It wasn't until the mating talk began, until I entered his circle and met Vesper Briar, that I started to feel it.

This relationship had been one-sided from the very beginning.

My plan was simple: after the ceremony, if he was willing to keep his distance from Vesper, I'd come clean about everything. Then I'd have my father secure him a rank within the pack and build him into something.

Clearly, I'd been blind.

I wrenched free of the hands pinning my shoulders, spun around, grabbed Vesper's collar with both fists, and ripped it apart.

The fabric tore instantly.

Two buttons popped off her blouse, exposing the camisole underneath.

I looked at the terror on Vesper's face and let myself smile. "You wanted a party, right? I hope every single day of your life is this much fun."

She shrieked and lunged for my face with her nails. I blocked her arm, snatched the cake platter off the table, and swung it wildly. Nobody dared come closer.

"This mating is off!"

I turned to leave.

A rush of air behind me, and Garrick's open hand cracked across my face.

The force knocked me sideways. My vision went black in waves.

Images flickered through the dizziness, one after another.

Three years ago, Garrick owed gambling debts. The collectors showed up at our den, pounding on the door. He hid in the back room, too scared to make a sound. Not a growl. Not a single flash of amber in his eyes. Nothing.

I was the one who stood in the doorway alone. They slapped me across the face over a dozen times before I finally got them to leave. I could have shifted. Could have let them scent what I really was. But I stayed human for him, and I took it.

When he came out, his eyes were red. He dropped to his knees and said he'd spend his whole life making it up to me. Swore he'd kill himself trying to be good to me.

And for a long time after that, he kept his word.

Up every morning to make me porridge. Working overtime until midnight but still rushing back to our den so we could eat together.

Now, over a degrading dominance trial, he'd hit me hard enough to send me reeling.

A searing pain tore through my right ear. Something warm trickled down the ear canal. Deep inside me, my wolf went silent. Not a whimper, not a snarl. Just silence, as if the blow had stunned her too.

My eardrums had always been thin. The pack healer had warned me that another impact could rupture them.

I reached up and touched my ear. My fingertips came back red.

Garrick jabbed a finger in my face.

"Didn't I warn you? Today you do whatever Vesper says. And instead you humiliate me in front of all these people?"

Several pairs of hands shoved me by the shoulders, pushing me toward the bench at the edge of the lawn. The stink of strange wolves pressed in from every direction, wet pine and trampled soil and sweat. None of it was mine. None of it was safe.

Someone's hand slid across my waist. Another arm reached around from behind and squeezed the inside of my thigh.

I struggled to stand, but a kick caught the side of my knee and I collapsed onto the ground.

One of the groomsmen crouched in front of me, grinning, holding his communicator inches from my face for a close-up.

I turned my head to dodge it. A hand clamped down on the back of my skull and held me still.

Vesper finally looked satisfied. She stood off to the side, arms crossed. "See? That's more like it. It's not a dominance trial if nobody's having a good time."

She glanced down at me and added, "But honestly, Lyra, what's your problem? It's all in good fun. Why'd you have to go and hit someone? You ripped my shirt, and it wasn't cheap."

Garrick walked over and draped his arm across her shoulders, his voice so gentle he sounded like a different person. "Come on, let me take you inside to change."

Vesper shook her head, the corner of her mouth curling. "No need to go through the trouble. Doesn't Lyra have a backup ceremony gown?"

"I'll just wear that. It's not like I care whether it's a mating gown or not. It's just clothes. What's the big deal?"

"Absolutely not."

I gripped the bench and pulled myself to my feet. Blood was still seeping from my ear.

"Nobody touches that dress."

Every wolf knows what a mating gown means to a she-wolf on her claiming night. I'd spent over a moon cycle on that gown, personally overseeing a master seamstress in Rosemont as she hand-stitched every detail to my specifications. Threaded into the lace along the hem were thin lines of moonsilver, my own design, a pattern drawn from the old Nightfang crest that no one in Thornridge Hollow would have recognized.

Something shifted across Garrick's face, like he'd just remembered that. His eyes went slightly unfocused.

Vesper caught on right away and patted Garrick's shoulder. "Come on, you're being way too formal. Lyra might not treat me like a sister, but I've always considered her one of my own."

"A ceremonial gown is just a piece of white fabric. I'm not that fussy. It's not like I'm going to ruin it by wearing it once."

She tilted her head and smiled at me. "You're not that petty, are you, Lyra?"

Whatever hesitation Garrick had vanished on the spot. He let go of Vesper's shoulder and jerked his chin at one of the bridesmaids. "Go get the dress."

I stared him down. "Garrick, don't you dare."

He didn't look at me. His voice was quiet but absolute. "Vesper put more work into this ceremony than anyone. What's the big deal about wearing one of your gowns? She'll give it back."

When the bridesmaid came running back with the gown, I lunged for it.

Before my fingers even touched the hem, two males shoved me aside. I stumbled into the corner of a table, the impact numbing my lower back.

Vesper took the dress and pulled it on right there in front of everyone. She tugged at the skirt, did a slow spin, and smiled with her eyes curved into happy little crescents. The scent of jasmine and copper rolled off her, thick and deliberate, as if she were marking the gown with her own claim.

The pose. The look. Anyone walking in would have thought today's Mating Ceremony was hers and Garrick's.

Someone started whistling.

Garrick didn't step away. He even dropped his gaze to the gown on her body, and the corner of his mouth lifted just slightly.

I stood there watching the two of them side by side, and all at once I wanted to laugh.

The dress was mine. The ceremony was mine. The intended mate was mine.

And right now, I was the outsider.

I stared at Garrick, my voice already raw. "Do you even remember whose Mating Ceremony this is?"

Vesper's smile disappeared. She lowered her head, fiddling with the hem of the gown, her voice barely above a whisper. "Lyra, I'm just not great at getting along with other she-wolves. Do you really hate me that much? If I did something wrong, just tell me, okay? Don't be like this."

Her eyes were already going red as she spoke.

Garrick spun around and glared at me, loud enough to address the whole hollow. "Are you done? Vesper's been helping out of the goodness of her heart, and you've been making a scene from the start! What the hell do you want?"

I pointed at the ceremonial gown on Vesper's body, my finger shaking. "She destroyed my ceremony!"

"Destroyed your ceremony?" Garrick let out a cold laugh and stepped toward me.

"Let me tell you something. This is how we do things here. The rougher the dominance trial, the stronger the bond. You're an outsider, so is that it? Deep down you look down on all of us? Look down on me?"

He was on a roll now. He turned to the gathered wolves with his arms spread wide, voice climbing even higher. "Everybody, take a good look. This is the mate I brought into the pack! She can't even handle a little mating tradition, and she says she loves me?"

Wolves started jeering, low growls and barking laughs rippling through the crowd.

Vesper tugged lightly at his sleeve and murmured something. Garrick patted her hand, his voice dropping to something impossibly gentle. "It's okay. I'll handle it."

Then he turned back to me. His eyes went cold, and his lips curled with a satisfaction he didn't bother to hide.

"Since you won't give me any face, don't blame me for dropping the courtesy."

He tipped his head toward the males standing nearby.

I had barely taken half a step back when a low, heavy roar rolled in from overhead.

Every head in the crowd turned skyward at once.

A silver-white pack jet was descending through the clouds, the Nightfang crest on its fuselage blazing in the sunlight.