Chapter 257

Ava

The Packhouse’s main hall felt like an entirely different world. The flickering candles and braziers cast dancing shadows on the walls, and the air was thick with the scent of spiced wine and perfume. Streamers hung from the ceilings, swaying in the breeze created by the dancing throng.

But most importantly, the low lighting and the sea of masks made it nearly impossible to distinguish one face from another—exactly as we had intended. The entire pack was here tonight, and the room was crowded with warm bodies and swishing dresses.

Perfect for slipping through unnoticed.

Chris and I pushed through the crowd, arm-in-arm, our faces hidden behind two ornate masks. My black dress sparkled in the light, but it was plain enough to not be too noticeable. I had my hair pulled back into a slick style to hide its natural texture, and a matching black mask in the shape of a raven’s beak.

Meanwhile, Chris wore a nondescript black tuxedo and a foxlike mask that covered the upper half of his face.

We made our way to the bar, Leonard and Ophelia breaking off from our group as soon as we got in through the doors. We couldn’t stay together tonight—it would be too obvious. Olivia and her cohorts would likely be on the lookout for groups of three or more, just in case they had a suspicion that we had returned. And after today’s battle, that was a possibility.

“Do you see her?” I whispered to Chris, standing on my tiptoes to peer over the crowd. The champagne glass in my hand felt heavy and slick. I couldn’t drink it, of course, but it was something to hold onto.

He nodded subtly, his eyes fixed on a point across the room. “There,” he murmured, leaning close. “The queen on her mighty throne.”

Following his gaze, I spotted Olivia. My breath lodged in my throat at the sight of her after all this time.

She sat regally on the gaudy throne we had prepared, looking every inch the victorious queen she clearly believed herself to be. She wore a glittering golden ball gown, a gilded fan fluttering in her hand as she surveyed her new domain with obvious pleasure. At her throat, she wore the moonstone, its pale green hue catching the light.

And beside her, ever-watchful, stood Elise—no longer wearing her Elder robes, but rather a deep burgundy gown, her silver hair coiled around her head like a snake.

“They look awfully cozy,” I growled, my fingers tightening around the stem of my glass.

Chris squeezed my hand. “Easy,” he cautioned. “Remember the plan.”

I nodded stiffly, swallowing, and set down my glass. Chris was right; this could all be so simple, so long as we followed our plan. The village and surrounding territory were crawling with watchful eyes, waiting for our signal; we just needed to corner Olivia and Elise, separate them from each other and their cohorts, and then the other Alphas would sweep in to handle the rest.

Just then, the music changed to a lively waltz. Chris swept me into his arms, joining the whirling couples on the dance floor. As we moved, I caught glimpses of Leonard and Ophelia nearby, similarly disguised and dancing.

“I wish tonight could be different,” Chris said softly, his fingers tightening around the small of my back. “I’d like to celebrate your pregnancy in style.”

I offered him a tight smile. “There will be plenty of time for real parties once this is all over.”

Chris’s jaw clenched, and he nodded. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be. You and Leonard take Olivia. Ophelia and I will handle Elise.”

Chris’s eyes, visible through the slits in his mask, searched mine. I felt his hand brush across my belly. “Be careful,” he said sternly. “If anything feels off—”

“I know,” I interrupted. “I’ll get out of there. You be careful too, you hear me? My baby needs a father.”

He pulled me close, pressing a quick, fierce kiss to my lips. “I love you,” he whispered. “Both of you.”

And then, just like that, he released me and disappeared into the crowd. I watched him go, my heart aching, before turning to find Ophelia.

She appeared at my side moments later, her grip on my hand almost painfully tight. “Shall we do this, darling?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

“Just like we practiced,” I reassured her.

Together, we began weaving through the crowd toward Elise. The music swelled around us, the rhythm pulsing through my body. We were so close—just a few more steps and we would be within striking distance of Elise.

But then, suddenly, a sharp clap cut through the music. The crowd fell silent, all eyes turning to Olivia on her throne.

“My dear subjects,” she called out, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “This is a celebration! I want to see more... enthusiasm. Let’s make this dance a bit more lively, shall we?”

There was a moment of hesitation as the partygoers looked at each other uncertainly. Olivia’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Perhaps you didn’t hear me,” she hissed.

One of her goons, a burly man with a scar across his cheek, stepped forward and growled menacingly. The message was clear: dance, or else.

As if a switch had been flipped, the music started again, faster and more frantic than before. The crowd, spurred by fear, began to move with desperate energy. Bodies pressed against me from all sides as people twirled and leaped, their movements bordering on chaotic.

“Ophelia!” I called out through the din, feeling her hand slip from mine. “Ophelia, where are you?”

But my voice was lost in the cacophony of music and movement. I spun around, trying to catch a glimpse of her familiar form, but the room had become a dizzying blur of colors and masks.

Panic began to rise in my throat. This wasn’t part of the plan. We were supposed to stay together, to approach Elise as a team.

Now, separated and alone, I felt vulnerable and exposed.

I pushed through the crowd, muttering apologies as I bumped and jostled people. My eyes darted frantically, searching for Chris, for Ophelia, for anyone familiar.

Suddenly, my foot caught on something, nearly sending me sprawling. I looked down to see a small object on the floor—a velvet box. Bending down, I scooped it up, my fingers trembling as I opened it.

Inside was a ring—an engagement ring.

Even before I brought it to my nose, I knew it belonged to Chris. My mate’s scent clung to the velvet, unmistakable and comforting. My breath caught in my throat as I realized what this meant.

He had been planning to propose.

Clutching the box to my chest, I renewed my search with increased urgency. Chris was out there somewhere, probably worried sick about me. I had to find him.

As I pushed through the crowd, I felt a tug in my chest—our mate bond, still new and unfamiliar, but undeniably present. Something was wrong. I could feel Chris’s distress like it was my own.

In the distance, I thought I saw a flash of his familiar hair. There was a commotion, people shouting and pushing. My heart leaped into my throat.

“Chris!” I shouted, no longer caring about maintaining our cover. “Chris, where are you?”

I shoved my way through the throng, my mask slipping in the process. It fell away, leaving my face exposed, but I didn’t care. All that mattered was getting to Chris.

But before I could reach him, a large form stepped into my path. I looked up to see the goon with the scar on his cheek looming over me, his face twisted in a cruel sneer.

“Well, well,” he growled. “Look who we have here.”

Before I could react, his hand shot out, connecting with the side of my head. Pain exploded behind my eyes, and the world tilted sickeningly.

The last thing I felt was a frantic tug on my mate bond before darkness swallowed me.