By the time they arrived back at Crimson Fang, everyone knew.
Celine had barely stepped through the gates before the whispers started—hushed voices trailing behind her, watchful eyes cataloging her every move.
No one called her a rogue anymore. No one sneered, no one dared shove past her like she was nothing. Because she wasn’t nothing anymore. She was Alpha Roman’s daughter. And that changed everything.
Now, they measured her worth. They weighed what she could offer, what she could threaten, how she might tip the balance of power.
No one had cared when she scrubbed their floors. But now?
"She’s the eldest Quinn."
"She has a claim to Midnight Crest."
"If something were to happen to Lilith—"
Celine nearly tripped over her own feet when she caught that last one. Because the thought had never crossed her mind. Not once. She had spent her whole life pushed aside, treated like she barely existed, and now suddenly, she was a contingency plan?
The realization settled in her stomach, heavy and unwelcome. And then, as if the universe wasn’t already testing her patience, Elder Marvin found her.
He had a way of appearing exactly where he wanted to be—always one step ahead, always calculated, always just amused enough to make Celine wonder if she was walking into a trap before she even realized the game had begun.
He greeted her with a smile as sharp as the blade tucked at his hip.
“My dear, what a fascinating turn of events,” he mused, gesturing for her to sit. Celine didn’t.
“Is it?” she said coolly.
Marvin chuckled, swirling his goblet of wine. “An Alpha’s daughter, hidden away, only to resurface at the right moment? Some would call it fate.”
She arched a brow. “And some would call it bad luck.”
His grin widened, but there was no real warmth to it. “Lilith has secured her place—for now. But should anythinghappen to her, to Luke… well. The pack will need strong leadership.”
A cold laugh slipped from her lips. “If you think my parents would ever let me rule Midnight Crest, you might be losing your edge.”
Marvin’s fingers tapped against his goblet, slow and thoughtful. “Parents have a way of becoming… irrelevant, when the tides turn.”
Something in Celine’s stomach twisted, because he wasn’t wrong. Because she knew how power worked in their world—it was only loyal to the strongest.
He watched her, waiting to see if she’d react, waiting for a slip, a moment of weakness. But Celine said nothing.
And then he tilted his head, his voice dropping just enough to make her spine stiffen.
“There’s another matter I wanted to discuss.”
She didn’t like his tone.
“The Luna Nominations are approaching,” he continued, lifting his goblet to his lips. “Crimson Fang has been without a Luna for far too long, and I imagine Alpha Leon will be choosing a mate soon.”
Celine’s fingers curled at her sides.
“I do hope you won’t stand in the way of that,” Marvin said, watching her like she was a particularly interesting puzzle.
Her pulse slowed.
He was testing her. Watching her and waiting to see if she would react.
Because people were talking.
They had seen her at Leon’s side. They had seen the way he looked at her, the way he let her sit beside him, the way he hadn’t looked at anyone else since. And they had drawn their own conclusions.
Marvin leaned in slightly, lowering his voice just enough to make it feel like a shared secret. “The Alpha’s favor is no small thing,” he said, smiling as if he were paying her a compliment. “Some climb the ranks through battle, through blood and strategy.”
He paused, eyes flicking over her in a slow, calculated sweep.
“Others,” he went on, “seem to rise a bit faster. No training. No title. Just… the right willingness to spread their legs for the right man.”
The words hit like a slap—calm, deliberate, dressed in silk but sharp as a blade.
Celine went still. Her fingers dug into the edge of her chair, nails biting into the wood. Her blood roared in her ears.
Marvin smiled wider, as if he hadn’t just gutted her in the middle of the hall.
“Of course,” he added, with a little shrug, “we all play the hand we’re dealt. Some just use what they have.”
He lifted his wine in a mock toast, eyes still on her. “I trust we understand each other.”
Then he drained the glass, turned, and walked away without waiting for a reply.
Celine didn’t move. Her face burned, her pulse thundered, and fury coiled hot in her chest.
And Leon—Leon still hadn’t said a word to her since the kiss.
Now the rest of them had already filled in the blanks.