Chapter 182
Elena’s POV
The reception was moved along, but with heavy tension and brittle cheerfulness. It was all force, and it felt like a play being
performed by puppets.
The towering six–tiered vanilla almond cake that looked more like a piece of art than food had been cut, and the dance was about to begin.
I remained seated beside Deacon, watching the scene unfold before or with my back resting and my hand swirling the sparkling water in my glass.
Suddenly, I felt a foreboding feeling, one that had been recurring in my chest strice the wedding, and I didn’t see a trace of Glenda. My chest felt heavy, and there’s relentless uneasiness in my gut.
Glenda’s silence was sure becoming more deafananing than her usual chantic tactic
“You’re tense,” Deacon observed, his hand resting warm and heavy around my shoulder, his thumb tracing soothing circles against my skin.
“I’m waiting,” I murmured, watching the double doors at the fat end of the hall as if there would be some monster coming in at any moment, before voicing out my worry, “She’s not the type to let a spotlight shine on someone else without trying to steal it.
”
“If she comes, she will regret it,” Deacon promised with finality in his tone. He understood who I meant without me even
needing to specify.
As it summoned by his words, the heavy oak doors at the entrance didn’t just open. They slammed against the walls with such force that the wood cracked. The sound was like a gunshot in the enclosed space, halting everyone.
And there she was.
Glenda stood in the doorway, face darker than the night sky outside. She looked dishevelled, almost like a madwoman, which wasn’t surprising after everything she had been through. But what’s really made everyone gasp is that she’s wearing a white dress that looks suspiciously like a cheap wedding gown with the hem stained with mud and its shoulder sleeves torn as if a wild
animal had chewed on it.
“Stop!” she yelled, her voice cracking and echoing off the high ceilings.
“Stop this wedding! It’s a fraud!” she continued, eyes wandering around.
The guards near the door hesitated for a brief moment, clearly taken aback by her sudden intrusion.
Glenda used that moment to stumble into the room, her heels clacking unevenly on the marble floor.
“You can’t do this, Bryson!” she screamed, pointing a shaking finger at the head table. Her eyes were wide, manic, and bloodshot. “I am the Luna! Me! I am the one you love!”
I felt Deacon stiffen beside me, his muscles tense. His Lycan blood and dominance radiated off of him, looking ready to pounce, but I placed a hand on his arm.
“Wait,” I whispered, watching the scene unfold with a detached, clinical curiosity. “Let’s see what he does.”
Bryson stood up slowly. He didn’t look frightened. He looked exhausted, and for the first time since I had known him, completely sobered by the reality of his choices. He stared at Glenda not with love, or even lust, but with pure, unadulterated revulsion.
“Glenda,” Bryson said, his voice carrying across the silent room. “Get out.”
Glenda froze, her face crumbling into a mask of confusion. She staggered closer, ignoring the gasps of the guests. “What?
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Bryson, baby, it’s me. It’s your Glenda. We’re soulmates, remember? You rejected Elena for me! You chose me!”
“And it’s the biggest mistake I have ever made,” Bryson spat, stepping around the table to put himself between Glenda and his new wife. “I chose a delusion. We’re not meant to be together. You were a mistake that cost me everything.”
“No…” Glenda whimpered, clutching her stomach in a theatrical gesture. “Don’t say that. I’m pregnant! I’m carrying your heir! You can’t marry her!”
The room erupted in whispers. It was a desperate, classic move. Bryson didn’t even flinch.
“You’re lying,” he said coldly. “And even if you weren’t, I wouldn’t let a child of yours anywhere near this pack. You are poison, Glenda. Look at yourself. You’re pathetic”
Glenda stumbled back as if slapped. She looked around the room, searching for an ally, but found only disgust. Then, Lady Elara stood up.
The new Luna was a head taller than Glenda and radiated the kind of icy, aristocratic power that Glenda could only dream of faking. Elara smoothed her pristine gown and walked closer to them. She didn’t shout. She didn’t look angry. She looked like she was inspecting a stain on the carpet.
“Is this the mistress?” Elara asked, her voice crisp and clear.
“She is nothing,” Bryson answered instantly, turning his back on Glenda to stand beside his wife.
Elara nodded once and took two steps toward Glenda, stopping just out of reach.
“You claim to be Luna,” Elara said, a cruel smirk playing on her lips. “But a Luna has dignity. A tuna has grace. You look like a rabid dog that slipped its leash.”
“I am the true Luna!” Glenda screeched, lunging forward with her claws extended
Before she could get within three feet of Elara, two massive Royal Guards, Deacon’s men, intercepted her. They didn’t handle her gently. They grabbed her by the arms, wrenching them back. Glenda thrashed, screaming obscenities, her legs kicking uselessly in the air.
“Remove her,” Elara commanded, her voice bored. “And throw her off the territory. If she returns, treat her as a rogue trespasser. I don’t want to see her face again.”
“No! Bryson! Help me!” Glenda wailed, looking at the man she had manipulated for years. “Don’t let them touch me! I love you!”
Bryson didn’t even look at her. He offered his arm to Elara, leading her back to their table. The ultimate rejection. He erased her
from his existence.
As the guards dragged Glenda backwards across the polished floor, her heels scraping loudly, her wild eyes locked onto me.
“You did this!” she screamed, spit flying from her mouth as she struggled against the guards‘ iron grip. “You witch! You took everything from me! This should be me!”
I didn’t flinch or frown. I simply picked up my glass of champagne and raised it slowly in the air as if I was giving her a toast while meeting her crazed gaze with absolute tranquillity.
“I didn’t take anything, Glenda,” I said, my voice calm enough to cut through her shrieking. “You lost it all on your own.”
The guards shoved her through the double doors and into the night. The heavy wood slammed shut, silencing her wails instantly.
Silence hung in the room for a heartbeat. Then, Elara clapped her hands twice.
“Well,” she said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Now that the entertainment is over, let’s have the music back, shall we?”
The orchestra hesitated, then launched into a cheerful waltz. The guests, taking their cue from the new Luna’s steely
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composure, returned to their conversations, though the air was buzzing with the thrill of the drama.
I sat back in my chair, feeling a knot in my chest loosen–one I hadn’t realised was still there. The villain of my past wasn’t a monster anymore. She was just a sad, broken woman thrown out into the dark.
“Are you satisfied?” Deacon asked, leaning close to my ear.
“More than satisfied,” I whispered, turning to face him, a genuine smile spreading across my face. “I’m free. Finally, completely free.
The past was dead. Glenda was gone. Bryson was miserable. And I was exactly where I belonged, sitting on a throne of my own making, beside the man who treated me like a queen.
“Let’s go home,” I told him. “I’ve seen enough.”
Deacon stood, pulling me up with him. “As you wish, my love.”
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
