Chapter 386
“Luna Adella! We didn’t expect to see you here without the Alpha King,” an older noble she-wolf purred, her eyes gleaming with malicious curiosity behind a feathered mask. Instantly, a circle of Gigi’s loyalists swarmed around me, trapping me in a cage of false smiles and hidden claws.
“Excuse me, I need to—”
My words died in my throat.
Over their powdered shoulders, in a darker corner of the gallery shielded by tall tropical plants, I saw him. Braydon Hyde.
And clinging to his arm was — me.
My breath caught. The woman wore my exact navy blue gown. Her dark hair was styled in my signature loose waves, and a delicate black lace mask obscured her eyes. But what made my stomach heave was the scent. Cutting through the gallery’s fog came a faint, sickeningly synthetic trace of Moonflower — my unique scent, clearly replicated by some dark alchemical potion.
It was a flawless, terrifying illusion. And it was positioned perfectly within the sightline of the VIP loft above.
I looked up at the dark, one-way glass of the second floor. Dallas was up there. I couldn’t see him, but I knew he was watching. If he saw what I had just seen — if he believed that was me — everything we had built would shatter in an instant.
Down in the corner, the imposter ran her hands up Braydon’s chest and leaned in to press a long, intimate kiss against his neck.
“No!” I gasped.
I shoved past the startled noblewomen, ignoring their indignant cries, and sprinted toward the shadows. But by the time I reached the tropical plants, the corner was empty. Braydon and the imposter had slipped through a side exit.
I spun around, desperate and panicked — and crashed hard into a solid chest.
Beta Duncan Whitaker stood at the base of the stairs leading down from the loft. His tailored suit was immaculate, but his eyes — usually so calm and respectful — were black with absolute, freezing contempt.
“Duncan, thank the Goddess,” I breathed, reaching for him. “You have to listen to me. That wasn’t me. Braydon hired a double — he’s trying to frame me—”
Duncan stepped back, pulling away from my touch as if I were diseased. Without a word, he raised a Pack-encrypted tablet. On the screen, a crystal-clear video played: the imposter in my dress, kissing Braydon’s neck in the shadowed corner. Duncan had recorded it from the loft. He had already shown it to Dallas.
“Save your lies,” Duncan said, his voice a hollow, emotionless void that terrified me far more than anger ever could. He looked at me the way one looks at a rogue who has just slaughtered their family. “The Alpha King was right. You are nothing but Braydon Hyde’s whore.”
The words paralyzed me. “Duncan, please. You know me. Look at the scent — it’s alchemy, it’s fake—”
He didn’t care. He didn’t hear a single word. Driven by loyalty to his Alpha and his own sense of betrayal, Duncan clamped a bruising hand around my bicep. His grip was unyielding, the raw strength of a Beta easily overpowering my wolfless body.
“Let go of me!” I struggled, digging my heels into the polished floor.