My Sister Stole My Mate And I Let Her (Seraphina) novel Chapter 346

Chapter 346: Chapter 346 ROOM 417

SERAPHINA’S POV

“Where’s Kieran?” Maya asked lightly. “I’m bored and could do with some eye-contact porn.”

I rolled my eyes as I scanned the room from our spot near the front of the hall.

He was no longer by the central staircase.

Nor among the cluster of Alphas near the west pillar.

Nor along the perimeter where he liked to observe unseen.

“I’m not sure,” I admitted.

We had separated to avoid any more attention. He’d given me that small nod of silent reassurance before drifting out of the ballroom.

But that was about half an hour ago.

“I’m sure he’ll be back in time for his speech,” Ethan said.

Probably," I replied, forcing my shoulders down as tension wound tight across them.

Kieran was Alpha. People requested him constantly. A private word. A quick negotiation.

I was sure there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for his absence.

And yet...

My fingers tightened slightly around my clutch as the emcee stepped onto the stage, smile bright and effortless. “Ladies and gentlemen, Alphas and Lunas, honored guests—before we hear from our distinguished host, we invite you to enjoy a commemorative reel celebrating the legacy of the Hunting Festival.”

Polite applause rippled through the hall as the lights dimmed, and a large screen silently descended.

I slipped my phone from my clutch and texted Kieran.

Me: Hey, where are you? 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

No response.

Bright footage of past Hunting festivals filled the screen. Young wolves competing in archery trials. Packs laughing around bonfires. Training drills under full moons. Interviews with past winners, their faces proud and glowing.

As the crowd oohed and aahed, I tried calling Kieran.

It rang.

And rang.

And went to voicemail.

A chill ran down my spine.

The screen shifted to highlight reels of the hunt—combat flashes, wolf forms colliding, cheers erupting.

Then the footage stuttered, static rippling across the massive screen before the montage dissolved into something else entirely—dim lighting, unfamiliar shadows, the unmistakable outline of a bedroom that had nothing to do with any festival.

The camera angle was skewed, as though placed deliberately but discreetly.

Amber light spilled across a rumpled bed where a female figure lay draped in silk that slipped over bare skin, while a darker silhouette stood at the bedside.

A hush spread through the ballroom, confusion flickering over faces as the image sharpened just enough to outline the thick arms, wide frame, and shadowed jawline of a man.

The lighting hid certainty but not implication.

Ethan went rigid beside me, and Maya’s fingers tightened around my wrist as I struggled to remember how to breathe.

Before the image could resolve further, the screen went black, and the lights snapped back up to full brightness.

A stunned, suffocating silence fell over the room.

Then Gavin’s voice filled the room, amplified through hidden speakers. “Ladies and gentlemen, our sincerest apologies for the technical malfunction.”

He stepped onto the stage as though nothing had happened.

“Alpha Kieran has been called away due to an urgent matter requiring his immediate attention. However, in his absence, he has prepared something special for you all.”

He gestured grandly. “A fireworks display at the rooftop garden. A spectacle worthy of this year’s festival opening.”

There was a beat of hesitation. A moment of ‘Are we just going to pretend that didn’t happen?’

Then staggered applause.

Music surged back to life as servers began guiding guests toward the elevators and rooftop staircases.

I stood where I was, unease sharpening inside me.

That image.

That room.

That silhouette...

I glanced down at my phone.

No new message.

No missed call.

I closed my eyes and let my senses expand, not in a reckless surge that would draw attention, but in controlled, deliberate threads that slipped quietly through the edges of the ballroom.

I searched for Kieran, allowing the music and conversation to recede from my awareness as I reached beyond the walls, along the north corridor, the west wing, the upper floors, finding nothing distinct at first.

Then I felt it—a subtle disturbance, a dense, contained presence watching—and my eyes opened.

Vidar stood across the hall near a column, a champagne flute dangling between his fingers. His gaze was fixed on me, his lips curved. Even from here, I could see the amusement dancing in his eyes.

He inclined his head—then began walking toward me.

Ethan shifted, taking a half-step forward.

Vidar stopped just within conversational distance.

“Well,” he said lightly. “Seems we were robbed of quite a show.”

My jaw tightened. “Excuse me?”

He sighed theatrically. “The footage looked interesting. Shame it cut so early.”

Vidar’s gaze slid lazily over my shoulder, then back to me.

“I’m sure if you hurry,” he continued, voice low enough for only us to hear, “you might still catch the grand finale.”

My heart pounded.

“I hear the masterpiece is being shot in Room 417,” he added casually.

Heat flared behind my ribs.

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