Seraphina’s POV

The Packhouse buzzed with frenzied activity. Workers draped elegant silver and black curtains across the grand hall while staff members hauled expensive wine crates and gourmet delicacies through the corridors.

Soon the Gala would arrive. Fang members chattered excitedly about the celebration, completely unaware they were walking into a carefully orchestrated trap. They had no idea that Cordelia and her father planned to steal the souls of their leaders during what should have been a night of triumph.

I descended the staircase slowly, my posture deliberately defeated. My shoulders sagged forward, my hair hung limp and unkempt. Every movement was calculated to convince Cordelia that her psychological warfare had succeeded, that I was nothing more than a broken shell of the woman who once stood beside Julian.

"Perfect timing! You’re finally up!" Cordelia’s sickeningly sweet voice rang out from the living room.

I shuffled inside to find Cordelia and Vivian positioned beside a tall dress mannequin. The garment draped across it made my stomach turn. The fabric was a hideous, muddy brown that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. No embellishments, no style, no dignity. It looked like mourning attire for a peasant’s funeral.

"We selected your Gala dress," Cordelia announced, her own stunning gold gown catching the afternoon light like liquid metal. "Since I’m handling all the event coordination, I decided to assist with your wardrobe choices as well."

Every fiber of my being screamed to tear that offensive rag to shreds, but I forced my expression to remain neutral.

Vivian nodded approvingly over her delicate teacup. "The color complements your current state perfectly, Seraphina. Subdued and unassuming. Given your position as a mere runner now, you shouldn’t attempt to compete for attention."

The insult hit its mark, but I absorbed it without flinching. They wanted me invisible while Cordelia glittered beside Julian like royalty. My wolf snarled within my consciousness, desperate to shred both women and their pathetic power play.

’Patience,’ I whispered internally. ’Let them believe they’ve won.’

"Thank you," I said, my voice carrying just the right note of resignation. "It’s very practical. I’ll wear it."

Cordelia’s eyes blazed with victory. She had expected resistance, arguments, perhaps tears. My immediate acceptance caught her off guard and fed her growing ego.

"Excellent!" she practically purred. "I’ll have the seamstress adjust the hemline. Pair it with some plain flats. Meanwhile, I’ll be wearing the ancestral jewelry collection, naturally. Julian insisted I look absolutely radiant since I’ll be greeting distinguished guests at his side."

The lie rolled off her tongue so smoothly I almost admired her audacity. Julian had said no such thing, but I nodded as if her words were gospel truth.

"You’ll be breathtaking," I replied flatly before turning toward the kitchen. Their whispered giggles and satisfied murmurs followed me down the hallway. Two women convinced they had crushed their rival’s spirit completely.

In the kitchen, Roxanne worked alongside several Omegas preparing elaborate appetizers. The moment she spotted me, she gave an almost imperceptible nod of acknowledgment.

"Luna," she called out loud enough for anyone to hear. "Could you review the pantry inventory? I have concerns about the meat selections."

"If I must," I sighed with manufactured indifference.

Roxanne led me into the spacious walk-in pantry, immediately sealing us away from prying eyes. Her fingers closed around my wrist urgently.

She reached into her apron pocket and withdrew a small cloth pouch. Inside lay a gnarled, blackened root that emanated the scent of rich earth and ancient power.

"I don’t understand why you need this particular herb, but I’m grateful I could locate it for you."

"Thank you," I breathed, tucking the precious ingredient away carefully.

I emerged from the pantry and made my way back through the main house. Julian strode toward his office, and for one brief moment, our eyes connected. The warmth I knew lived there flickered before being replaced by icy contempt. To any observer, he looked like a man disgusted by his mate’s weakness.

"Seraphina," he said, his tone sharp enough to draw blood. "Have you confirmed the final menu? Don’t humiliate me with incompetence."

"I’m trying my hardest, Julian," I whispered, allowing my voice to tremble convincingly.

"Your efforts have been pathetically inadequate recently," he snapped, brushing past me dismissively.

For just an instant, his fingers grazed mine, and I felt him slip something small into my palm. My heart hammered against my ribcage, but I maintained my dejected expression.

I locked myself in the nearest bathroom and unfolded the tiny scrap of paper with trembling hands.

’I love you.’

Relief flooded through me like warm honey. He was still fighting beside me, still believing in us. I tore the message into minuscule pieces and watched them disappear down the drain.

Cordelia thought she was the mastermind, the brilliant strategist who had captured the Alpha and conquered the Fang. She had no idea that her moment of triumph would become her final performance.

I found Theo and Elena lingering in the hallway, their small faces creased with worry. They had been asking everyone about the tension between their parents.

"Mommy?" Elena’s voice was barely above a whisper. "Do we really have to attend the party?"

"Yes, sweetheart," I said, kneeling to embrace them both. "But promise me you’ll stay close to your grandparents. Never go anywhere with Cordelia or follow your father alone. Do you understand?"

"We don’t trust her," Theo declared firmly. "She smells like dying flowers."

Children’s instincts were remarkably accurate sometimes.

"I know, baby," I said, fighting back genuine tears. "Just be brave for a little longer. After the party, everything will return to how it should be. I promise."

"Will Daddy be kind again?" Theo asked hopefully.

"Yes," I whispered, my heart breaking a little. "Daddy will come back to us very soon."

The remainder of the day passed in a haze of manufactured submission. I allowed Cordelia to issue orders, endured Vivian’s constant criticism, and stood motionless while the tailor fitted that hideous brown monstrosity to my frame.

Each time Cordelia’s triumphant smile blazed in my direction, I simply stared at the floor and let her bask in her imagined superiority.

The pieces were all in position. The trap was armed and ready. Cordelia believed herself the predator stalking her prey.

She had no idea she was walking directly into her own destruction.