CELESTE’S POV
Every step of this cursed Trial had been an exercise in frustration.
If I had known better, I would have studied my teammates in preparation for the LST. Learned who these nobodies I’d been saddled with were—their strengths, their flaws, the chinks in their armor.
But I hadn’t. I simply assumed my presence, as their Alpha’s sister, would be enough; naturally, I thought they would orbit me, pulled by my gravity as the moon pulls the tide.
I'd been wrong.
Each of them grated at me in their own way—Callum’s brash temper, Lisa’s cutting remarks, Dylan’s passive aggressiveness, Elara’s blatant dismissal.
What galled me the most was the realization that they didn’t admire me. They didn’t respect me. Fuck, they barely even acknowledged me.
Sure, I had been away from the pack for ten years and barely knew them, but that should not have fucking mattered. They should have instantly warmed up to me and treated me like the royalty I am.
