Natalie’s POV Sharon beamed, victory bright in her eyes. And before I could stop it, a single tear betrayed me, warm against my cheek. I had given him everything. I was a fool… I thought standing here would change something. I thought… just for a second – he would look at me and remember. But he didn’t. And that hurt more than anything they could do to me now. “Search her,” she pressed sweetly. “Make sure she didn’t hide anything.” Jensen didn’t look at me. “Take her away.” I laughed. “Why?” I asked, forcing myself upright despite the pain. “Afraid of witnesses?” The guards hesitated. Good. I stayed where I was – already exposed, already stripped of everything that mattered. There was nothing left for them to take. Whispers spread through the hall. Different now. “Those scars…” “Those aren’t rogue wounds…” The realization rippled outward. One of the older messengers leaned forward, his brows drawn tight as his gaze traced the lines across my back. “That’s not recent,” he muttered under his breath. “That’s years of damage…” Years. Yes. Some younger pack members covered their mouths, trying to hide the horror etched on their faces. A few older ones shook their heads slowly, muttering curses under their breaths: “Who… did this to her?” “Why hasn’t anyone stopped it?” Sharon’s composure flickered but only for a second. “Don’t be fooled!” she snapped. “She’s putting on a show—” She spoke quicker now. Too quick. “She probably got those in some back-alley fight after we kicked her out… she’s a thief, a liar—” Her words stumbled over each other. She turned abruptly, grabbing Jensen’s arm. She was losing control. And she knew it. Her eyes wide and pleading. “Jensen, please. She’s ruining your signing. Make them take her away.” Jensen froze, stone still, eyes bloodshot. His head dropped, eyes fixed on the floor, and my chest shattered all over again. His hands curled into fists at his sides, then loosened, then tightened again like he couldn’t decide what to do with them. “Get her out of here,” he commanded, his voice barely a whisper. “Drag her if you have to.” “There is no need for such violence,” a calm voice interrupted. The crowd moved aside. Arthur, the family butler, stepped forward. He was the only person in that house who was ever kind to me; he used to sneak me bread when I was locked away. He carried a silver tray with a glass of red wine. “A toast,” Arthur said, his voice carrying a strange, resonant weight. “To the ‘Keeper’ of the Nightfang Pack.” Sharon straightened immediately, pride rushing back into her posture like she had been handed a crown. “A celebration,” he continued, his gaze steady, “of her… absolute honesty.” For the briefest second, something unreadable flickered in his eyes. Then it was gone. Sharon didn’t notice. “Finally, someone with some sense,” she sneered, looking down at me with pure loathing. She lifted the glass to the room. “To the truth!” She drained the glass in a single, greedy gulp. I felt a cold peace settle over me as I watched the wine disappear down her throat. Jensen watched her, too. Her parents looked smug and happy. Arthur didn’t look at his masters. He looked at the gathered Alphas; his voice turned very cold. “I should inform the Council,” Arthur said. The room went silent. “That wine contained a truth serum. It is an extract from the Old Texts. No one can resist it. Not even an Alpha.” Sharon froze. The empty glass slipped from her fingers, shattering against the stone. Jensen’s head snapped toward the butler. His calm expression fell apart, replaced by a sudden, dreadful realization as he looked from the glass to Sharon’s glazing eyes. The high beams of the Lodge felt like they were heavy and suffocating. Sharon stood in the center of the hall, frozen. She was paralyzed. Shards of glass from the shattered goblet lay all over the floor around her feet. Her eyes – once full of fragile, sickly charm were wide and glossy… looked hollow. Mindless. I stayed on my knees, watching it all unfold. I felt a pang of satisfaction watching her crumble. Every lie she had built, every mask she had worn, was unraveling before the eyes of the most powerful wolves in the territory. A few messengers gasped; some shifted uneasily, their eyes wide as they watched her lose control. Beside her, her parents were frozen in panic. They had spent eighteen years pretending to be noble. Now, the butler they had treated terribly was destroying their reputation. “What… what did you do?!” Jordan – Alpha Jordan – roared. His voice cracked as he stepped toward Arthur. I flinched at the sound, a reflex born of eighteen years of seeking his approval, only to be met with the cold realization that I was never truly his. To him, I was a tool to hide; to Sharon, I was trash, meant to be thrown away. Nothing more. Arthur didn’t flinch; he kept his hands behind his back. He looked at the gathered Alphas with total calm; even the Nightfang guards didn’t move to stop him. “I provided the means for the truth to be heard, Alpha Jordan,” Arthur said. His voice was steady. He turned to Sharon. His eyes were cold. “Miss Sharon, tell the Alpha. Tell him about the marks on Natalie’s back.”