CHAPTER 75: CHAPTER 75: THE STORM IN HIS EYES

Selene’s POV~

My blood turned cold.

Why was he here?

Never...not in a thousand lifetimes, did I think I would meet him like this. Amid chandeliers and laughter, in a hall full of rotting wolves and power-hungry Alphas. Of all places, this was the last I ever expected to see him.

The Silver Dawn Alphas never came to gatherings like these; they kept to their own lands, aloof and untouchable. That was why I had dared to step into this den of beasts in the first place. I thought he would never be here.

And yet he was.

Even though my face was changed, my hair was as black as ink instead of silver, and even though my very scent was twisted by enchantment—I could not be sure. Would he still know me? Would the mate bond tear through all my protections and strip away my mask in an instant?

It shouldn’t be possible. I had used the strongest spell, the kind that bent bone and breath itself. It should hold. It had to hold.

I forced my lungs to steady and my heart to slow. I could not let fear unravel me tonight. I would not ruin everything because of him.

So what if he recognized me? I had done nothing wrong. I had no reason to hide. Why should I always be the one to bow my head, to run?

No. Not anymore.

But then, his scent hit me harder, sharper, and stronger, curling around me like invisible chains. My body shivered against my will, my blood traitorous as it pulled toward him. I cursed under my breath, cursed the mate bond, and cursed the demon part of me that wanted to throw myself at him. I hated it. I hated him. I hated the way my own body betrayed me with every breath.

I tried to bury myself deeper into the crowd, slipping between shoulders and gowns, eyes lowered.

And then I felt it.

A gaze.

Heavy and Unyielding.

When I finally looked up, my breath caught.

Storm-grey eyes were locked on me, pinning me where I stood. The hall, the crowd, the music—all of it fell away until there was only that gaze. For a single heartbeat, I forgot how to breathe, my heart pounding wild and nervous inside my chest.

But my face stayed calm. No flicker, no emotion, no weakness. I met his stare with ice.

Then—just as suddenly—his eyes slid away.

Relief crashed through my lungs, my breath escaping in a quiet sigh.

I turned away too quickly, forcing my trembling hands to still. To anyone else, it would seem as though I was merely admiring the polished chandeliers, the sweeping gowns, and the laughter that gilded the air. But inside my chest, the old wounds bled anew.

My eyes wandered—first to Aeron, striding ahead, the other Alphas trailing behind him like dogs desperate for scraps. A year ago, they had only just risen to power.

New Alphas, freshly crowned, their dominance still uncertain, still contested. Yet now others almost bent their knees at their boots, offering flattery and alliance in exchange for a piece of that growing power.

How ironic, I thought, that both they and I had come so far in such a short time. A year ago, I had been nothing more than their broken toy, their shadow, their shame. And now, here I stood here, free enough to stand in a hall they once would have barred me from.

My gaze lingered on Aeron, not with hatred—no, never quite hatred—but with something colder, heavier. I did not detest him the way I loathed his brother.

Perhaps it was because Aeron had always been aloof, distant, and untouchable. Perhaps because he had never directly dirtied his hands on me. Or perhaps because, in his eyes, I had always been too far beneath his notice to bother with.

Was that mercy? Or was that cruelty in disguise?

It didn’t matter. The truth would not change: he was still one of them. Still a brother to the one who had shredded my life apart piece by piece while he stood silent in the shadows, watching, never stopping him.

I scolded myself for the way my thoughts betrayed me, dragging me back to places I had sworn never to return. The past was a corpse I had buried, yet it clawed through the dirt again and again, dragging me down with it. No matter how I fought, it was always there—waiting and whispering.

And worse, I always found myself wondering.

What if?

What if my fake father had not done what he had? What if I had never help him, never been chained to that cursed fate? What if I had been allowed to live untouched, unbroken?

Would the mate bond have been different?

Would he and I have walked another path, one not smeared with blood and betrayal? Could we have... perhaps... been happy?

The thought carved through my chest like a knife, leaving me raw.

Even witches believed in the sanctity of the mate bond. One soul, divided into two halves. No matter the distance, no matter the worlds that lay between them, you were destined to find each other. You were meant to be whole only when you stood side by side.

But in my case, my other half was my enemy. My bond was a curse, not a blessing. The men fate had given me—the ones who should have cherished me as though I were breath itself—were the very ones I loathed, the very ones who made me wish I had never been born.

How ironic.

My chest ached as I thought it, the pain pressing against my ribs, desperate to break free. I swallowed it down, let my lips curve in a faint, polite smile for the strangers around me, though inside my heart was screaming.

It would be so easy to cry here. To collapse. To let the weight of it all crush me down until I was nothing but dust. But no—I had long learned the art of silence, of stillness, of holding myself together when every part of me wanted to break.

So I stood straighter. I held my head higher.