Four winters had passed since Selene Frostveil severed our bond without warning. I encountered her again at a territory gathering during the Moon Festival.

Once everyone had settled into their seats around the great wooden table, someone suggested we play a game of truth-or-dare—pack style, where lies could be scented.

Selene drew the first challenge. Truth.

"In your last courtship, what was the wisest decision you made?"

Her pale eyes flickered toward me, and a slow smile curved across her lips.

"I let my former intended clear seventy thousand in blood-debts I owed to the border packs. Once I'd secured a status-mating with a wealthy Alpha, I cast him aside like a shed pelt."

The den chamber erupted in murmurs and gasps.

Everyone expected me to rise in fury, to storm out with my wolf bristling beneath my skin. Instead, I leaned back and gestured for the game to continue, a calm smile on my face.

When my turn came, the question shifted:

"In your last courtship, did you ever conceal anything from your intended?"

"I did."

"What was it?"

"I'm actually the Alpha Heir of the Nightcrest Pack."

——

Silence hung in the air like morning mist.

Then the private chamber exploded with laughter.

"Kael Nightcrest? Are you telling me you've been running so many courier routes that you've started believing those ridiculous Alpha-heir dramas they broadcast on the packnet?"

"Listen to some friendly advice, brother—stop pretending to be something you're not. You haven't even taken off that delivery vest!"

I glanced down at the golden Armani casual jacket I wore, then at the custom AGV helmet resting beside me on the bench.

I supposed it did look like courier gear.

Before I could respond, Selene's mocking voice cut through the noise.

"Kael, it's been four years since we parted ways. How are you still this desperate for status?"

"Tonight's gathering is meant for reconnecting old pack-ties. There's no need to pretend there are no differences in rank among us. You'd do better to show some sincerity."

I remained perfectly still, my back pressed against the carved oak chair, watching her with an expression as cold as winter stone.

"I spoke only the truth. I am indeed the heir to the Nightcrest bloodline."

"Without my standing, do you really believe any of you could have reserved the Moon-Imperial Chamber at Pinecrest Lodge?"

In truth, I had never intended to attend this gathering.

I had no desire to see Selene, and I shared no common ground with these wolves. There was no point in forcing ourselves together.

But Marek Hollowmere, our old peer-circle's Beta functionary, had called me twenty-eight times, swearing Selene would not be present.

He promised that no one would flaunt their status or resources—that this was purely about rekindling old bonds.

Yet here Selene was, not only present but parading her fortune for all to see.

A gold-chaser playing at being a high-born lady.

Truly laughable.

But this pretend noblewoman refused to let me be. She pressed on, relentless:

"Kael, even boasting has its limits. This Moon-Imperial Chamber was reserved by my mate using his Alpha-rank access. What does that have to do with you?"

"Look at yourself—dressed like a delivery runner, wearing those simple leather shoes. If you weren't riding on our generosity, would you even be permitted to dine in such an elevated lodge?"

Her words drew waves of laughter from those around us. The gazes that turned my way now carried open contempt.

But I merely waved my hand, unbothered, and let out a cold laugh.

"From the way you speak, it sounds as though I should be grateful to share your company?"

Selene pursed her lips and gestured at the feast spread across the table—the rare venison, the imported spirits.

"What else would you call it?"

"Without me, could you afford to taste this prime elk? Could you drink these aged moon-wines?"

I slowly lifted my chin, a faint smile playing at the corner of my mouth.

"Selene, you really haven't seen much of the world, have you?"

"Back at the Nightcrest estate, this is what we feed the den servants. I wouldn't lower myself to touch it."

The moment those words left my lips, another round of mockery erupted.

"Kael, I'm begging you—stop this act. You're a low-rank nobody. Without Selene, you couldn't even pass through the front gates of this lodge!"

"Exactly. If Selene hadn't specifically requested your invitation, I wouldn't have wasted a single howl calling you!"

"Just drink three cups as an apology to Selene and be done with it. At least you'll get to taste some of this fine moon-wine while you're at it!"

The taunts rose and fell like waves crashing against stone.

But I paid them no mind at all.

Everything I had said was the truth.

If I had not wanted to spare these old packmates some dignity, I would have already told them that Pinecrest Lodge belonged to my bloodline's holdings.

Seeing my silence, Selene Frostveil lifted her goblet and approached me with a cold smile curling her lips.

"Do you know why I severed our bond back then?" Her voice dripped with contempt. "A male without strength has no right to posture like a true Alpha."

"Drink this down, and I will pretend none of what just happened ever occurred."

I rose slowly from my seat, meeting her gaze without flinching. The scent of her arrogance was thick in the air, mingled with the perfume she used to mask her natural musk.

"Selene Frostveil, I showed you a measure of courtesy, and you actually believe I am still that lovesick fool who would have done anything for you four years ago?"

I turned toward the chamber entrance and called out in a commanding tone that echoed through the lodge.

"Attendant! Bring me the provisions ledger."

"Tonight's entire gathering—every morsel, every drop—goes on my account."

The words had barely left my mouth when a male in formal attire stepped through the doorway. He stood before me with his head slightly bowed in deference, his posture that of a wolf acknowledging superior rank.

It was Garrick Pineward, the Lodge Marshal of Pinecrest. I had encountered him once before when arranging the private chamber for this gathering.

I kept my eyes fixed on Selene, but my words were directed at him with easy familiarity.

"Your restricted reserve menu—prepare every dish on it."

"And bring two bottles of your finest aged moonwine. The rarest vintage you have."

Garrick said nothing. He simply dipped his chin in acknowledgment and withdrew from the chamber.

Everyone in the room went still. Even Selene's eyes widened with disbelief.

Then, in the next heartbeat, she threw her head back and laughed until she nearly doubled over.

"You really cannot stop pretending, can you?" She wiped at her eyes, still shaking with mirth. "My mate and I have dined at this lodge more than ten times. There is no restricted reserve menu. Could you at least prepare your lies before you speak them?"

The others turned their gazes toward me, anticipation gleaming in their eyes. I could sense their eagerness—they were all waiting to watch me be humiliated.

After all, in their minds, I was still that pathetic, lovesick wolf Selene had cruelly abandoned.

Back then, I had been willing to defy my father for her sake. I had walked away from my birthright and ended up running errands across the city like a common packless wanderer, just to prove I could make my own way.

And after I had cleared seventy thousand in debts she had accumulated—resources I had scraped together through endless labor—she had crawled into the bed of Darius Ashford, heir to the Ashford Pack.

Heartbroken and hollow, I had returned home to accept my place in the Nightcrest succession. I had sworn I would never lay eyes on Selene Frostveil again.

Yet here I was at this gathering of old acquaintances, not only facing this treacherous, status-hungry she-wolf once more, but being publicly humiliated by her. She had used the very debt I had paid on her behalf to grind my dignity into the dirt before everyone present.

This insult I could not swallow.

"Just because you have never tasted it, just because you have never been offered it, does not mean it does not exist." I kept my voice level. "It only means your standing was never high enough."

"I suggest you hold your tongue. When the food arrives, your face will sting enough without adding more words to regret."

"Kael Nightcrest, you—!"

Before Selene could finish her snarl, the chamber doors swung open once more.

Dozens of exquisite dishes were carried in by attendants, each platter more elaborate than the last. The gathered wolves watched with stunned expressions as the feast was arranged across the long table.

Garrick Pineward followed, cradling two bottles of limited-vintage moonwine in his arms. He addressed the room with formal respect.

"The Denmaster has declared that all present tonight are honored guests."

"This evening's consumption is to be waived entirely."

I gave a slight nod of approval. The Pineward steward certainly understood how to conduct himself. Using a single feast to curry favor with the heir of the Nightcrest Pack was a transaction that would cost him nothing and gain him much.

"Please convey my gratitude to Denmaster Pineward. Tell him that I—"

I had barely begun my courteous reply when Selene cut me off with a sharp wave of her hand.

"Kael Nightcrest, who gave you permission to speak on our behalf?"

"The Denmaster obviously extended this honor because of my mate Darius's standing. What right do you have to play the gracious host? You are thanking him as though any of this has anything to do with you!"

She shoved past me and strode up to Garrick, her chin lifted with entitled pride.

"I will thank Denmaster Ronan on behalf of my mate. Consider this toast my gesture of respect."

"Once Darius finishes his current affairs, we will personally visit the Denmaster to express our appreciation properly."

Selene raised her goblet and drained it in one smooth motion.

As the last drop passed her lips, a strange expression began to spread across Garrick Pineward's face—something between confusion and barely suppressed disbelief.

He opened his mouth to say something, but a single sharp look from me silenced him immediately.

I reached for my coat draped over the chair back and turned to face the gathered wolves.

"I have other matters to attend to. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

"Oh, and Marek—in the future, don't bother inviting me to gatherings of this caliber."

I truly couldn't stomach another moment in this place.

Selene Frostveil's insufferable posturing made my wolf snarl with disgust beneath my skin.

But I had no interest in exposing her lies.

The social debt and face from this meal—I'd consider it my final gift to her.

Yet as I passed by her seat, she suddenly seized my arm.

"Kael Nightcrest, aren't you forgetting something?"

"What would that be?"

"Settling your own portion of the bill."

I tilted my head, certain my ears had deceived me.

"Selene, has your mind gone completely feral?"

"The Lodge Marshal clearly stated tonight's expenses were waived. What exactly am I supposed to pay?"

Selene let out a cold, mocking laugh, her eyes dripping with contempt.

"The waiver exists because my mate commands respect across territories. What does that have to do with you?"

"Since this gathering was hosted under my name, I decide who benefits from my generosity."

She strode to the entrance and ripped the itemized ledger from its hook.

"Tonight's total comes to eight hundred thousand in pack credits. Split among twenty former packmates, that's forty thousand each."

"I've covered everyone's share—except yours."

"Forty thousand. Will you pay in trade goods or have it drawn from your personal stores?"

Garrick Pineward stepped forward quickly, attempting to interject.

"My lady, regarding tonight's accounting—"

I raised a hand and gently pulled Garrick behind me, then leaned closer to Selene.

"You've decided to make an enemy of me tonight, haven't you?"

Selene nodded without hesitation, her words cutting like fangs.

"Absolutely."

"I actually considered honoring our past connection by letting you experience a taste of how the upper ranks feast. But you've proven yourself incapable of accepting such grace."

"Since that's how it is, I'll teach you a lesson tonight—help you understand exactly what kind of creature you truly are."

Her words didn't anger me. Instead, I found myself laughing.

"My apologies, but unlike you, I know precisely where I stand in the hierarchy. You're the one who's lost all sense of her own rank."

The moment those words left my lips, the wolves around the table erupted into hostile murmurs.

"Kael Nightcrest, you've really become addicted to this delusion of grandeur. Looking down on Selene? If you had any real standing, would she have cast you aside like dead weight?"

"Exactly. Her mate is an Alpha whose territory holdings are worth hundreds of millions. If you scraped together everything you own, would it even amount to the scraps from his ledgers?"

"He's nothing but a fool living in fantasy. If he actually tries to pay, nobody lend him a single coin!"

I ran my tongue across my teeth and swept my gaze across every face in the room.

"What fascinating observations. But I don't just look down on Selene Frostveil—I look down on all of you."

"Because everyone seated here is nothing but refuse."

I've never been one for excessive socializing, but I understand basic pack courtesy.

From the moment I sat down until now, these so-called former packmates hadn't exchanged a single word about genuine bonds or shared history. They'd spent the entire evening groveling and fawning over Selene.

Why should I preserve the dignity of wolves this desperate to lick boots?

My declaration instantly made me the target of every hostile glare in the room.

Marek Hollowmere shot to his feet in fury, slamming his palm against the table with a thunderous crack.

"Kael Nightcrest, someone like you doesn't deserve to share a meal with us. Pay your debt and get out!"

Selene watched the chorus of mockery grow louder, her smile deepening with satisfaction.

She lifted a bottle of rare aged spirits—a limited vintage from the northern territories—and poured ten generous glasses.

"Kael, I understand that asking a wolf who runs deliveries for scraps to produce forty thousand on the spot is quite the challenge."