CHAPTER 3

ZARIA'S POV

The thunderous cheers of the pack hammered against my skull, each roar feeling like a physical blow to my chest. I leaned heavily against the open double doors, my hands gripping the carved wood just to stay upright. My vision was still terribly blurred from the poisoned tea, warping the entire courtyard into a fractured, sun-drenched nightmare.

Up at the altar, Garrick stood tall and unbothered, his fingers laced tightly with Cynthia's. He looked out over the crowd, his face full of arrogant pride as he publicly proclaimed her name. The pack—the very people who had smiled at me just this morning—were screaming in pure ecstasy for my sister. They didn't even notice me standing at the back. To them, I was already invisible.

Refusing to let them steal the life that belonged to me, I gathered the last of my physical strength. I tore my hands away from the wooden doors and forced my trembling legs forward, stumbling down the center aisle toward the altar.

Every single step was an agonizing battle against the dizziness spinning in my head, but the sheer horror of the betrayal pushed me through the pain. My heavy white silks dragged along the stone floor, catching on the edges of the pews as I forced my weak body to move.

I pushed past rows of sitting pack members, my eyes locked entirely on the two figures standing beneath the ancestral flames. As I got closer, the roaring cheers slowly began to stutter. Heads turned. Whispers rippled through the crowd like wildfire as they noticed the disheveled, sweat-drenched girl invading her own ceremony. By the time I reached the base of the stone steps, the courtyard had fallen completely silent, the festive atmosphere freezing into a tense, suffocating quiet.

Blinded by heartbreak and physically spent, my knees completely buckled. I collapsed heavily onto the hard stone right at Garrick's feet. I didn't care about my pride. I didn't care about how pathetic I looked in front of thousands of silent onlookers. I reached out, my fingers desperate and shaking as I grabbed the hem of his ceremonial robes, begging him publicly to remember everything we had shared.

"Garrick, please," I sobbed, looking up at him through a thick veil of tears. "Look at me. Please, just look into my eyes. It's me, Zaria. We are fated mates. You swore to me under the moonlight that I was the only one for you. You promised we would rule this pack together, side by side. Please, remember our promises, our bond, and everything I have sacrificed to prepare myself to be your Luna. I gave up my entire life for you. This can't be real."

He didn't move. He didn't even flinch. I turned my eyes to my sister, my heart breaking all over again as I looked at the person I had trusted completely. I didn't feel anger yet—only a desperate, crushing confusion. I reached my hand toward her, my voice cracking as I openly begged her for answers in front of the entire pack.

"Cynthia, why?" I wept, my chest heaving as I fought the crushing weight of the poison still inside me. "Why are you doing this to me? You are my elder sister. You loved me. You were just in my room, braiding my hair and telling me I was the perfect choice for him. How could you step into my place? And the tea... Cynthia, the tea you handed me outside the alcove. It made me so violently ill. You gave me that poisoned tea just so I would be trapped in my room, didn't you? You did it so I couldn't come down here to my own coronation. Please tell me why you hate me this much. What did I ever do to deserve this from you?"

I laid my shattered soul bare, weeping at their feet, hoping for a shred of humanity. Instead, Garrick sneered down at my kneeling form.

The warmth I had known for two years was entirely gone, replaced by a cold-blooded cruelty that made the blood run cold in my veins. He looked down at me as if I were nothing but a piece of dirt beneath his boot, completely unmoved by my tears or my mention of the bond.

"Look at yourself, Zaria," Garrick said, his voice carrying clearly over the silent courtyard. "You are a pathetic, weak disgrace. You honestly thought a true Alpha would want a fragile, spineless girl as his Luna? You are too soft to lead a pack of wolves, let alone the Blood Moon. A real leader doesn't drop to her knees and beg for a crown."

Beside him, Cynthia’s flawless facade completely dropped. The sweet, caring sister who had laced me into my silks just an hour ago vanished entirely. She leaned forward, a vicious, mocking smirk twisting her lips as she openly stared down at my desperation, completely unbothered by the accusation of the tea.

"Did you really think he loved you?" Cynthia laughed, her voice dripping with venomous amusement. "You were nothing but a placeholder, little sister. A necessary stepping stone to keep the elders satisfied until the timing was right. You actually thought a fated bond mattered to us? You've always been so painfully naive."

Garrick chuckled at her words, and like a domino effect, a wave of humiliating laughter erupted from the front rows, quickly spreading across the entire courtyard. The pack members were pointing, snickering, and mocking my tears. The very people I had loved and wanted to protect were laughing at my absolute ruin, turning my tragedy into a public spectacle. The humiliation suffocated me, burning worse than the poison pumping through my veins.

Garrick raised a single hand, and the laughing crowd instantly fell dead silent, hanging on his every move. He reached for the microphone on the altar, his gaze locking onto mine with icy, absolute contempt. He didn't just speak; he projected his Alpha voice, the commanding frequency vibrating through the air and forcing my heavy head lower against the cold stone floor.

He looked down at me one last time, delivering a final, crushing blow that sealed my fate forever.

"Strip her of her rank and status," Garrick commanded, his voice booming over the speakers and echoing into the surrounding forest. "Guards, hunt this disgrace out of our lands—she is dead to the Blood Moon Pack."