Dylan’s POV
The night refused to rest. Even after the moon had climbed high above the Red Claw Palace, the halls still hummed with tension. Servants whispered as I passed, lowering their heads, pretending not to see the fury written across my face.
They had tried to harm her.
Elsa. My Luna. My mate.
The thought alone sent a growl rumbling through my chest as I stalked down the corridor toward the east wing. The head seamstress was being held there trembling, tear-streaked, waiting for me to decide her fate.
When I entered, she fell to her knees. “My Lord— I swear, I didn’t mean any harm!”
“Then explain,” I said coldly. “Explain why a thread laced with powdered wolfsbane was sewn into the lining of the Luna’s coronation gown.”
She began to shake. “I—I received orders, Alpha. A letter
