Siena’s POV
The ballroom glitters with crystal chandeliers, their light refracting in a thousand directions, casting a golden glow over the polished marble floor.
The music swells, a slow, lilting melody that fills the space, elegant and haunting.
Wolves from every pack mingle at the edges of the dance floor, their laughter and conversation blending into a low hum that underscores the scene.
Here we are, moving in perfect, practiced steps, a royal couple to all appearances.
Raiden’s hand rests lightly at my waist, his fingers barely touching me, as though even this minimal contact is too much. His other hand clasps mine with the practiced precision of someone who’s been trained to waltz since childhood, but his grip is impersonal, distant.
I tilt my head slightly
