Jasmine's POV
The shackles bit into my wrists before I even understood what was happening.
"Jasmine Bridge." Father's voice cracked across the workshop like a whip. Two enforcers had my arms before I could set down the herb bundle I'd been sorting.
“You’re coming with us,” Father said. “Now.”
"What's going on?" I tried to twist free, but their grip only tightened. "Father, what did I do?"
He didn't answer. He hadn't been the same father since Mother died and he remarried. The stepchildren his new wife brought with her had become his favorites—especially after I turned sixteen and still failed to awaken my wolf.
From that day on, Damon and Cecilia became his family. And I became an embarrassment he kept fed just enough to work.
The enforcers dragged me through the pack house, past doors that opened a crack as we passed. Frightened faces appeared in the gaps, only to vanish again the moment I looked at them.
Nobody wanted to be seen looking at me.
By the time we reached the Great Hall, my knees were scraped raw from where I'd stumbled on the stone steps. The hall was packed.
Pack elders lined the walls. Warriors stood near every exit. At the center of them all was Alpha Marcus Thorne, his face dark with fury.
“Where is she?” he demanded. “Where is Cecilia?”
My stomach tightened.
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen her since dinner last night.”
"You're lying." My father—Beta Lucien—crossed the floor in three strides.
The back of his hand struck my cheek hard enough to snap my head sideways. Pain burst across my face, and no one in the hall flinched.
“You expect us to believe Cecilia vanished the night before her wedding,” Father said, “and her own sister knows nothing about it?”
“Stepsister,” I corrected before common sense could stop me. I slowly turned my face back toward him. “And yes. That’s exactly what I expect you to believe, because it’s the truth.”
A low laugh came from beside one of the pillars.
Damon.
My stepbrother lounged against the stone with his arms folded across his chest, dressed in the black uniform of a senior pack warrior. He looked perfectly at ease, as though I had been dragged into the hall for his personal entertainment.
“Still pretending you had nothing to do with it?” he asked.
“Still pretending cruelty makes you interesting?” I retorted.
His smile sharpened. Damon had been tormenting me since the day his mother brought him into our home. He hid my food when we were children, ruined my clothes before pack ceremonies, and made sure everyone heard whenever he called me wolfless.
Father always dismissed it as harmless teasing.
Damon and I both knew better.
“You’ve hated Cecilia for years,” he said. “You could barely look at her without choking on jealousy.”
“I was usually too busy cleaning up after her to look at her at all.”
Damon pushed away from the pillar and walked toward me.
Unlike me, he had awakened a powerful wolf. He never missed an opportunity to remind me of the difference between us. He stopped just beyond the reach of my chains and looked down at me, his expression bright with arrogant amusement.
“Careful, Jasmine. That mouth is the only thing about you anyone notices, and even that is getting tiresome.”
“Then stop talking to me.”
He leaned closer, lowering his voice just enough to make the insult feel personal.
“Admit it. You couldn’t stand watching Cecilia become the future Luna while you spent the rest of your life sorting herbs and scrubbing floors. A wolfless Omega like you would do anything to steal one night of her importance.”
“I don’t want Cecilia’s life.”
“No,” Damon said. “You just want everything she has.” His eyes moved over my soaked, worn dress with deliberate contempt. “Her status. Her beauty. Father’s love.”
That last one struck where he intended it to.
“Look at you,” Damon said coldly. “You did have a talent for causing trouble. Just like your mother. I suppose some things run in the blood.”
My hands curled into fists inside the shackles.
“Don’t talk about my mother.”
"Why not?" He smiled, slow and cold. "Everyone in this hall remembers what she was. I'd say you're doing a fine job carrying on the family tradition.”
Something ugly twisted in my chest, but I didn't get the chance to retort.
The doors at the far end slammed open hard enough to rattle the windows, and the entire hall fell silent in the space of a single heartbeat. Lucas Thorne walked in like the temperature dropped ten degrees with every step.
He was Alpha Marcus’s son, Moonvale’s heir—and the man Cecilia was supposed to marry tomorrow. Instead, he looked like he wanted to tear the building down stone by stone. His eyes found me immediately, locking on with a focus that made my stomach drop.
"You." His voice was quiet. That was somehow worse than shouting. "Where is my bride?"
"I already told everyone—I don't know."
"Funny. You don't look like you're trying very hard to remember."
He nodded once at the enforcer beside the wall, and before I understood what was happening, a bucket of ice water hit me full in the face. I gasped, choking, hair plastered across my eyes. The cold dragged a sound out of me.