Raine Pov
His words still echoed.
> You couldn't fill her shadow if you drowned in it.
I didn't touch my food after that. Couldn't. Not when my throat was still tight with heat. Not when my pride was bruised raw and my stomach felt like stone.
He hadn't even looked at me when he said it.
And somehow, that made it worse.
He didn't raise his voice. Didn't curse. Didn't strike.
He just… spoke.
And I shattered.
Now, the room buzzed with conversation, clinking glasses, the occasional clipped laughter—but I couldn't hear a word of it.
Because every time I moved, I could feel his eyes on me.
No, not his eyes.
His silence.
He hadn't spoken since that dagger of a line.
He didn't need to.
So I leaned into my role.
Played the part and hoped this dinner would end quickly.
Smile.
That was all Damon asked of me in my room an hour ago.
To be the Luna.
And gods, I hated the way that sounded.
But I nodded. Like a good girl. Like a Luna. Like someone who didn't spend years loving the man now sitting six seats away, sipping wine like it didn't taste like ash.
So I smiled.
I turned to Silas, keeping my voice. My tone light. Easy. Harmless.
> "You've barely touched your food."
His eyes flicked to me. Cold. Uninterested. Predatory in that maddening, unbothered way only Silas Duskbane could be.
"Didn't realize you cared."
Curt. Sharp.
It sliced right through my breath.
I inhaled quietly and tried again, feigning a soft laugh as I ran my fingertip along the rim of my goblet.
> "It's tradition. The Luna welcomes the heir."I said smiling.
Smiling like my husband's son—who used to have me gasping his name into stone walls—wasn't seated across from me, radiating all the menace of a bored god deciding who gets to burn first.
Silas looked… exactly like a problem.
Relaxed. Spread out in his chair like he owned the room and knew it. One arm slung over the back lazily. Dressed in black like he'd arrived straight from a funeral—possibly mine.
Delilah was curled against his side like a cat in heat, all cleavage and cherry gloss. Her laugh was fake and fluttery. Her hand was on his chest.
And he wasn't moving it.
The nerve.
The unmitigated audacity.
Play the part, I reminded myself.
"You've been quiet tonight, Silas," I said, voice so sweet it could kill a lesser man.
He didn't even look at me.
Just sipped his wine. Then—
"Maybe I just know when not to interrupt a good performance."
My smile twitched.
"I'm trying to keep the peace."I tried not to grit my teeth.
"And I'm trying to finish dinner without losing my appetite. Looks like neither of us are doing well."
Delilah giggled beside him.
He let her.
He let her.
I adjusted my seat.
Perfect posture. Perfect smile. Hands folded like I hadn't once dug my nails down his back and called him mine.
Damon had asked me to behave.
Be gracious.
Host-like.
For the family.
Not because he suspected the truth.
No.
He just thought Silas and I had grown up hating each other. That we were two wolves who never got along.
If only he knew.
"Silas," I said through my teeth, "you've always had a way of bringing chaos into calm."
He raised an eyebrow.
"I could say the same. Though, you were more of a screamer back then."
I dropped my fork.
It clanged on porcelain.
Delilah tilted her head. "Screamer?"
"Metaphor," I said quickly. Too quickly.
"Is it?" he murmured, smiling at his wine.
Then the door creaked.
Saved — or doomed — by new arrivals.
Lucan, Silas brother strolled in like he owned the house, the war, and the heavens above.
Elegant. Tall. That signature Duskbane smirk — smug, amused, deadly intelligent.
"Apologies for the delay," he said, voice dipped in velvet arrogance. "The priest tried to exorcise us again. It's becoming a routine."Lucan said in a joke.
Selene his wife glided in beside him like a blade wrapped in silk. Silver dress. Dark lips. Expression blank, eyes mean.
She looked around the room like she smelled something rotten and assumed it was me.
"Well, well," Lucan said, eyes flicking to me, then to Silas, "all my favorite disasters seated and ready."
He took his seat, still grinning.
"And our little Luna trying to look composed. That's adorable."
Selene slid in beside him, didn't smile. She never did.
> "Still pretending to be Duskbane, Raine?" she murmured, lifting her wine.
"Still pretending to like me, Selene?" I returned sweetly.
She clinked glasses with me anyway. "I don't pretend."
---
Silas hadn't said a word since they walked in.
But I saw the glance he shared with Lucan.
A silent one.
Like they were sharing some private joke I wasn't invited to anymore.
Like I used to be part of it — and now I was just the punchline.
Delilah was still glued to Silas, fingers trailing his arm like she owned it. Her laughter pierced the tension, high and artificial.
He didn't flinch.
Didn't shove her away.
But his jaw flexed.
Twice.
His silver eyes found mine across the table. For a fraction of a second. Then they dropped to Damon's hand on my wrist.
The one he had placed there moments before. Calm. Possessive.
Damon leaned in close. His voice was low and steady.
"You're quiet."
"Just tired," I replied.
His fingers brushed the inside of my wrist. I stiffened.
Across the table, Silas gripped the stem of his wine glass just a little too hard. A flicker. But I saw it.
Delilah leaned in again. "Would you like some of mine?" she purred, holding a spoon to his mouth.
He didn't open it.
Just said, "I'm not hungry."
Lucan chuckled, sipping his wine. His eyes danced between us.
"Strange," he said. "You look like you're starving for something."
Silas didn't take the bait. But his stare burned into me.
I turned to Damon. Smiled. Soft. Sweet. Touched his chest lightly.
"You always know how to make me feel safe," I said.
He looked at me with an unreadable expression. But his thumb brushed my hand in response.
Silas exhaled. Just once. But the tension rolled off him like heat.
Lucan cocked his head. "You two were always at each other's throats growing up. Strange how fate brings enemies under the same roof."
Selene snorted. "Some of us adapt. Some of us... fake it I guess."
Delilah tilted her head. "I didn't know Silas hates the Luna"
Silas finally spoke.
His voice was flat. Cold. Calculated.
"I don't hate her."
Pause.
"I just don't trust anything that switches beds as easily as it changes allegiances."
The table went still.
Lucan's smirk dropped for the first time.
Selene looked pleased.
Damon didn't move. Didn't speak.
But the temperature dropped.
I swallowed the fire in my throat.
Tried to sit taller. Breathe steadier.
But my hand shook when I picked up my glass.
Silas saw.
Of course he saw.
I couldn't do this.
Not with them watching.
Not with him watching me unravel.
I stood slowly.
"Excuse me," I said, voice even. "I'll return shortly."
I didn't wait for permission.
Didn't look at Silas.
But I felt his stare on my back.
All the way down the hall.