Chapter 122
Ronan Duskcliff had never been denied entry anywhere in his life.
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And yet here he was, standing at the edge of the Mooncrest Grand Hotel’s gala hall, blocked by a glorified Beta with a clipboard and far too much self–importance.
His expression was storm–dark. The muscles in his jaw ticked dangerously.
This wasn’t just any night. This was the Stormridge Matriarch’s eightieth year.
Every key figure in the werewolf world was inside that room. Investors. Alphas. Elders. Kingmakers.
And Ronan needed them p>
The Duskcliff Pack had been hemorrhaging alliances for months. Stock value plummeting. Old partners backing out.
He needed to mend the cracks–and tonight was the perfect chance. If he could charm Lady Duskgrave, maybe even strike at deal for the Eastern Wastelands redevelopment, he could stop the bleeding.
He had to get inside.
But no matter how many credits he waved or how low his voice dropped, the security wolf didn’t budge.
Then, a familiar voice drifted toward him like lavender smoke.
“ Brother Ronan p>
He turned, startled.
Scarlett Vale stood a few paces away, arm linked with a strikingly regal she–wolf in deep crimson silk–Lady Seraphina Duskgrave herself.
Ronan blinked, “Scarlett? What are you doing here p>
The young she–wolf gave him a sweet, practiced smile. “I’m here with my dearest friend. Her mother–in– law is the guest of
honor tonight. ”
She turned, playfully tugging on Seraphina’s sleeve. “Dearest, you’re the Alpha Prince’s wife. Can’t you help my poor brother
Brother‘ The guard’s ears twitched. That word again. Too casual. Too intimate.
Seraphina, ever the performer, smiled coldly. “The Matriarch is my mother –in–law. You’re blocking her bloodline.
The Beta’s face shifted from defiance to alarm. “Apologies, Lady Seraphina! I didn’t realize–of course, I didn’t mean any disrespect. But I do still need to confirm-
She didn’t let him finish.
From her clutch, she produced a shimmering gold–embossed invitation–the unmistakable mark of a direct Duskgrave heir.
Most wolves had simple crimson parchments. Cold was for the bloodline.
The guard bowed deeply, inspecting the seal, then stepping aside. “My deepest apologies, Lady Duskgrave. Please, come in”
Seraphina raised her chin with cool elegance. “They’re both my guests. They enter with
There was a flicker of hesitation in the Beta’s eyes–but he nodded. “Of course
And just like that, Konan was in
They stepped through the arched doors into the grand ballroom– and were instantly swallowed by a sea of golden light and murmuring voices
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Chapter 122
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A massive crystal chandelier cast halos across the marble floor. She wolves in flowing gowns moved like colored flames between silk–draped tables. The air was thick with perfume and pheromones–power, beauty, and the unmistakable tension of a thousand hidden agendas.
Ronan’s eyes scanned the room. His Alpha instincts kicked in–sizing up rivals, sniffing our opportunity.
He spotted a few key investors from the Western Dominion, and with a brief nod to Scarlett and Seraphina, moved away to
engage.
Scarlett watched him go without a word. Her focus was elsewhere.
She was searching for him.
Lucien
Her breath hitched slightly. That was the only reason she had come tonight p>
Not for the Matriarch. Not for some “celebration.” She wanted to stand beside Lucien Duskgrave–no, she wanted to own that space beside him.
But the ballroom was too full. Too loud. And he was nowhere to be seen.
Her heart, once light with anticipation, now sank with unease.
Why isn’t he here?
She excused herself from Seraphina with a soft, “I’ll just freshen up, and slipped out of the ballroom.
The corridor outside the banquet hall was quiet, gilded with antique sconces and lined with dark oak doors. Scarlett lingered near the restrooms, hoping he might pass by.
Ten minutes. Nothing
So she drifted toward the upper level, where the private lounges and guest suites were reserved for direct descendants and inner–circle guests.
Just as she turned the corner–she froze
From the end of the corridor, a door creaked open.
And out stepped Piley Vale.
Scarlett’s breath caught in her throat.
She hadn’t seen her in days.
And yet, there she stood, bathed in soft gold light, dressed in a gown so ethereal it looked conjured from moonlight.
The pink chiffon fluttered around her in layered waves, like clouds dyed in dawn. Her skin, fair and huminous, held the faintest rosy
flush. Her lips, painted a soft cherry red, curved with serene detachment. Loose tendrils framed her face, caught against a tiara of pale silver and crystal thorns.
Scarlett stood stunned.
Riley looked like a princess from an ancient prophecy. No–worse. She looked like something meant to be worshiped.
Behind her, a well–dressed male attendant–likely a steward or escort–was carefully adjusting her train.
The contrast was unbearable
Scarlett’s jaw tightened.
What the hell is she doing here?
And why does she look like that?
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Riley met her gaze briefly. Cool Unmoved. A slight arch of her brow the only acknowledgment.
Then, without a word, she turned and descended the stairs toward the ballroom.
Scarlett remained frozen in place, heart pounding with something between rage and dread.
She had come here to shine. To capture Lucien’s attention.
But now, a ghost from the past had returned–wrapped in silks and power–and threatened to steal the entire night.
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