The hall fell silent as the old woman's jeweled fingers clasped Isabella's trembling hand. With surprising grace, she drew her to the front of the podium, her voice rising above the restless murmurs like a cracked bell that still demanded worship.
"Ladies… gentlemen… wolves and shadows," the grandmother began, her lips curling in that half-smile of hers — the smile that looked less like kindness and more like mockery dressed in silk. "Tonight, you stand in the presence of not just my granddaughter… but the heiress of what you all thought was dead — the true bloodline of the Crimson Pack."
A ripple went through the crowd. Theodore's jaw tightened; Dantae's eyes narrowed. The siblings — especially the blinded half-sister groaning somewhere in the corner — could only gnash their teeth, helpless.
The old woman tilted her head, her purple-tinted gaze fixed on Isabella. "Ah, the Purple Eyes. Once they lit this land like fire, brighter than the moon, feared more than any Alpha's bite. And then — pfft — gone. Erased. Vanished, as if they had never existed." She gave a mocking shrug, her tone sharp with sarcasm. "Some say they disappeared because of betrayal, others say because of greed, but I… oh, I say it was stupidity. Yes, stupidity, the purest curse of all. My ancestors were so busy drowning themselves in wine, pride, and bed sheets, they forgot their throne was built on blood — not bliss."
Her words dripped like venom, and yet the hall remained captivated. Even the enemy Alpha leaned forward, intrigued.
She chuckled, low and humorless. "So, the Purple Eyes were lost. For decades, generations called it a curse. 'The strongest have perished,' they said. 'The gods have punished us,' they cried. But the truth, my dear pack," — her eyes scanned the crowd like a blade — "the truth is… the blood was never gone. It was simply waiting. Waiting until it found someone worthy, someone who wouldn't squander it on foolishness."
Her grip tightened on Isabella's hand, making her wince slightly. Then, in a voice like velvet dipped in poison, she declared:
"And here she stands. Isabella. The curse lifted. The lost flame rekindled. The Purple Eyes returned — brighter, sharper, crueler than ever. Look at her! The purest blood of Crimson, the strongest of us all."
Gasps filled the hall. Theodore's stare darkened with something unspoken. Dantae's lips curled into a dangerous smirk.
The grandmother, ever the narcissist, raised her goblet high, the jewels on her fingers catching the torchlight. "So, let us drink — to the curse undone, to the blood restored, and to the delightful irony that it comes in the form of the girl you all mocked, the girl you all doubted." She paused, her gaze flicking meaningfully toward the siblings. "How deliciously humiliating, don't you think?"
Her laugh, sharp and silvery, echoed through the hall. Then, turning back to Isabella, her tone softened in a way that startled everyone present. "And tonight, my darling… you will not just claim your bloodline. Tonight… you will find your partner. The one fate carved for you. Let's see," she smirked, raising her glass again, "who bleeds first."
The hall erupted in whispers, the tension tightening like a noose. Theodore clenched his fists, while Dantae's smirk deepened — both alphas already knowing the storm had begun