The air in the ballroom had shifted. The awe inspired by Beta Elias Vance’s departure was quickly being repurposed by the desperate. I watched from the rim of my champagne glass as Kirsten Matthews gathered a court of sycophants near the chocolate fountain. She was recovering from her humiliation at the piano with the resilience of a cockroach.
"Oh, it was breathtaking," Kirsten’s voice carried, shrill and performative. She flipped her blonde hair, ensuring the light caught her diamond earrings. "When I visited the Nightveil territory last spring, Alpha Kutcher Holloway and his son personally gave me a tour of the gardens. He’s quite charming, really. We had tea in the solar. He mentioned that our pack alliances were… promising."
A group of Omega females gasped in admiration, hanging on
