Soraya's POV
The dining hall was larger than I expected.
So vast that it seemed the table might stretch on forever, long enough for a hundred warriors to feast at once. The chandeliers above blazed with gold light, every crystal shard catching flame, while portraits of stern ancestors looked down from the walls as though judging who deserved to sit at this table and who did not.
I knew I didn't.
The silverware was polished to a shine so sharp I could see my reflection bent inside the knife's edge. Everything here spoke of wealth, legacy, and power—a kind of authority that had been carved into the very stones of this estate. It pressed down on me, suffocating.
At the head of the table sat him.
Ethan's father.
He hadn't spoken a word since we entered, but the silence around him was heavy, taut, and absolute. Even the men flanking him—men who carried themselves with the arrogance of belonging—kept still at first, waiting for him. Their resemblance to Ethan was uncanny enough that I assumed they were his brothers. The same hard jaws, the same broad shoulders, though each carried the resemblance differently. One lean and sharp as a blade, another thick with muscle, the third grinning with an ease that felt crueler than the others.
When Ethan's father finally spoke, his voice was the sound of inevitability.
Low. Resonant. The kind of voice that didn't need to rise because it already commanded.
"An Alpha carries not just strength," he said, every syllable deliberate, weighted. His dark eyes swept across the table, pausing briefly on each of the men before returning to his untouched glass of wine. "Strength without vision is nothing. Teeth and claws—wasted. A kingdom doesn't fall to those who are stronger. It falls to those who see further."
The words struck me like a blade in the chest.
Even though he wasn't speaking to me, I felt my body reacting—breath caught, shoulders stiff, skin prickling. His dominance wasn't just in his voice. It was in him, spilling out like an unseen storm, pressing into my lungs until I had to force myself to take a slow, steadying breath.
Beneath the table, Ethan's hand found mine. Just a brush, at first, the warmth of his fingers sliding against mine like an anchor. Then a firmer hold. Quiet. Subtle. A tether that whispered what his mouth didn't: I'm here. Don't be afraid.
But I was afraid. Terrified.
The weight of his father's voice clung to me, sinking deeper with every breath. I didn't understand how Ethan endured it so calmly, sitting tall, jaw set, while my whole body screamed to bow, to yield, to escape.
The silence didn't last long.
The sharp-featured man—perhaps the eldest—leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand. His lips curled into a mocking smile.
"Still sitting quiet, Ethan?" he drawled, his tone slick with ridicule. "Perhaps you'll let our guest know what you've been doing all these years in exile. Or… perhaps there's nothing worth speaking of?"
A low chuckle slipped from another. Taller, broader, his smirk smug. "Don't be cruel. He's done something. He's brought home a human. That's… an accomplishment of sorts." His gaze slid to me, lingering too long, his amusement flashing like teeth.
Their laughter pricked at my skin, every word another reminder that I didn't belong here.
The third, the one who smiled too easily, leaned back, stretching his arm lazily along the back of his chair. He was the one who looked most like their father, his grin wide and merciless. "At least I can say I've done more. A Luna at my side. An heir in the making. A future secured. And you, Ethan? What do you have? Shadows? Broken promises? A human girl who looks like she might faint any second?"
Heat flared in my chest, sharp and furious. Their eyes, their voices, their certainty that I was nothing but a mistake—it clawed at me.
I wanted to shout the truth, to tell them they were wrong. That I wasn't human. That I was something more. Even though my wolf hasn't awakened fully yet, but I knew I was not as fragile as they assumed.
But I stayed silent. Frozen.
Because I didn't even know where I fit anymore.
Did Ethan bring me here as his mate? Or as his assistant?
Why did they speak as though he had claimed me? And what about Lila—the girl with the steel gaze and quiet dignity who already seemed bound to him in ways I couldn't understand?
Before I could chase the thoughts further, another voice joined the chorus. Feminine. Silken.
"Oh, come now," a woman said, her smile painted like the blade of a dagger. She sat beside the boasting brother, her hand resting possessively over his wrist. Her gown shimmered like liquid silver, her hair wound in coils that gleamed in the light. A Luna. His Luna.
"Don't embarrass him in front of his… guest." Her eyes swept over me in a way that made my skin crawl. "It takes courage, after all, to sit a mortal girl at the Alpha's table. Though I suppose I can't imagine why you'd waste a chair on someone who will never truly belong here."
The men laughed again, her words striking sharper than theirs because they came coated in sweetness.
Ethan's grip on my hand tightened beneath the table. I felt the pressure of his thumb stroking once against my knuckles—steady, grounding—but he said nothing.
His silence was louder than their jeers.
And his father—his father only watched.
Not with disapproval. Not with anger. But with something colder. Something that looked alarmingly like satisfaction.
As though he wanted Ethan to bleed under their words.
As though he was waiting to see whether his son would crumble—or whether he would rise.
My pulse thundered in my ears. The laughter of the table grew distant, echoing like the growl of predators circling prey.
And for the first time since stepping into this house, I wasn't sure if the prey… was Ethan.
Or me.