Coming Back as Enemy's Luna

29. Sound

= Amara =

By the time the formal introductions ended, the party had already found its rhythm.

I stood beside Mikael as we moved through the crowd, my steps matching his without conscious effort. He didn’t guide me with a hand at my back or a grip on my wrist—he didn’t need to. People parted for him instinctively, bodies shifting out of our path like the tide responding to the moon. Power clung to him in a way that was impossible to ignore.

And because I was beside him, it clung to me too.

At least, that’s how it felt.

“This is my other beta, Rovan,” Mikael said smoothly as we stopped before a tall man with cropped dark hair and eyes the color of storm clouds.

Rovan inclined his head, sharp and precise. His gaze swept over me—not openly hostile, not warm either. Calculating. Weighing.

“A pleasure,” I said, smiling the way I’d practiced since arriving here. Soft. Polite. Unthreatening.

Rovan mirrored the nod, his lips curving just slightly. “Welcome to Veyrath,” she said. The words were civil. The tone… distant.

We moved on.

Gammas next—warriors, trainers, and pack protectors, Mikael explained quietly between introductions. They wore no visible weapons, but their eyes were always alert, always assessing. One of them, a woman named Elion, asked me where I was from. Not how I was—just where. As if my origin alone could explain my presence.

Deltas followed. Scouts, trackers and messengers. Their stares were heavier, more openly guarded. One of them crossed his arms as I passed, jaw tightening like he was bracing for something he didn’t yet understand.

I lost count of how many times I smiled.

Omegas were last among the pack members. They lingered near the edges of the hall, clustered together, softer voices and lowered gazes. A few of them smiled back at me—small, hesitant gestures that felt more genuine than anything else I’d received all night. One girl with braided hair whispered, “You look beautiful,” before hurrying away as if she’d said too much.

The compliment warmed me more than I expected.

Then came the Elders.

The air shifted the moment we approached them. Conversations nearby quieted, laughter dimming as if someone had lowered an invisible volume. There were five of them, seated in high-backed chairs arranged in a subtle arc, elevated just enough to remind everyone of their authority.

Their gazes landed on me one by one.

Cold. Civil. Appraising.

Elder Rowan studied me the longest. His eyes felt like fingers tracing old scars I didn’t know I had, peeling back layers I’d spent my entire life carefully maintaining. I resisted the urge to fidget, to look away. Mikael didn’t move. Neither did I.

“Amara,” Rowan said at last, tasting my name like it carried meaning he hadn’t yet decided to reveal. “I trust you are settling in.”

“Yes, Elder,” I replied. My voice didn’t waver. I was proud of that.

“Good,” he said, though his expression didn’t soften. “Veyrath values harmony.”

The implication sat heavy between us.

We left them behind soon after, the tension lingering like a chill along my spine. Only when we were several steps away did I realize how tight my jaw had become.

“You’re doing well,” Mikael murmured, just loud enough for me to hear.

I glanced at him. “If looks could kill, I don’t even think I’m still alive right now”

His lips twitched. “Good thing it isn’t then?”

I exhaled a quiet laugh, though it held little humor. We drifted toward a quieter corner of the area, near one of the tall arched windows that overlooked the territory beyond. Moonlight spilled through the glass, pale and silvery, casting long shadows across the floor.

I watched the pack from here.

They watched me back.

Every glance felt measured. Every whisper felt like it might be about me. I couldn’t blame them. I was an outsider. A stranger standing beside their Alpha during one of the gatherings of the year. I didn’t belong here—and they all knew it.

My smile began to ache.

I wasn’t sure how long I’d been holding it when I realized my cheeks hurt, my lips trembling just slightly at the edges. I forced the smile wider when someone looked my way, then relaxed it when they turned back to their drinks or conversations.

“How much longer does this last?” I asked quietly.

Mikael tilted his head, listening—to the room, I realized, not to me. “Not much,” he said. “The formalities are nearly done.”

“Good,” I breathed.

That was when it happened.

The first sign wasn’t the sound—it was the reaction.

Every head in the hall snapped toward the entrance at once.

A second later, the doors slammed open with a force that sent a sharp c***k echoing through the chamber. Wood groaned. Iron rattled. The music cut off mid-note, the sudden silence almost violent in its abruptness.

Someone stumbled inside.

They hit the floor hard, the impact loud enough to carry across the hall. Gasps rippled through the crowd. Chairs scraped back. I felt Mikael shift beside me, his posture changing instantly—predatory, alert.

The figure pushed up onto their hands, blood streaking across the polished stone beneath them.

And in that moment, I knew—

The party was over.