Chapter 8

Lucas's POV：

My gaze locks onto that fleeting figure by the second-floor railing—that familiar silhouette, that graceful posture, nearly making my heart skip a beat.

Sophia?

I'm about to stride toward the staircase when a sickeningly sweet voice calls out from behind me.

"Lucas!"

I stiffen and turn around to see Aria, who's somehow followed me here. She's wearing an exquisite champagne evening gown, her makeup flawless, walking straight toward me with a smug smile plastered across her face.

"What the hell are you doing here? Didn't I tell you to stay home and think about what you've done?" I barely manage to keep my irritation in check.

"I was worried you'd be bored out of your mind at such a formal event all by yourself," she links her arm through mine with practiced intimacy. "As your mate, I should obviously be by your side."

The whispers around us immediately surge in our direction, each word stabbing at my nerves like daggers.

"That's not his Luna, is it?"

"Can't believe Alpha Lucas brought someone other than his Luna to such a formal shindig..."

"Guess the mate bond really is that strong. Poor Luna who's been with him for four years..."

"I heard she's just some orphan. No wonder she can't hold a candle to a fated mate."

My fists clench involuntarily, and my gaze drifts back up to the second floor, desperately searching for that figure, but the hallway is empty as a tomb—nothing there. Did I imagine it? Was it just wishful thinking on my part?

"Lucas, are you even listening to me?"

"Cut it out." I irritably shake off Aria's grip and step back. A flash of hurt crosses her face, but I can't deal with that drama right now.

The murmurs around us continue, buzzing like a swarm of angry bees, giving me a splitting headache that feels like my skull's about to crack open.

Every snide comment about Sophia makes me realize for the first time just how blind I've been to her situation all these years. The guilt hits me like a freight train.

Just then, the music in the ballroom suddenly shifts from light social background music to something more formal and elegant. The lights gradually dim, and everyone's attention is drawn toward the stage like moths to a flame.

"The ceremony's starting," Aria says softly, trying to sidle up to me again, but I've already turned toward the stage with the other guests.

The spotlight slowly brightens, focusing on a figure at center stage. My breath catches in my throat instantly.

It's the same figure I glimpsed on the second floor, except now she's wearing an exquisite silver mask that covers most of her face. But those eyes, gazing quietly down at the audience through the mask, are both familiar and foreign—like déjà vu that won't quit.

"Holy cow, is that the princess? She's drop-dead gorgeous," Aria whispers beside me in awe.

The woman on stage slowly lifts her head, and though I can't see her eyes clearly, I can feel her gaze sweep across the audience like a searchlight before finally settling on—my exact location.

In that moment, the entire world goes dead silent. The music becomes white noise in my ears, the surrounding chatter disappears into thin air, even my heartbeat becomes barely audible.

Only her, standing in that beam of light, like some ethereal vision stepping out of a fever dream.

"Sophia..." My lips move soundlessly, her name both honey-sweet and bitter as hell on my tongue.

No way, impossible. Sophia's just an orphan, I tell myself with a bitter laugh—just some resemblance, that's all. Besides, the aura radiating from this woman on stage is so powerful, so confident, nothing like the Sophia who was always walking on eggshells around me, scared of her own shadow.

But why, why the hell is every fiber of my being drawn to her like a moth to a flame?

I stare at the figure on stage without blinking, afraid to miss even the smallest detail. My eyes are glued to her until she gracefully turns and disappears behind the stage curtains like smoke.

"Lucas? You okay there?" Aria asks softly, but I'm in no mood to respond.

A wave of restlessness suddenly washes over me like a tidal wave. I need a drink, need the burn of alcohol to numb this inexplicable pain and confusion that's eating me alive. I stride toward the bar in the corner of the ballroom, grab a whiskey, and knock it back in one gulp.

The liquid burns like fire down my throat, but still can't chase away that indescribable longing gnawing at my chest like a hungry beast.

The amber liquid swirls in the glass, just like my chaotic thoughts right now. I pour another, then another, trying to drown my sorrows.

Those eyes, that familiar feeling, haunt me like a ghost that won't rest. The alcohol begins flowing through my bloodstream, bringing temporary numbness that feels like a Band-Aid on a bullet wound.

The guests around me are living it up, laughter and music blending together in a symphony of celebration, but to me it all sounds like distant noise—like I'm underwater and everyone else is on the surface.

Just then, a familiar name cuts through the noise clear as a bell.

"Sophia!"

I jerk my head up, thinking the booze is making me hear things. But as the arguing voices get louder and clearer, I realize this isn't some alcohol-induced hallucination.

"...what gives you the right to be here?" That's Aria's voice, dripping with obvious venom and rage.

"Why shouldn't I be here?" another voice fires back, and that tone... my heart nearly stops beating altogether.

I follow the sound through the crowd and flickering lights to the other side of the ballroom, where I clearly see that face—the face that's been haunting my dreams and waking hours.

Sophia's face.

It really is her. No doubt about it.

"Sophia..." I whisper her name like a prayer, my voice barely audible in the noisy environment.

I set down my glass with shaking hands and walked toward them, my steps slightly unsteady from the alcohol coursing through my system. The booze has made my thinking sluggish as molasses, but one thing remains crystal clear—I need to get to Sophia, come hell or high water.