45

The Blackstone Gala wasn't a party. It was a battlefield. New York's Plaza Hotel, third floor. Crystal chandeliers that cost more than Ava Miller's entire college debt. Men in tuxedos who owned half of Manhattan. Women in dresses that could pay her rent for a year. And Ava stood in the middle of it in a $49 white dress from Zara, holding a clutch with a broken zipper, thinking tonight was the night Jake would propose. "Ava, breathe," Jake whispered, his hand tight on her elbow. "You look... nervous." "I am nervous," she said, forcing a smile. "You said you had an announcement." Jake Blackstone. Twenty-eight. Heir to the Blackstone Hotels, or so he claimed. Handsome in that clean, Ivy League way. For two years, he had been her safe place. Her boyfriend. The man who told her she was different, special, even if she wasn't part of his world. Tonight he had promised her. Tonight he would tell everyone who she was to him. At 9 PM, the host tapped his glass. "Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Jake Blackstone has a few words." Applause. Ava's heart hammered so loud she thought everyone could hear it. Jake stepped onto the small stage, pulled her with him. This is it, she thought. He is going to propose. Jake looked at her. Then he looked away. At the crowd. At the cameras. At his mother, Victoria Blackstone, sitting in the front row with a face like ice. "Ava is a wonderful girl," Jake said into the microphone. His voice was smooth. Rehearsed. "Really wonderful. For two years, she's been... a great comfort. Loyal. Sweet." Ava's smile started to freeze. "But as many of you know, the Blackstone family is not just a business. We are a legacy. A pack. And in our world, strength matters. Blood matters." A murmur went through the room. "What are you doing?" Ava whispered, barely audible. Jake didn't look at her. He finally said it. "Ava Miller is human. No wolf. No family. No fortune. I cannot - I will not - bind my future to weakness. I am here to end things. Tonight. In front of everyone, so there is no confusion." Silence. Then someone laughed. Then another. Phones came out. Recording. Ava felt her knees go weak. The white dress suddenly felt like a costume. A joke. "You planned this?" Her voice cracked. "You brought me here to dump me?" "I brought you here to be honest," Jake said, cold. "My mother has arranged a proper match for me. Sophia Laurent. Werewolf. Pure blood. Her family owns Laurent Vineyards. That's the kind of woman who becomes a Luna." Sophia Laurent stood up from the front row. Tall, blonde, perfect. She smiled at Ava like she was looking at a stain. "Sorry, sweetie," Sophia mouthed. Ava's clutch fell. Lipstick rolled across the marble floor. No one moved to help her. She wanted to disappear. She wanted the floor to swallow her. Two years, wasted on a man who needed an audience to break her. Then the big double doors at the back of the ballroom slammed open. Cold air rushed in. The chandeliers swayed. Every werewolf in the room froze. Their heads turned. Their wolves whined inside them. A man stood in the doorway. He was tall. Six foot three, maybe more. Black suit, no tie, top buttons open. Hair black as night, pushed back. Shoulders that filled the doorway. And eyes - amber, glowing faintly even under the bright lights. Whispers exploded. "Oh my God..." "Is that Ethan?" "Ethan Blackstone is alive?" Ethan Blackstone. Jake's older brother. The true heir. Billionaire at twenty-five. Alpha King of the East Coast packs. Presumed dead in a plane crash three years ago. He walked forward. Every step was quiet, but everyone heard it. People moved out of his way without him asking. He didn't look at Jake. He didn't look at Victoria. He didn't look at Sophia. He looked at Ava. On her knees, in her cheap white dress, tears ruining her mascara. He stopped in front of her. Ava looked up, breathing hard. She had never seen him before, except in Forbes articles Jake hated. Ethan crouched. Slowly. So they were eye level. "What's your name?" His voice was low, American, rough like he hadn't spoken in a while. "A-Ava," she stammered. "Ava Miller." He reached out. Not to touch her face. He picked up her clutch from the floor. Handed it to her. His fingers brushed hers. Hot. Electric. "Get up," he said, not as a command. As a promise. Ava stood, legs shaking. Ethan stood with her. He finally turned to Jake on the stage. "Jake." One word. Jake flinched. "Big brother," Jake tried to laugh. "We thought you were - " "Dead?" Ethan smiled, but it wasn't kind. "Disappointed?" Victoria Blackstone stood, pale. "Ethan, darling, we - " Ethan ignored her. He looked at the crowd. At the phones still recording. "My brother likes to talk about blood and strength," Ethan said, his voice carrying without a microphone. Every werewolf heard the Alpha in it. "So let me remind everyone what strength means." He put his arm around Ava's waist. Pulled her against his side. She gasped - his body was like a furnace. "This woman," Ethan said, "was humiliated in my hotel. In my family name." He looked down at Ava. Amber eyes burning into brown ones. "What's more," he said softer, so only she and the front row could hear, "my wolf has chosen." Ava's eyes widened. "What?" "You're mine now," Ethan said, loud enough for everyone. "Claimed. By me." The room erupted. Jake's face went white. "You can't! She's - she's human!" "She's mine," Ethan repeated. His hand tightened possessively on Ava's waist. "And if anyone here has a problem with a human Luna, you can take it up with the Alpha King." Sophia Laurent sat down hard. Victoria looked like she might faint. And Ava - broke, humiliated Ava Miller in a Zara dress - was suddenly standing in the arms of the most dangerous, richest, most wanted Alpha in America. She should have been scared. She was. But for the first time tonight, she wasn't embarrassed. She was claimed.