Natalie’s POV Jensen’s grip was a vise, cold and mechanical. He wasn’t protecting me; he was suppressing me. His eyes flicked nervously toward the Great Hall. “Go home, Natalie. Now,” he hissed. The low-frequency vibration of a growl rippled through his chest – a warning he had never used on me in five years. “This is my ceremony, Alpha,” I whispered, stepping into his space until I could smell the sharp tang of his breath. “After five years of spilling ink to write your legacy, don’t you think it’s time I finally stood in the light?” His pupils blew wide, the gold of his wolf flashing at the edges of his irises. “It’s not your time. I’ll arrange a formal introduction later. Just go.” He was looking past me, checking the perimeter for prying eyes as if I were a stain on his polished floor. The foolish, desperate part of me that still loved him died. He gave me nothing… no honesty, no apology. He was already looking past me, checking to see if anyone had noticed the stray at the door. “You really plan to reveal my identity later?” I asked. “Stop being unreasonable,” he snapped, his thumb hovering over his phone to call security. He was ready to have me dragged away like garbage. “I’m not leaving.” My voice cut through the heavy air of the hall like a blade. I didn’t wait for his response. I slipped out of his reach and stepped into the center of the hall, heading straight for the light of the massive chandeliers. I raised my right wrist, making sure the crystal lights caught the glow of the sacred stone wolf charm. These stones were rare, limited relics that only past Alphas knew how to find. Because I was a True Transcriber, I had been able to gather them through the secrets I deciphered in the old texts. I had spent months carving this specific design, intending to give it to Jensen as our mating gift. Now, it was just another thing he had let Sharon claim. I gave her a slow, provoking smile. Now, Sharon was wearing a cheap imitation, and she couldn’t stand the sight of the original. She stormed forward, shoving my shoulders with enough force to put me to the ground. “Natalie! Where did you get that charm? Did you steal it?” The room went dead silent. The rhythmic drumming of conversation died instantly as every messenger and Alpha in the Lodge turned to look. The weight of their collective stares was suffocating. “A wolfless… stealing?” the whispers rippled through the crowd. “This is mine,” I said, my voice steady enough to ring against the vaulted ceiling. Sharon let out a jagged laugh. “Yours? A broke fraud like you?” She turned to the crowd, playing her part with crocodile tears. “This is the fake daughter our family raised. We kicked her out five years ago because she couldn’t keep her hands off things that didn’t belong to her. And now it seems she’s still the same.” I looked at Jensen; he knew the truth. He had found me shivering in the rain after that “kicking out” and had treated the whip wounds on my back himself. But when I looked at him now, he looked away. He surrendered to the lie to protect his status. “Ms. Summers,” I called out, “Accusing me of theft because of a past you invented? Do you have any proof I haven’t made something of myself?” “Something of yourself? You’re a thief… nothing more,” Sharon sneered. “Everyone knows today’s ceremony features the Accord translated by the ‘Keeper.’ Well – I’m the Keeper. That design is mine. Alpha Jensen can confirm it.” The room erupted. The representatives from the other packs surged forward, looking at Sharon with reverence for a power she didn’t possess. I looked only at Jensen. I needed to hear him pull the trigger himself. “Jensen—” Sharon murmured, clutching his arm. He caved. “Yes,” he said, the word sounding like a death knell. “Sharon is the Keeper. She’s been the chief translator for five years.” My heart cracked. No one knew better than Jensen that I had bled for those translations. No one knew better that Sharon couldn’t read a single letter of the Old Tongue. Fine. So be it. Sharon turned to the guards, her face smug. “You heard the Alpha. She stole it. Security! Strip her and check her for the other relics she’s hidden!” Two guards slammed me against the cold stone floor. The impact knocked the air from my lungs, but the sound that followed was worse: the violent screech of silk tearing. My shirt was ripped open. The freezing air of the Hall hit my bare skin, exposing the silver network of whip scars that ran from my shoulders to my waist. The room went dead silent. Even the Alphas held their breath. “Jensen,” I choked out, my head forced up, eyes locking onto his. “Look at me. Tell this room… swear to the Moon Goddess that Sharon is the one who bled for your name.” He didn’t answer. His gaze slipped past my face… and fell to my back. He stared at them as though he’d been struck, like the sight of them hurt him all over again. Because he had seen them before. Five years ago, when he found me broken and barely breathing. When those same scars had been open wounds. I remembered him then – on his knees behind me, fingers trembling as he cleaned and wrapped my back layer by layer. Whispering promises: “You’re safe now.” “I’ve got you.” “I won’t let you die.” And then suddenly, his entire demeanor changed. His jaw tightened as his hands curled into fists. And he took a half-step toward me. But Sharon was faster. She grabbed his arm hard. “Jensen… my stomach… it hurts…” she whimpered. A lie I knew all too well. Jensen froze. The warmth in his eyes faded into something I had never seen. He looked at Sharon like she was fragile, breakable – like the truth alone might shatter her. When he faced me again, my chest tightened. The man who cared for me was gone. “She’s my Transcriber,” he said, his voice flat and clinical. “Sharon is the Keeper.”