The night air crackled with energy, warm from the roaring bonfires set along the pack grounds.
Sparks flew like tiny stars as laughter and music filled the air.
Young werewolves danced in circles, their shadows flickering wildly against the trees, while lanterns hung from branches, casting golden pools of light across the clearing. The scent of roasted meat and spiced drinks mingled with the forest air, intoxicating and alive.
Romilda lingered near the edge of the festivities, her arms crossed over her chest, watching the revelry with detached caution.
She didn't want to be here. She hated crowds. She hated noise. But her mother had insisted.
"You can only live your life when you're young, Romilda," Priscilla had said, her hands firm on her shoulders. "You can't hide forever. Tonight, you go. Enjoy it."
With a reluctant sigh, Romilda had stepped into the party, the warmth of the fire brushing her cheeks as the laughter of the pack washed over her.
"Romilda," a soft voice called.
She turned, heart skipping. Martin approached, his long strides cutting through the dancers and laughing wolves with ease. His golden eyes searched hers, concern softening his usually intense gaze.
"I heard what happened," he said gently, leaning slightly closer. "Are you… okay? You weren't hurt, right?"
Romilda shook her head, forcing a small smile. "I'm fine. Really. Nothing happened that I can't handle."
Martin's lips pressed together, satisfaction flickering across his expression. "Good. I just… wanted to make sure."
Romilda nodded, shifting slightly as the crowd around them pulsed with laughter and music. It felt almost surreal, this lively celebration, the carefree chaos of young wolves, and here they were, in a bubble of quiet amid it all.
A few paces away, Lisa's friends whispered among themselves, eyes darting between the pair.
"Oh… is Martin getting back with Romilda?" Clara whispered, smirking.
Bridget leaned closer, her voice pitched low but sharp with excitement. "Maybe he doesn't want Lisa anymore… maybe he wants his real mate." She added with a giggle, after seeing Lisa's face, "You know how men behave,"
Lisa's head snapped toward them, fury flashing in her golden eyes. "Shut up! I said never speak of Romilda again!" Her voice carried through the crowd like a whip, drawing a few glances, but her friends shrank back, obedient yet wide-eyed.
Before the tension could settle, a familiar figure appeared at the edge of the bonfire glow. Henry. His presence commanded attention even without effort, and the girls' whispers shifted immediately.
"As the saying goes, when one door closes," Clara muttered under her breath, "another opens."
Henry's gaze found Lisa, his expression calm but intent. He stepped forward, his posture radiating quiet authority. He wanted to speak with her, clearly, and there was no mistaking it.
Lisa's lips pressed into a thin line. "We're busy," she said sharply, refusing to budge as he approached. But Henry's determination didn't waver; his eyes followed her, waiting.
Finally, she sighed and motioned to her friends, leaving them behind. As they walked away from the laughing crowd and flickering bonfires, she turned on him, her tone sharp and impatient.
"What?" she demanded, her hands on her hips, eyes flashing.
Henry's lips curved slightly, a hint of amusement behind his seriousness. "We need to talk," he said evenly, stepping closer.
Lisa's jaw tightened, and she crossed her arms, defiance blazing in her eyes. "I mean right now,"
Henry didn't flinch. "I didn't come for easy."
The wind from the bonfires stirred the edges of their tunics, throwing sparks of light across their faces. The forest beyond the celebration seemed to hold its breath.
Lisa stopped walking and spun around sharply, annoyance flashing across her face.
"What do you want, Henry?" she snapped.
Henry didn't answer right away. He lifted his chin instead, pointing past the firelit crowd.
Lisa followed his gaze.
Romilda and Martin stood near the bonfire, talking quietly. Firelight flickered over them, softening their expressions. They looked… close. Comfortable and Happy.
Henry's voice lowered.
"Look at them," he said. "That kind of happiness can only happen for you too if you stop running from what we are. If you let us be mates."
Lisa let out a sharp laugh. "Don't be ridiculous."
"Martin is already happy with his life," Henry pressed. "He's not choosing you. But I am."
Something dark flickered in Lisa's eyes.
The sight of Romilda and Martin happily together made Lisa's blood to boil.
She stopped Henry before he could say more.
"Enough!!!
I've been patient long enough," Lisa said coldly.
Henry blinked. "Lisa—"
"I Lisa Vale reject you as my mate."
The words landed like a slap.
Henry froze, shock draining the color from his face. "You… what?"
"I reject you as my mate," she repeated, louder, crueler. "I don't want you. I never did."
Panic flared in his eyes. He reached out and grabbed her arm, gripping her tightly.
"Take it back," he said hoarsely. "You don't mean that. You can't just..."
Lisa shoved him hard. "Let go of me!"
She straightened, eyes burning with contempt.
"You deserve this. You were never enough. And don't deserve me, donbother me again."
Henry staggered back, chest heaving, the bond between them screaming in agony.
Lisa turned away without another glance and walked back toward the bonfire toward Martin and Romilda, leaving Henry standing alone in the shadows.
While music and laughter carried on, inside Henry, something snapped.
And this time, it wasn't heartbreak that filled him.
It was rage.
Lisa came between Romilda and Martin, her smile polished and eyes glittering with something sharp beneath.
"Well," she said sweetly, tilting her head, "This is… surprising."
Romilda stiffened.
Lisa's gaze slid between them. "I thought you rejected her, Martin." She smiled wider.
"So are you two back together now?"
Martin's jaw tightened instantly.
"What do you want, Lisa?" he snapped, anger barely contained.
She raised her hands in mock surrender. "Nothing at all." Her tone was airy. Pleasant. Fake.
"I'm very happy for you two. Truly."
Her eyes flicked to Romilda.
"I just hope," Lisa continued softly, "that Romilda is getting used to being rejected on a daily basis."
A pause.
"Or maybe not."
She let out a light giggle that was cruel and deliberate, then turned and walked away, disappearing back into the firelit crowd as if she hadn't just struck a blade between them.
Romilda's chest tightened.
Martin swore under his breath. "Ignore her."
Romilda nodded, but her fingers trembled slightly around her cup.
Because Lisa's words had landed exactly where they were meant to.
And somewhere in the shadows, Lisa smiled already satisfied.