The next day, the scent of Midnight Crest hit Celine before she saw them. The crisp pine and familiar spice of home, tainted by something else—something sharp and sour that made her stomach coil.
They came for the Luna Ceremony after all.
Celine stood at the main gate as the figures emerged, moving in a careful, practiced formation. Lilith led, head high, golden hair gleaming in the afternoon sun, her steps full of purpose. Behind her, Celine’s mother walked with effortless poise, not a single strand of silver-blonde hair out of place. Her father beside her, hands clasped neatly behind his back, surveying Leon’s fortress like he was assessing its worth.
Luke trailed just a step behind.
He looked different here, out of place against the dark stone of Crimson Fang’s stronghold. His eyes found Celine before she could pretend not to notice, lingering for a second too long.
She sat up a little straighter, trying not to look like it got to her.
They weren’t supposed to come. Not really. They had ignored her for years, cast her out, stripped her of everything, and yet—here they were.
Leon’s pack was large enough to house every dignitary arriving early for the Luna ceremony, and her family had accepted the invitation without hesitation. For alliances, of course. For power. Never for her.
Lilith reached her first, all smiles and stretched affection, her voice pitched perfectly loud enough to carry across the crowd.
“Celine!” She didn’t hesitate, looping her arms around Celine in an embrace that felt more like a performance than a greeting. “I knew we’d see each other again! We heard about your nomination. Isn’t it exciting? Soon, we’ll both be Lunas.”
Celine stood stiff in her hold, the words settling like cold stone in her chest.
Lilith leaned back just enough to meet her eyes, her blue gaze glittering. “Oh—but a Luna needs her wolf. Remind me, sister, have you shifted yet?”
The words sliced through the air like a blade. A hush settled over the gathered pack members. Celine felt their stares, their curiosity, the weight of the moment pressing down on her.
Lilith smiled, the kind that barely masked the cruelty beneath it.
Celine forced her chin up, forced herself to stay still. She wasn’t sixteen anymore. She wasn’t the girl who flinched when Lilith spoke.
But before she could react, Luke moved—his arms looping around her in a firm, quiet embrace. He held her like something familiar, something steady. Not for show, not for politics. Just for her.
He dipped his head, voice low enough that only she could hear.
“You’re going to be an incredible Luna, Celine. I know it.”
Her breath hitched. For one brief second, she let herself believe him. Then, she felt the slow curl of Lilith’s fingers at her sides. Tightening. And when Celine finally pulled away, she didn’t look at Luke. She looked straight at Lilith.