Chapter 65 Suspicion

Chapter 65 Suspicion
Coriander’s Point of View

“Where is Luka?” I asked the moment I returned to our table, my eyes scanning the entire hall as I spoke, still hoping to catch sight of Elder Mara hiding somewhere among the crowd.

I was determined not to let my guard down, even though I knew the chances of spotting her now were slim after slipping away from me in the hallway, she could have blended into the gathering or even found another way out entirely.

I saw confusion flicker across Theresa’s face as she glanced toward the space behind me. “Isn’t he with you? He went right after you the moment you left. We assumed the two of you were together all this time.”

I shook my head slowly, my brow furrowing in growing concern as I ran my gaze over the room once more, searching for that familiar figure in the maroon suit and maroon mask.

“Where could he have gotten to?” I muttered to myself before taking my seat.

“Where did you run off to, anyway? And what happened while you were gone?” Theresa asked, leaning forward with obvious curiosity.

As soon as she asked, the events of the last few minutes flooded back into my mind in vivid detail. Instead of focusing only on Elder Mara, my thoughts drifted unbidden to the other person I had encountered out in the garden—the one person I had hoped to avoid for as long as possible.

I had never imagined our paths would cross so soon. Even though I had not dared to turn around and look him in the face, I could feel it in every word he spoke and in the commanding aura that surrounded him that so much had changed about him since five years ago.

I took a deep breath. “I found Elder Mara…” I said seriously.

That single sentence immediately captured Theresa’s full attention. Her eyes widened, and she leaned in closer, lowering her voice so only I could hear. “You did? Then what happened? Did you manage to catch her? Is she secured somewhere?”

I let out another deep breath. “That is exactly the problem—no, I didn’t get to hold on to her. She managed to slip away and escape from me right when I thought I had her cornered,” I admitted, then reached for the glass of water sitting on the table, taking a few slow sips to moisten my dry throat and calm the rising tension inside me.

I saw Theresa’s shoulders slump in disappointment the moment I spoke, her earlier hope fading as she realized I had not succeeded in bringing Elder Mara back.

She was just about to say something else when the lights throughout the hall suddenly dimmed, leaving only the spotlight shining brightly on the stage—specifically on the person standing there holding a microphone. It was the clear signal that the official program was about to begin.

“Good evening, everyone! How are you all doing tonight?” the master of ceremonies greeted the crowd warmly.

A round of polite applause rippled through the hall in response, followed by soft murmurs of conversation that quickly died down as all eyes turned toward the front.

“On behalf of the Obsidian Fang Pack and our host, it is my great honor to welcome every single one of you to this very special occasion,” the MC continued. “Tonight, we gather not only to celebrate another year of life but also to honor the strength, leadership, and legacy of the man who stands at the helm of our pack—our Lycan King, King Mavros Warren Grimvile!”

The applause erupted again, louder this time, accompanied by cheers and whistles from the guests. My heart gave a sharp, involuntary jolt at the sound of his name, and I found myself instinctively tightening my grip around the glass in my hand. I forced my gaze to stay fixed on the stage, though every nerve in my body was screaming to look away.

“Without further ado, may I invite the man of the hour himself to step forward and say a few words to all of you?”

The spotlight shifted, sweeping across the stage until it landed on the tall figure walking out from behind the curtains. Every step he took seemed to command the room. Even from this distance, I could feel it—that familiar, overwhelming presence that had once been so close to me, now feeling like something entirely foreign and imposing.

As he reached the microphone and raised his head, the entire hall fell into complete silence.

“Good evening,” he said, his voice deep, calm, and resonant, which carried effortlessly to every corner of the room, sending a faint shiver down my spine. “Thank you all for coming tonight. I have never been one for large celebrations or public gatherings, but I appreciate the time and respect you have shown by being here.”

I stared at him from behind my mask, my chest tightening. He looked even more commanding than I remembered—broader, sharper, every line of his face etched with the weight of his position, yet still holding that same intense gaze.

He paused briefly, letting his words settle over the silent crowd before continuing.

“I do not hold these events often, as most of you know. But tonight, I wanted to open the doors of this hall and bring everyone together—not just as allies or acquaintances, but as one community standing on common ground.”

A murmur of agreement ran through the guests, but I barely heard it. My focus was entirely fixed on him. It felt like a thin thread was pulling tighter between us, no matter how hard I tried to keep it slack.

“Above all else,” he went on, “I want this night to serve as a reminder that the Obsidian Fang Pack stands strong, and we will not tolerate threats, deception, or secrets that endanger our people or our territory. Anyone who chooses to operate in the shadows will be found, and they will be held accountable.”

The words hung in the air like a quiet warning. My breath caught slightly, and I felt Theresa nudge my arm gently, glancing at me with a quiet question in her eyes. I gave a small, barely noticeable shake of my head, keeping my expression calm behind the mask even as my heart raced.

He could not possibly know it was me, could he?

“With that said,” Mavros concluded. “Please enjoy the food, the music, and the company. Let the celebration begin.”

Applause erupted again, louder and longer this time, as he stepped back from the microphone and nodded to the MC. The lights slowly brightened once more and the band began to play a slow, elegant melody. Guests started to rise, moving between tables, greeting one another, and filling the hall with chatter once more.

But as I looked across the room, I saw Mavros’s gaze drift slowly over the crowd, pausing for a heartbeat on the far end before sweeping back—closer to our section.

My fingers curled into a fist beneath the table, my instincts screaming at me to stay still, to stay hidden, to make myself invisible.

Don’t look here. Don’t look he—

But I felt as though my breath had been completely stolen from my lungs the very moment our eyes finally met across the crowded room. He was not wearing a mask, so I could see clearly as his eyebrows lifted slightly—as if he recognized something familiar about me, as if he was trying to place who I was behind the disguise.

“Lady…”

My gaze snapped away from Mavros the second Luka spoke, having just returned to our table. Without saying a word at first, he pulled out the empty chair next to mine, sat down heavily, and reached over to take the glass of water I had been holding, lifting it to his lips and drinking it down in one long gulp as if he had been running for miles.

I immediately frowned. “Where on earth have you been?” I asked him.

He did not answer right away. He simply took a deep breath, leaned back against his chair, and let his eyes drift toward the center of the hall, where guests were now dancing in time with the soft, flowing melody of the music.

“Come on, let’s dance,” he offered, standing up suddenly as if I hadn’t just been asking him questions a moment earlier.

“I don’t wa—”

He pulled me right up to my feet, so I had no choice but to stand. I now had my back turned to Theresa, while Luka kept gently but firmly tugging at my hand.

“Come on! It’s not every day we get this chance. Let’s just dance,” he pressed again.

I rolled my eyes behind my mask. “I said I don’t want t—”

“Nice to see you here again, Mr. Rivers…”

My words died abruptly in my throat the instant I heard that deep voice—one that had echoed in my ears just earlier before going here, and now felt like a sudden chill running down my spine.

“Thank you for inviting me, King…” Arthur said.

I snapped my gaze toward Luka, and in that split second, I caught him widening his eyes slightly, giving me a sharp, silent look that clearly meant: Let’s go. Do not argue and just play along.

I didn’t say anything more. Instead, I took the initiative and pulled Luka myself toward the dance floor. Luka stayed behind just long enough to excuse us properly to Arthur and Theresa before following after me.

“I didn’t know that you would invite such rude people, Mr. Rivers,” said Mavros, which made my feet stop moving completely.