Elsa’s POV
The dining hall still buzzed in my ears long after I had left it. The stares, the whispers, the weight of every gaze pressed on me as though I had swallowed fire. Dylan’s words replayed in my mind again and again: “She sits beside me because she belongs here.”
He had spoken with such certainty, his tone brooking no argument, but the memory brought me no comfort. If anything, it made my pulse race faster. His declaration had silenced the murmurs in the hall, yet silence did not mean acceptance. It only meant the pack would whisper later, out of his hearing. And their whispers were always sharper than open insults.
When we rose from the table, Dylan’s hand had brushed mine briefly as he leaned close and ordered, “Go and change. You will meet my mother and my sisters. They shoul
