Chapter 5
The metallic tang of blood filled my mouth, but I didn't stop. I gripped Oaklyn’s wrist—firmly enough to hold her, but not enough to bruise—and marched her out of the cool, tiled sanctuary of the locker room back into the blinding California sun. The pool deck was still buzzing with low chatter, but silence rippled outward from us as I dragged the little girl toward the cabanas.
Sebastian was swirling the ice in his whiskey glass. Kyla was applying fresh lip gloss. They looked like royalty holding court, oblivious to the predator they were raising.
"Your daughter," I announced, my voice trembling not with fear, but with a rage so hot it felt like it was cauterizing my veins, "just attacked me."
I swept my hair back, revealing the jagged, bleeding cut on the shell of my ear. A collective gasp went through the nearby tables.
Sebastian didn't even set down his drink. He looked at the blood, then down at Oaklyn, who instantly dissolved into practiced, heaving sobs, burying her face in his swim trunks.
"She's a child, Ella," Sebastian scoffed, looking at me with bored disappointment. "She's teething. She plays rough."
"She partially shifted," I snapped, my hand shaking as I pointed at the weeping girl. "She tried to take a chunk out of my skull, Sebastian! That isn't playing."
"Don't be dramatic," he said, his voice dropping into that Alpha tone that used to make my knees weak but now just made my stomach turn. "She's a pup. She doesn't know her own strength yet. Don't demonize a five-year-old just because you're bitter that I chose her mother over you."
"Bastian, look," Kyla chimed in, her voice shrill and accusatory. She pointed a manicured talon at my hand still holding Oaklyn’s wrist. "Look at her grip! She's hurting our baby!"
Sebastian’s eyes darkened. He stood up, towering over me, his shadow falling across my face like a prison bar. "Let her go, Ella. Right now."
I released Oaklyn as if she were burning coal. She scrambled into Kyla’s lap, sticking her tongue out at me the second her father turned his head.
"You will apologize," Sebastian commanded, crossing his arms. "For manhandling the future Alpha female of the Ironclad Pack."
The injustice was a physical blow, heavier than the water that had crushed me earlier. I looked at the man I had mourned for five years. I looked at the woman who had stolen my life. And I realized there was no winning this argument. Not here. Not with words.
"I won't apologize for bleeding, Sebastian," I said, my voice quiet and cold. I turned on my heel and walked away, feeling his glare burning into my back until the elevator doors finally slid shut.
***
Thirty minutes later, the silence of my hotel suite was broken only by the hiss of antiseptic spray.
I sat on the edge of the velvet sofa, clutching a throw pillow. Corbin stood over me, his movements gentle and precise as he cleaned the wound on my ear.
"I should go down there and tear his head off," Corbin murmured, his voice tight with restrained violence. "He let a pup draw blood from a high-ranking official and demanded an apology? He’s lost his mind."
"He thinks he's untouchable," I whispered, wincing as the sting of the medicine hit the raw skin.
Corbin paused, his hand hovering near my cheek. He didn't pull away. "I suspected, you know. Years ago."
I froze. "Suspected what?"
"That he wasn't dead," Corbin admitted, his obsidian eyes filled with a pained confession. "The rogue reports... the patterns didn't make sense. No body. No scent trail. But I had no proof, Ella. And I couldn't... I couldn't break your heart all over again on a hunch. I wanted to protect you from the hope as much as the grief."
A tear slipped down my cheek. He had carried that burden alone, watching me mourn a ghost, just to keep me sane.
"I'm done watching from the sidelines," Corbin said, his voice dropping to a rough, desperate whisper. He tossed the medical supplies onto the table and knelt before me, placing his large, warm hands on my knees. "I can't be just your friend anymore, Ella. I can't watch you get hurt by a man who doesn't deserve to breathe the same air as you."
He looked up at me, and the intensity in his gaze stripped away my defenses. "I want to be your shield. I want to be the one who stands between you and the world. Be my Luna, Ella. Let me claim you. Not as property, but as my equal."
My heart hammered against my ribs. This wasn't the crushing weight of Sebastian’s command; this was an anchor. A promise.
"Yes," I breathed, the word falling from my lips before my brain could catch up. "Yes, Corbin."
He leaned in, pressing his forehead against mine, his breath mingling with mine. "Tonight, we show them. No more hiding."
***
The Moon Goddess Gala was a sea of black ties and glittering sequins. I stood before the full-length mirror in my suite, staring at a stranger.
Gone was the severe bun and the practical black pantsuit of the Event Coordinator. My hair fell in loose, golden waves around my shoulders, carefully styled to hide the bandage on my ear. But it was the dress that changed everything.
It was a gown of deep, midnight blue silk—the signature color of the Obsidian Pack. It clung to my curves like liquid shadow, featuring a daring slit up the thigh and a neckline that demanded confidence. It was a dress meant for a queen, not a servant.
Corbin stepped up behind me, looking devastating in a tuxedo that matched the midnight blue of my gown. He placed his hands on my shoulders, his eyes meeting mine in the reflection.
"Ready?" he asked.
I took a deep breath, inhaling his scent of pine and rain. The ghost of the girl who died five years ago faded away, replaced by the woman standing in the glass.
"Ready," I said.
We didn't take the service elevator. We took the grand staircase.
As we descended into the ballroom, the hum of conversation died out. Heads turned. Glasses were lowered. I saw Marcus Steele’s jaw drop. I saw Kyla spill her champagne.
And then, I saw Sebastian.
He stood near the center of the room, looking up at us. His face went slack, all the color draining from his skin as he realized what the blue dress meant. He wasn't looking at his ex-fiancée, the event planner. He was looking at the Luna of the Obsidian Pack.
I tightened my grip on Corbin’s arm, lifted my chin, and smiled. Let the gala begin.
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