freya should know her place and not interfere with the innocent Lady Gwyneth?”

The pack stared at me like I was a wolf trapped in a snare. Gwyneth looked around, wide-eyed, pretending innocence.

“Lady Freya … please don’t be mad. I never wanted to steal your spotlight. I’m sorry…”

I wanted to scream. I wanted to tear everything apart. Cry until my heart broke.

Gareth stood behind me, silent, watching. His eyes were cold, like a judge delivering punishment. He didn’t need words. He looked at me like I deserved this humiliation.

Public. Precise.

A lesson for daring to defy him.

I bit my tongue until I tasted blood. When the ceremony ended, all my dresses were gone. My tribute to my mother stolen. My name was erased.

I didn’t watch Gareth leaning toward Gwyneth with admiration. I didn’t watch Gwyneth’s sly smile.

What I knew was that I shifted into my wolf form to the old countryside farmhouse, the one on the edge of the forest. I almost collapsed once I reached the farmhouse.

I went to the garden. My mother’s garden. The one she fought to keep from being destroyed for a hidden pack vault.

The jasmine had bloomed early. I stood beneath it, in heels and ruin, a woman left with nothing. And I cried. Not polite tears. Not quiet ones. The kind that shook the soul. The kind that came from the deepest part of a broken girl.

Not just because I had loved Gareth, my fated mate, with a fire he used to burn me.

Not just because the pack adored Gwyneth and marked me as a villain.

But because I had let go of every piece of love I had ever given to this pack. Every hope I had ever held.

My screams echoed through the forest, unanswered.

Two days.

That was how long I stayed locked inside my den, packing my things in silence and preparing to leave the Silverfang Pack for good.

I ate almost nothing. I barely slept. My chest didn’t ache anymore. I was simply numb, as if my wolf had curled into a cold corner inside me and refused to move.

A knock came.

“Freya?” Gwyneth’s sweet voice floated through the door, fake as always.

When I didn’t answer, the door opened anyway. Gwyneth stepped inside like the Alpha’s house belonged to her alone.

“Sister, I know you’ve been … going through things. But it’s my birthday, and all the pack members are asking where you are. You need to come greet everyone. Even if Father is angry with you… you’re still his daughter.”

I stayed silent and kept folding clothes.

“Freya, please? I’m just trying to keep our pack peaceful.”

Then another voice followed. Deeper. Colder. His.

“Where are you going? Why can’t you act normal for once—”

“You are my warrior, not my Alpha. Don’t forget your place.”

My words cut through the air like claws, and Gareth stopped, his expression empty and unreadable.

I hadn’t seen him since the night he sold my legacy, the night he humiliated me in front of the whole pack. The night the male who had once been my fated mate treated me worse than a rogue.

“Lady Freya, you have everything,” he finally said, tone formal.

“The Silverfang Pack has a tremendous legacy. You don’t need to fight with your sister or torment her. The least you can do is show up for one night. Just behave.”

I laughed, sharp, bitter, and painful.

Behave.

Gwyneth sniffed softly, pretending to be innocent.

“Gareth, you’re my sister’s warrior and friend. Please help me. I only want Freya to come downstairs. Everyone is talking…”

I turned away.

If I looked at either of them any longer, I would tear the whole room apart.

“Fine. Get out. I’ll be there.”

My voice sounded dull, hollow. Because the only thing worse than breaking… was letting them see it.

The ballroom glittered in soft pink and gold, the walls covered in roses and glowing candles. Pack members laughed and chatted, the air thick with sweet perfume and wolf scents. Then I heard him.

My father.

Laughing loudly among high‑ranking Alphas and Betas.

“So, the Grey Wind Pack’s Alpha himself chased after my Gwyneth!” he boasted.

“Gareth, of all wolves. I always knew my daughter was special!”

Someone asked about me.

He didn’t hesitate.

“Freya?” he scoffed.

“A troublesome pup. Not like Gwyneth. She brings honor to the pack. Freya only brings problems and wants attention.”

I froze behind a marble column, hidden but listening. His words sliced through me like claws. Then Gwyneth’s voice rang out through the hall.

“Everyone!” she called sweetly.

“Before we cut the cake, I want to say something!”

The crowd gathered like pups chasing a treat.

She smiled beautifully, her eyes sweeping the room until they landed on me. She lifted her hand, inviting me forward like I was part of her little show.

“I know things have been… tense,” she said softly.

“But I want you all to know that my sister and I have made peace.”

I blinked.

She turned to me with fake sadness.

“I’m sorry for making you angry and jealous, sister. I never tried to compete with you. No matter how much you hate me… I always looked up to you. We are pack.”

The crowd murmured in admiration.

She turned back to the giant cake and cut it gracefully.

“To my sister,” she said. “May she one day find peace and purpose.”

Then she stepped closer and held the first bite toward me.

I didn’t take it.

Her whisper hit me like poison.

“The last thing you’ll ever taste as a Silverfang Pack’s member, bitch. First your mother died, and now it’s your turn to follow her. Father isn’t yours. Your ex‑fiancé wants me. Even your fated mate, your precious warrior, chooses me over you.”

My vision burned red. I turned away, refusing to let her see me break. But then my dress jerked sharply.

Cold air hit my back. Gasps filled the hall. The silk slid down my body in a cruel wave, leaving my breasts exposed. I grabbed the fabric too late.

People shouted. Wolves whistled. Voices hissed in shock. My hands shook as I tried to pull the dress up, but the clasp had been cut. Clean. Deliberate.

I knelt on the ground, tears stinging my eyes.

Behind me, Gwyneth gasped dramatically.

“Oh no, sister!” she cried. “Why would you do that? Again? Freya… is this for attention?”

The crowd turned toward me with disgust, pity, and hunger.

And then … he moved.

Gareth. From across the room, his gaze locked on me—cold, distant, Alpha‑hard. He didn’t shield me.

Didn’t growl. Didn’t protect the wolf who once carried his mark.

He shrugged off his jacket and dropped it. At my feet. Not on my shoulders. Not around me. As if he wanted to say, ‘Cover yourself. You shame us.’

I grabbed it with shaking hands and pulled it around me as I stood on trembling legs.

Gareth guided me toward the exit, his grip firm on my elbow.

No comfort. No warmth. Just the cold duty of a warrior escorting a disgraceful wolf.

In the bathroom, I shut the door fast and slid down the wall. The cold marble bit into my bare skin as I clutched his jacket to my chest. My breaths came in broken gasps. Shame crawled up my spine like fire. Tears fell hot and fast.

Outside, I heard Gwyneth’s fake cry.

“W‑Why would my sister do this?!”

Gareth’s voice followed, sharp and cold.

“The way she acts… like stripping in front of the whole pack means nothing. It’s something an innocent wolf like you will never understand, Lady Gwyneth.”

Then came the words that shattered me.

“I can’t believe a woman could act with so little respect for herself,” Gareth said. “Who undresses like that? For attention? Sympathy? A moment of praise?”

I stared at the floor.

“She’s always been an attention seeker,” he continued.

“Framing you. Acting like a… prostitute. Tonight proved it. No wolf with dignity would do something like that.”

The words were bullets.

One. After. Another.

He truly believed I wanted this. That I chose to be exposed like prey before a pack of hungry wolves. I once loved him more than the moon. I once believed the mate bond meant something. Now, I saw the truth.

Loving him had been the biggest mistake of my life.

Inside the small bathroom, my breaths came in short, shallow bursts. But with the last of my strength, I forced myself to stand, trembling.

In the cracked mirror, the reflection that stared back at me was hollow and broken. But my eyes… they burned.

I pushed the bathroom door open, wrapping my ruined dress tightly around me.

Gareth’s body stiffened. He was standing beside Gwyneth, arms crossed, jaw tight, watching. Waiting.

For a moment, I saw a flicker of doubt in his sharp wolfish eyes. What if she didn’t mean for the wardrobe accident to happen?

No. That couldn’t be true.

“Lady Freya.”

I walked past him without a word. Then, with deliberate motion, I pulled off his ink-black jacket and tossed it into the large trash bin at the side. Right in front of him.

Silence cracked. Gareth’s mouth opened slightly, a flash of something.

Was it confusion? Regret? Annoyance?

But it defintely crossed his face.

I didn’t care.

“Lady Freya,” Alwin, a Beta who had served the castle since my childhood, rushed forward, worry in his voice.

“What happens to insolent servants who gossip behind their masters?” I asked coldly.

“They… are punished, Lady Freya?”

I didn’t answer. My heart wasn’t calm. It was burning with hurt, rage, and sorrow.

I turned back to him. Without hesitation, my hand shot forward.

CRACK.

The sound of my palm meeting Gareth’s cheek cut through the hallway like a gunshot, louder than the music from the ballroom, louder than Gwyneth’s dramatic gasp.

Gareth didn’t flinch. He froze, the red mark blooming across his skin. His jaw clenched. I leaned closer, my voice low, shaking, venomous.

“Who the hell are you to decide my worth?” I hissed.

“Who gave you the right to judge me and then call me… that?”

My voice broke, but I didn’t.

“A whore? Really? After everything I gave you… after every time I protected you… you humiliate me like this?”

For a moment, his eyes shifted, a flicker of guilt passing across them. He wanted to speak, but I wasn’t done.

“Out of everyone who has ever hurt me… you?” I whispered bitterly, stepping closer, breath trembling.

“You are my greatest regret. Even a dog doesn’t bite the hand that feeds it. But you… you are worse than a dog.”

“This house was never safe. The woman you chase… you don’t even know her. Yet you follow her blindly, a fool who will never understand until she drags you into hell herself!”

Gareth’s cold, indifferent eyes widened slightly, shock flashing across them as he muttered.

“Freya…”

I turned away and left.

Inside my room, finally alone, I collapsed. Trembling, I relived every moment of humiliation. My mind spun like a storm.

With shaky fingers, I looked to see if there were terrible news about today’s event or about my exposed body. I braced myself to be mocked by everyone.

Then, something happened.

There was an anonymous letter.

[No pictures. No traces. No reports… Not a single word will leak. Those who wronged you today—remember their faces. They will pay their debt in blood.]

My tears paused. My eyes widened as I read it again. I hurriedly checked for more rumors. But the rumors I heard were that a farmhouse close to our pack went bankrupt, a healer got arrested for sexual assault, and the rumor about Gwyneth lost 10 millions golden coins.

Not a single mention of today’s incident. The people who had seen my incident were either imprisoned for serious crimes… or gone. I took a sharp breath.

The anonymous helper… it had to be someone from the Blackwing Pack.

Auron Blackwing.

But why?