Not His Mate, But A Queen

a P

e thick wood couldn't muffle the sound. It was a wave of quiet, pier

n't flinch. I kept my chin high, my expression a mask of perfect, placid calm. My mother's voice was a ghost in my ear: *Never let them see you

silver hair to my cheeks, like tears I refused to shed. I kept walking

stop beside me. The passenger door swung open, a silent invitation i

the hungry eyes of the crowd felt like a physical weight, pressing down on me, and th

ew mirror, his expression completely unreadable. Ther

sed with a solid, definitive thud, encasing us in a bubble of absolute silen

my dress, began to tremble uncontrollably. I forced them still, balling them into fists so tight

house, a monument to my shame, shrink in the side mirror

is voice calm, even.

nto long streaks of color. "He made a choice," I corrected, m

mething, to claw at my own skin. But I shoved it all down, deep into a cold, dark place inside

e Silver Moon estate. "Where are we going?" I a

lied, his eyes on the road. "

e same way my father would probe a business rival, looking for

len's loyalty to the pack also 'compr

le movement, but I saw it. I saw the flicker of surprise in his eyes in the m

er Moon pack," he stated c

arp and analytical, like I was discussing a quarterly report. "It was a strategic blunder. He

as speaking as the heir to a billion-dollar enter

ubtle shift in his tone was unmistakable. The assessment was g

ck glass facade gleamed in the rain like a predator's tooth. An idea, cold and

said, my words a double-edged sword. "Even if

king for. He saw the queen ris

d the engine. The silence was absolute. Before I got out, he t

friends for Lyra," he wa

I said, my ch

g to a low, conspiratorial whisper that

sometimes, the strongest ally is the