Chapter 122
Kara
The dining room felt like a battlefield disguised as a family meal.
Massive oak table. Crackling fireplace. Floor-to-ceiling windows framing the endless black void of polar night, snowflakes drifting past like tiny ghosts. It should have been cozy. Instead, every breath tasted like tension and barely concealed hostility.
I tugged at the high collar of my cream turtleneck sweater, but it did nothing to hide the evidence. Three sets of marks—Asher's precise bite on my left shoulder, Blake's possessive claim at the base of my throat, Cole's tender brand on my right collarbone—throbbed beneath the fabric like tiny heartbeats. Purple-blue bruises from Tyler's attack still mottled my skin like ugly watercolors.
Fuck my life. I look like I got mauled by a pack of rabid wolves.
Well. Technically accurate, I guess.
Luna Victoria's gaze swept over me with surgical precision. Her ice-cold lily-and-cedar scent sharpened in the air, making my wolf's hackles rise. Those green eyes paused—just for a heartbeat—on the shadow of a bruise peeking above my collar, then flicked to the silvery marks visible at my neckline before sliding away with practiced indifference.
She sees them. She knows exactly what she's looking at. And she doesn't give a shit.
My stomach twisted. Part of me—the stupid, desperate part that still wanted maternal warmth from this woman—wanted to explain. Tyler grabbed me. Your sons protected me. These marks mean I'm not alone anymore.
But the smarter part—the one that had survived ten years of her cold cruelty—knew better.
Victoria would never see me as anything but Connor's daughter. The living reminder of her brother's failure.
Her mouth curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "The marks are very... prominent . Such a loyal declaration." She paused, cutting her beef with deliberate slowness that made my teeth grind. "I wonder how long that loyalty will last."
Oh, fuck you, Victoria.
My wolf snarled inside my chest, clawing at my ribcage. Don't bow. You're Luna. Look up. Show teeth.
I set down my fork and knife carefully—too carefully, my hands trembling with the effort of not throwing something—and met her stare head-on. "My commitment to them won't change, just like theirs to me." I deliberately dropped the "Luna" honorific from her title, letting the disrespect hang in the air like smoke. "Victoria."
The temperature in the room dropped five degrees.
Blake's wine glass hit the table with a sharp crack that made me flinch. "Mom. We've discussed this. Kara is our mate, our chosen Luna. That's not changing."
Hell yeah, Blake. Tell her.
But my heart was still hammering against my ribs, adrenaline flooding my system. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. My body couldn't decide which impulse was stronger.
Victoria's laugh was cold crystal shattering on stone. "Chosen? Or forced to accept? You all know what her parents—"
" Enough. " Asher's Alpha Voice cut through the room like a blade through silk.
The air froze. My lungs seized mid-breath. Even the fireplace flames seemed to hesitate mid-flicker, cowed by the sheer dominance radiating from him. Every molecule of oxygen pressed down, heavy with his black-ebony-and-tobacco scent turned weapon.
Holy shit. That's... that's terrifying and hot at the same time, which is probably something I should unpack with a therapist.
"Connor and Celeste's actions have nothing to do with Kara," Asher continued, his voice lethally soft in that way that meant someone was about to get destroyed. "We will not revisit this topic."
Through the bond, I felt Blake's gunpowder scent surge with protective fury, Cole's mint-and-ozone chill sharpening into frost. Their wolves pressed against mine through the connection— we stand with you —and for the first time in this godforsaken house, I felt the weight of three Alphas at my back instead of three bullies at my throat.
It should have felt like victory.
Instead, I felt like I was going to throw up.
They're defending me. Against their own mother. In the house where they once locked me outside in a blizzard.
The irony tasted like battery acid.
Alpha Marcus cleared his throat from the head of the table, his heavy oak-and-leather scent radiating bone-deep exhaustion. "Perhaps we should focus on the meal."
Yeah, because pretending everything's fine has worked so well for this family.
"Of course." Victoria's smile never reached her eyes. She resumed cutting her steak as if the confrontation hadn't happened, each slice of the knife precise and controlled.
But I saw her knuckles whiten around the handle. Saw the tiny muscle jumping in her jaw.
She's furious. And she's just getting started.
---
The main course arrived in oppressive silence. I focused on my plate—medium-rare filet, roasted vegetables, garlic mashed potatoes—trying to ignore how every bite felt like swallowing stones. My throat was tight, my stomach churning.
Why the hell did I agree to this dinner? Oh right. Because I'm the Luna now, and Lunas don't hide in their rooms like frightened children.
Even when they want to.
Marcus broke the quiet first. "I heard Tyler Kane is in the hospital. Severe injuries."
My fork froze halfway to my mouth. Oh shit. Here we go.
Cole's response was unnervingly calm, like he was discussing the weather instead of the brutal assault he'd inflicted. "Three fractures. Dislocated jaw. Bruised ribs. He'll need at least three months to recover."
No trace of remorse in his voice. Just cold recitation of facts, delivered in that smooth, mint-fresh tone that somehow made the violence sound reasonable .
My sweet, gentle Cole broke a man's bones and doesn't regret it.
And I don't regret it either.
What does that make me?
Victoria's sharp gaze swung to me like a sniper finding her target. "What did he do to deserve such punishment?"
He called me a whore and tried to drag me out of the library by my hair, you sanctimonious bitch.
But I didn't get a chance to answer.
Blake's response came before I could even open my mouth, his voice dripping venom that made my wolf purr with satisfaction. "He insulted our mate in public. Questioned her bloodline and the authenticity of her marks. Then tried to touch her." Each word was a hammer blow, his fire-and-gunpowder scent flaring with barely controlled violence. "Cole's response was restrained ."
Restrained. Right. Because permanent disfigurement is the reasonable option.
Fuck, I need therapy. All of us need therapy.
"If I'd been there," Asher added, his tone so flat it was terrifying, "Tyler wouldn't be in a hospital. He'd be in the ground."
My breath caught. The casual way he said it—no bravado, no anger, just statement of fact —sent ice crawling up my spine and heat pooling low in my belly.
This is who they are , my wolf whispered with dark satisfaction. Protectors. Predators. Killers.
Yours.
And you fucking love it.
Victoria's lips thinned into a harsh line. "So this is how you protect her? With fear? With brutality?"