I turned away before either of them noticed me and walked out into the night, the cold biting harder than the wounds on my skin.
The next morning, Kael came to my room. He didn’t speak at first. Just stood there, his face unreadable, eyes shadowed. Guilt? No. Not guilt. Pity.
I said nothing. I didn’t trust my voice not to break—or to kill.
Then my phone rang. My father’s number lit up the screen like a curse.
“You will attend the art banquet tonight,” he ordered. “Elowen’s exhibit. The council will be present.”
“No.” The word fell flat. I hadn’t painted in years. Not since Elowen destroyed that part of me.
Back when we were both students, art was my whole world—until she accused me of stealing her work. She framed me, and everyone believed her. I quit painting after that. I never held a brush again.
“You will,” my father snapped.
Before I could hang up, Kael spoke. “It’s for Elowen’s exhibit?” He hesitated, then added, “Just go. Please.”
For him, not for me.
Still, I went.
The Luna Gallery shimmered beneath a glass dome, moonlight spilling across marble floors. Elowen stood at the center, draped in a white gown like some celestial idol, glowing in the adoration around her.
I stayed in the corner, crimson dress clinging to my bruises like war paint. No one spoke to me. No one dared. I was the ghost sister—the scandal no one wanted to acknowledge.
Elowen smiled sweetly, voice pitched for sympathy. “Such a shame the Dravenwood Alpha still sleeps. I deserve a man of power, not one trapped in dreams.”
The guests laughed politely, oblivious.
My chest tightened. Soon, that “sleeping Alpha” would be mine to wed.
Then my gaze drifted to the canvases on the wall—and my blood ran cold.
They were mine.
Not replicas. Not copies. My original paintings—the ones I’d hidden in the attic years ago. Every brushstroke, every flawed edge, every shadow. Mine.
She’d stolen them. All of them.
My claws itched to tear through silk and skin. I was already stepping forward when the hall doors burst open.
Kael’s Beta strode in, carrying gifts—designer tools, moonstone brushes, gemstones, and embroidered gowns. All for Elowen.
Applause rose like a wave. I felt like I was drowning beneath it.
I stumbled out to the balcony, the cool air slicing through the haze of fury.
Moments later, she followed.
“Still breathing?” she asked sweetly. “Pity your mother isn’t.”
My vision went white. “Elowen—”