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Elara Vance POV:
The rich, savory scent of rosemary and garlic filled the small kitchen, clinging to the warm air. I smiled, turning the lamb chops in the sizzling cast-iron skillet. They were seared to a perfect, deep brown, the fat rendering and crisping just the way Zane loved it.
On the counter, a bottle of his favorite aged whiskey stood next to two crystal glasses, and a simple chocolate lava cake—his weakness—was waiting to be warmed.
Everything was perfect.
I glanced at the calendar hanging by the door. Today’s date was circled with a bright red heart. *Seven years*. Seven years since he’d chosen me, a girl with no name and no standing, to be his. Tonight, we were supposed to celebrate, to talk about making it official, about the ceremony that would finally make me his Luna.
My inner wolf, Lyra, hummed contentedly in my mind, her tail thumping a happy rhythm against my ribs. *Hurry*, she urged, her excitement a warm buzz under my skin. *He will be so pleased.*
The lamb was done. I arranged the chops on a heated plate next to a mound of creamy mashed potatoes and roasted asparagus. It was a feast, a testament to seven years of learning his every preference, his every desire. It was my love, made tangible on a plate.
I decided to give him a little surprise. Pouring a generous measure of the amber liquid into one of the glasses, I carried it carefully, my heart fluttering with anticipation. I would bring him his favorite drink, steal a kiss, and pull him away from his work.
His study door was at the end of the hall, and as I approached, I saw it was slightly ajar. I could hear voices from within—Zane’s deep baritone, and the smoother tones of his Beta, Kian Reed.
I slowed my steps, a playful smile on my lips, ready to interrupt.
But then I heard Zane’s words, and the sound froze me in place.
“Kian, you must understand, the arrangement with Elara was always a matter of convenience. Her bloodline is common. It offers nothing. She cannot give the Blackwood Pack the strength it needs.”
The glass in my hand trembled violently. A cold dread, sharp and suffocating, washed over me. The whiskey sloshed over the rim, splashing onto my hand and dripping onto the expensive hall runner. The dark stain spread like a drop of poison.
Convenience?
Kian hesitated, his voice laced with confusion. “Alpha, I understand, but… it’s been seven years. The pack… everyone assumes she will be your Luna.”
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