Raiden’s POV
A haunting melody that fills the ballroom and echoes faintly in the vaulted ceilings. My hand rests on Siena’s waist, her fingers resting lightly in mine as we glide through the steps.
To anyone watching, we must look like the perfect pair—an Alpha King and his Luna, regal and poised, moving in perfect synchrony.
But beneath the polished surface, the air between us is a battlefield, fraught with tension and unspoken words.
Polished hatred—suspicion.
I watch her out of the corner of my eye, her face calm and composed, her chin held high. Her movements are graceful, effortless, as though she’s immune to the weight of the stares around us.
But I know better.
I’ve seen the way her hands tremble when she thinks no one is looking. I’ve seen the cracks
