The ceremony was over, but the shame still clung to Celine like a second skin she could not shed. She moved through the crowd with her eyes down, her pace quick, her breath uneven. Faces blurred past her. Some looked away. Others didn’t bother to hide their stares. The whispers followed close behind her, too soft to catch but too loud to ignore.
Her father’s words repeated in her mind, steady and merciless. She does not—and will never—belong to us again. The sentence echoed like a hammer against stone.
Her arms hung heavy at her sides, her fingers shaking. She clenched them into fists, trying to steady the tremble, trying to keep her body from giving away what her face refused to show.
Then she heard her name.
“Celine.”
It came low and smooth, spoken like silk soaked in poison.
She stopped walking.
Lilith stepped in front of her, blocking the path without effort. She wore a gown of silver that caught the torchlight in every thread. The beads along the bodice shimmered with each movement. Her hair was pinned in place, not a single strand out of place. She looked untouched by the night, untouched by anything at all.
Her lips curved into a soft smile, calm and controlled.
But Celine had seen that smile before. She knew what it meant.
Lilith wasn’t here to offer comfort. She was here to finish what their father had started.
“I just wanted to say…” Lilith sighed, tilting her head, her golden hair cascading over one shoulder. “I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for you.”
Celine swallowed hard, forcing herself to keep her chin up, to not let Lilith see how raw she felt, how badly the night had gutted her.
She turned to leave, but Lilith’s fingers brushed her wrist—lightly, like they were sisters once more, like she wasn’t the very reason Celine had spent a lifetime feeling small.
“I know you must be hurting,” Lilith murmured. “I would be too. But maybe… it’s for the best?” She sighed again, this time in pity. “A Luna should be strong. The pack saw what happened tonight, Celine. They saw what you are.”
A failure. A wolf-less girl pretending she belonged.
Celine felt her throat close, her vision blurring. She’s right. They all saw.
She was nothing but a spectacle. A cruel joke.
Lilith took a step closer, lowering her voice as if sharing a secret. “I’m only saying this because I care. You always dreamed so big, Celine. But some things just aren’t meant for you.”
Something in Celine fractured. A helpless, young version of herself wanted to believe Lilith was looking out for her, that there was love in those words. But Celine knew the truth. Lilith didn’t care about her. She only cared about winning.
Celine clenched her fists so tightly she felt her nails dig into her palms. She kept her head high and her face still. She would not cry. Not here. Not in front of Lilith.
A shadow shifted over them.
Lilith’s posture stiffened, her chin tilting slightly as her eyes darted to the side.
A hand pressed gently against the small of Celine’s back. It was large and warm, steady in a way that made her breath catch.
She turned and found Leon beside her.
He said nothing at first, but his presence spoke for him. His eyes were locked on Lilith, dark and steady, and whatever he saw there made his jaw tighten. The crowd reacted around them, instinctively giving him space. No one had to be told he was angry. They could feel it.
The silence stretched.
Then Leon spoke, his voice low and cold.
"We are done here."
It was not a question. It was not a suggestion.
Lilith opened her mouth, as if she might protest, but stopped herself. Leon’s hand pressed slightly against Celine’s back, guiding her away with quiet certainty.
Celine didn’t look back. She let him lead her. And for the first time that night, she breathed.