CHAPTER 321: INVITATION II

The car rolled to a smooth stop in front of the great hall, its polished frame reflecting the light of dozens of hanging lanterns. The sight alone was enough to stir something sharp in my chest—memories, bitter and unshakable.

Six years ago, I had stood on these same grounds, younger, naive, and foolishly trusting, foolishing believing that my power was enough to keep me safe.

Six years ago, I had been lured away from this very hall by the triplets–Adam being the chief of the madness, and almost killed.

Tonight, I was back, but not as the same girl. Tonight, I was Sage, champion of the day’s bloody race, dressed in silk, in magic, in defiance. And not foolish, or naive enough to believe revenge wasn’t necessary; that peace was better.

Maybe it was. I mused. But there was no peace without war. And that’s what I was here for, playing my role in a bigger equation; bringing down the pack for the greater good of the surrounding communities.

Well, that’s what I tell myself the little times when my mind decides to get its own personal heart.

Leon was practically vibrating beside me by the way, chest puffed like he had won some prize. His dirty blond hair had been combed to shine under the lantern light, his shoulders set proudly as though parading me was the pinnacle of his life.

He leaned forward before I could reach for the handle, blocking me with one arm.

"Not tonight, princess. I’ll get the door for you," he said, flashing that arrogant smile.

I tilted my head, amusement flickering through me at his misplaced pride. The way his voice carried was deliberate—loud enough for those nearby to hear. He wanted his friend behind to see. To know he had the champion of the day as his date.

Fool.

He slid out, making a grand show of circling the car, while I sat in silence, listening to Isla’s soft laughter in the back seat as Leon’s friend cracked jokes, probably still drunk on the illusion of importance.

When Leon opened the door, the crowd that had gathered around gasped. Stares stabbed at me from every angle—curiosity, envy, jealousy, disdain. Some faces softened with respect, but more tightened in anger, as though my very presence here was an affront.

Leon smirked at them all, and just to feed his own vanity, he placed his hand on my wrist possessively as I stepped out.

I stiffened, biting back the urge to hiss. His wink to the crowd was the final straw. But I let it happen. Let them see. Sometimes, letting someone make a fool of themselves was the sharper weapon.

"Easy now," he muttered low. He had probably sensed my disaffection for his stupid show. "They’re all watching."

"Yes," I replied just as quietly, "and they’ll remember who they’re watching, not you."

His hand faltered, but he masked it with another grin.

Isla and Leon’s friend tumbled out next, giggling as though the evening were already a victory. I let the distance between us widen as we approached the glowing gates.

Two guards in black uniforms stood at the entrance, weapons strapped across their backs, their eyes sharp. People streamed in two by two, tickets checked carefully. A strange shift from the old days.

Once, the celebration had been open to all. A communal feast. Now, the gate separated the privileged from the rest. The elites inside. The masses outside.

I thought it foolish. Stupid, even. Was the pack so fractured now that even a celebration of the Moon Goddess had become exclusive?

When we reached the front, Leon puffed out his chest and handed over his ticket. The guard scanned it, then shifted his gaze to me. His brows pulled tight.

"And her?"

"She’s with me," Leon said quickly, pride dripping from his voice.

The guard frowned. "Her name is not listed. Rules are clear—entry by invitation only."

From the corner of my eye, I caught sight of a few of my fellow contestants already inside. It seemed they had just been let through, because they were standing a few feet away from the door, holding glasses of champagne in their hands.

When our gazes met, their smug grins were lit by the bright chandeliers of the hall. What the hell? They had been invited specially. And me? The victor? Shut out.

The anger that rose in me was sharp, slicing through my composure, but I caged it behind a smile.

The guard didn’t move. "No ticket, no entry."

Leon was about to start a ruckus, considering his position in the pack, but I stepped forward slowly, until the torchlight gleamed against my face.

My voice was calm, but it cut like a blade. "If you don’t open this door right now, I’ll cut off your balls and feed them to the dogs. Then I’ll burn this entire hall to the ground and dance in the ashes."

The man paled, his throat working as though he had swallowed glass. Of course he knew I was a witch.

Isla burst into laughter, clapping a hand over her mouth.

Leon froze beside me, probably regretting ever dragging me here.

Too late, bro.

The guard stammered, then stepped aside. "Proceed... ma’am."

"That’s better," I murmured, brushing past him with a smile that didn’t reach my eyes.

–

The hall was a vision of extravagance. My steps slowed despite myself as I took it all in. High ceilings arched like the inside of a cathedral, from which hung golden banners painted with the image of the Moon Goddess herself.

I studied the face, lips twisting. Who had posed for that? Who had decided that was her likeness? The arrogance was astounding. And so was the changes that had been wrought in the hall.

The chandeliers glittered with a thousand candles, their light spilling across velvet drapes and polished floors. Tables groaned under the weight of delicacies—roasted meats, gleaming fruits, cakes so finely decorated they looked like art. Music floated from a raised platform where musicians played strange new instruments that hummed with energy. The people themselves were draped in modern fashion—tailored suits, glittering gowns that hugged curves and shimmered with jewels.

It was the most beautiful hall I had ever seen. And it was sickening. Beauty wrapped around rot.

Leon guided me toward a section clearly reserved for werewolves of rank. His hand brushed mine again, and I let it happen, my face unreadable. The moment we reached the seats, however, whispers rose.

"She can’t sit here."

"Does he think he can just bring anyone?"

"She’s no one. She shouldn’t even be inside."

Despite Leon’s status as Gamma of Daniel, the people in that space refused to budge. Their eyes were sharp, filled with disdain, their voices cutting. Leon tried to protest, but his words were drowned out by the hiss of disapproval.

Before the argument could explode, a trumpet blast shook the hall. The crowd hushed instantly. Heads turned toward the private entrance at the far side. And then they appeared.

The triplets.

Daniel. Adam. Noah.

Each entered with his bride, clothed in finery, their very presence commanding the room. The crowd erupted, then dropped low in bows. Every head bent.

Everyone except mine.

I stood straight, Isla at my side, our gazes unyielding.

Gasps rippled across the hall. The audacity. The disrespect.

Daniel’s eyes cut toward me, sharp with fury.

"You," his voice carried, commanding silence. "You dare stand when your kings enter?"

I tilted my chin. "I am not of your pack. I am not obliged to your rules."

The silence that followed was a storm held in glass.

Murmurs erupted almost instantly. Shock, outrage, fascination. Some whispered my name like a curse, others like a challenge.

I watched Daniel’s face twist with anger, his jaw clenched so tight the vein at his temple throbbed. Noah’s expression was different—eyes narrowed, but curious, as though he were dissecting me piece by piece, trying to unravel what made me bold enough to stand. Adam was unreadable, as usual, his features carved from stone.

Finally, Adam raised a hand. "Enough. Take your seats."

The hall obeyed, bowing deeper before moving again. His dismissal stung like a slap, but I forced the bitterness down. Not yet.

Leon tried once more to guide me to the table reserved for his peers, but I could already see how tightly bodies had been arranged to bar us. Their message was clear: we were not welcome.

Fine.

I turned, abandoning a frustrated Leon who couldn’t disobey his beta, leading Isla toward the contestants’ section. But when we arrived, the insult deepened. No seats. Not for me. Not for Isla.

What was this? Why weren’t we invited? I could see some losers here, even the two females... but we were not?

My jaw tightened as whispers grew louder, heads craning to watch us.

Enough.

I snatched a jug from the table, lifted it high, and slammed it down hard. The crack echoed like thunder across the hall.

Music faltered. Voices stilled. And every eye turned to me.

I lifted my chin, my voice carrying. "I won the fights. I won the race. Yet here I stand without a seat, without a place, while others feast and pretend. Is this your justice? Is this your honor? Is this how you treat your guests?"

The silence stretched. Then Adam leaned back in his throne-like chair, his gaze settling on me with quiet calculation.

"Bring her a seat," he said at last. "Place her with the elders. There is room there."

Gasps rippled. Murmurs swelled like a tide. Outrage from some, disbelief from others.

"She doesn’t belong there."

"She mocks our kings—how can she sit with the elders?"

But Adam’s voice cut through it all, sharp and final. "Silence. Let the music play."

And just like that, the matter was sealed.

I didn’t smile. I didn’t thank him. I simply walked forward, Isla at my side, every eye on me.

Tonight, I would not be erased. Tonight, I would carve my name into their memory, whether they welcomed it or not.