Behind me, Gwyneth gasped dramatically.
“Oh no, sister!” she cried. “Why would you do that? Again? Freya… is this for attention?”
The crowd turned toward me with disgust, pity, and hunger.
And then … he moved.
Gareth. From across the room, his gaze locked on me—cold, distant, Alpha‑hard. He didn’t shield me.
Didn’t growl. Didn’t protect the wolf who once carried his mark.
He shrugged off his jacket and dropped it. At my feet. Not on my shoulders. Not around me. As if he wanted to say, ‘Cover yourself. You shame us.’
I grabbed it with shaking hands and pulled it around me as I stood on trembling legs.
Gareth guided me toward the exit, his grip firm on my elbow.
No comfort. No warmth. Just the cold duty of a warrior escorting a disgraceful wolf.
In the bathroom, I shut the door fast and slid down the wall. The cold marble bit into my bare skin as I clutched his jacket to my chest. My breaths came in broken gasps. Shame crawled up my spine like fire. Tears fell hot and fast.
Outside, I heard Gwyneth’s fake cry.
“W‑Why would my sister do this?!”
Gareth’s voice followed, sharp and cold.
“The way she acts… like stripping in front of the whole pack means nothing. It’s something an innocent wolf like you will never understand, Lady Gwyneth.”
Then came the words that shattered me.
“I can’t believe a woman could act with so little respect for herself,” Gareth said. “Who undresses like that? For attention? Sympathy? A moment of praise?”
I stared at the floor.
“She’s always been an attention seeker,” he continued.
“Framing you. Acting like a… prostitute. Tonight proved it. No wolf with dignity would do something like that.”
The words were bullets.
One. After. Another.
He truly believed I wanted this. That I chose to be exposed like prey before a pack of hungry wolves. I once loved him more than the moon. I once believed the mate bond meant something. Now, I saw the truth.
Loving him had been the biggest mistake of my life.
Inside the small bathroom, my breaths came in short, shallow bursts. But with the last of my strength, I forced myself to stand, trembling.
In the cracked mirror, the reflection that stared back at me was hollow and broken. But my eyes… they burned.
I pushed the bathroom door open, wrapping my ruined dress tightly around me.
Gareth’s body stiffened. He was standing beside Gwyneth, arms crossed, jaw tight, watching. Waiting.