Giselle stood before us, cradling a bouquet of fresh flowers in her arms. With a voice as composed as still water, she said, “Alpha, Luna, I’ve brought some fresh flowers.”
As I looked at her, my thoughts drifted back to three years ago.
Back then, Griffith and I had just come of age. We had grown up together, loved each other with the certainty of fate, and so, with hearts full of anticipation, we sought out the Moon Goddess to receive her blessing.
But fate had a different script in mind. The Moon Goddess did not bless our bond. Instead, she pointed to another woman—Giselle—as Griffith’s true mate.
Griffith erupted in fury. He rejected the mate bond outright, seized my hand, and turned to leave. But Giselle knelt before us, blocking our path.
“I have no family,” she pleaded. “I know I can never be the Alpha’s mate. I ask for nothing but a place to stay.”
My heart wavered. I persuaded Griffith to let her stay, even arranging for her to work in the city’s greenhouse.
Over the years, Griffith never once softened toward her. Whenever she came to deliver flowers, he would make a point of avoiding her presence. I had taken his coldness as proof of his loyalty, even going so far as to ask him not to be so harsh on her.
I accepted the bouquet from Giselle and turned away, placing the flowers into a bronze vase.
In the polished surface of the vase, I saw it.
Giselle’s hands—pale, boneless as a serpent—slithered around Griffith’s neck. Before I could react, she pressed a quick kiss to his face.
