_Zarelle’s POV_
A month later.
The crystal chandeliers radiated welcoming lights across the marble floors of the Missatian Packhouse, catching every sequin and jewel adorning the elite wolves gathered for the annual Pack Revelry.
I stood at the edge of the grand ballroom, my emerald gown flowing like liquid silk around my ankles, watching the spectacle unfold with a mixture of dread and curiosity.
One month had passed since my father and I struck our deal, no return banquet in my honor, but mandatory attendance at this gathering I'd successfully avoided for years. Alpha Merek had made his intentions crystal clear: he wanted me to survey the field of eligible he-wolves, to find someone who could make me forget the Ashmoors entirely. If only he knew how impossible that task wou
