The tension in the ballroom remained thick, the echoes of Mason’s transformation still lingering in the stunned silence. No one dared to speak, to move, to even breathe too loudly. The weight of his presence dominated the space, his piercing blue eyes scanning the crowd with an authority that was absolute.
Then, slowly, Mason shifted back. His bones cracked as they realigned, fur receding, his form shrinking until he stood once more as a man—half-dressed, his tuxedo in tatters, but unshaken. His gaze remained locked onto Bettina, whose entire frame trembled under his scrutiny.
“You have no place questioning my choices, Bettina,” Mason said, his voice still holding the remnants of his wolf’s growl. “And if you ever speak to Elena that way again, you will regret it.”
Bettina’s lips parted
