Lydia's POV
For the first time in twenty-three years, no one was calling my name because they needed something from me.
No one wanted breakfast. No one needed clean clothes, fresh bandages, or a cup of tea carried upstairs. No one was waiting for me to scrub blood from the kitchen floor or stand outside a bedroom door until someone finally decided I was allowed to leave.
The only thing touching me was the sea wind.
It rushed across the upper deck, cool and wet against my face, tugging loose strands of my dark-gold hair from their pins. Salt gathered on my lips. Below, waves broke against the side of the cruise liner in long ribbons of white, and sunlight scattered across the water so brightly that I had to narrow my eyes.
I rested both hands on the polished railing and breathed in slowly.
Salt. Wind. Sunlight.
Freedom.
The cruise liner was the largest and most luxurious ship I had ever seen. Its white decks rose toward the sky like a floating palace, lined with glass balconies, flower arrangements, and golden lights that would glow across the water after sunset. Everywhere I looked, people were laughing, taking photographs, or carrying drinks they had no intention of finishing.
No one knew I was Lydia Vale, the daughter of the Vale family who had spent most of her life moving silently through their house like a servant.
The ticket had been a gift from a patient I had nursed through a fever when every other healer had given up on her. Once she recovered, she had pressed the first-class documents into my hands and refused to take them back.
"You save everyone except yourself," she had told me. "Go somewhere beautiful, Lydia. For once, do something only for you."
I had almost cried when she said it.
My parents saved their pride, affection, and patience for my younger sister, Celeste. I received instructions, criticism, and whatever work no one else wanted. Even when I was standing in the same room, my parents spoke around me as if I were part of the furniture.
I had told myself it did not matter. If I worked hard enough, stayed obedient enough, and proved useful enough, perhaps one day they would look at me and see their daughter instead of a burden.
That hope had survived longer than it should have.
Today, however, I wanted to leave it behind with the shoreline.
I touched the small silver pendant at my throat. The metal was warm from my skin, its familiar weight resting just above my heart.
Damian had given it to me three years ago, on the night his wolf recognized me as his fated mate.
My own wolf had never awakened.
She had been there since birth, a silent presence buried beneath my skin, but no matter how hard I reached for her, she never answered. She had never given me a scent, never lent me her strength, and never risen to meet the world around us.
Among wolves, that made me strange.
Broken, according to some.
Scentless, according to most.
But Damian had still chosen me.
He was the heir to the Silvermoon Pack, the man every unmated wolf in our territory wanted. He was powerful, admired, and born to become an Alpha.
For three years, Damian had been my mate.
He was supposed to be on the ship with me, but Silvermoon Pack's affairs had kept him busy. I understood. Once I became the pack's Luna, I would have responsibilities to share with him.
Still, I had cried for a long time the night he turned down my invitation.The sound of quick footsteps approached from behind.
"Move."
The command came before the shove.
A shoulder struck mine, hard enough to send me stumbling into the railing. My fingers closed around the metal just before my body tipped forward, and the sea flashed below me through the gaps between the bars.
I turned sharply.
"Celeste?"
My sister stood a few steps away, her golden-brown hair spilling over one shoulder and her cheeks flushed with color.
She kept glancing over her shoulder toward the crowd near the elevators, as though she were afraid someone had followed her.
"What are you doing here?" I asked. "How did you get on the ship?"
"A man invited me." She adjusted the bracelet around her wrist and gave me an impatient look. "Obviously."
I stared at her. Celeste hated leaving home unless there was a party, a photographer, or someone important waiting to admire her.
Something about her expression made the old instincts I had developed in the Vale household stir.
My wolf was silent, but I had learned to survive by noticing everything else—the pause before a lie, the movement of someone's eyes, the change in a person's breathing when they were hiding something.
"What happened?" I asked. "You look frightened."
Her expression hardened at once.
"I'm not frightened."
"You keep looking behind you."
"There's a man who won't leave me alone." She rolled her eyes, though her fingers tightened around her bracelet. "It's exhausting, being wanted this much. You wouldn't understand."
"If someone is harassing you, we should report him to security."
"God, Lydia." She brushed past me, leaving behind a heavy, sweet perfume that clung to the air. "Not everything is a crisis."
I watched her walk away, the uneasiness in my chest refusing to fade.
The deck speakers crackled, and a warm, theatrical voice carried across the ship.
"Ladies and gentlemen, good evening. We have a very special celebration planned for tonight's gala. Our honored guest, the Alpha heir of the Silvermoon Pack, Damian Sterling, will be proposing to the woman he loves."
My heart stopped.
"Please join us in the grand ballroom and witness a moment none of you will ever forget."
I stared at the speakers, my heart pounding.
He had planned this. The ship, the gala, the surprise announcement—it had all been part of the proposal. He had been here the entire time, pretending to be busy with pack business while preparing to ask me to become his Luna in front of everyone.
The disappointment I had carried for the past days melted into a dizzying rush of happiness. I had almost cried over his absence while he had been arranging the most romantic night of my life.
He did love me, I thought, pressing a hand over my mouth to hold back my smile.
***
I spent an hour getting ready.
I didn't own anything grand, but I found a simple deep-blue dress in the ship's boutique, something that skimmed my figure and brought out the amber in my eyes. I pinned my dark-gold hair up, let a few strands fall loose around my face, and stared at the woman in the mirror until she almost looked like someone who belonged here.
My hands were trembling when I walked into the ballroom.
Crystal chandeliers scattered light across a sea of silk gowns and tailored jackets. Champagne glasses caught the glow. The air buzzed with low, excited chatter, and I threaded through it with my heart hammering so hard I was sure the whole room could hear it.
I found a place near the back, half-hidden behind a column, wanting to see his face the moment he searched for me.
Then the doors opened, and Damian walked in.
He looked devastating in a tailored black suit, his dark-brown hair swept back, that confident, magnetic smile already in place. My breath caught. I lifted my hand, ready to wave, ready to—
He didn't look at me.
He didn't even glance at the crowd. He walked straight past the place where I stood, past rows of watching faces, and stopped in front of Celeste.
The ballroom seemed to tilt beneath my feet.
Celeste smoothed down the skirt of her shimmering gown, her light-brown eyes glittering, and stepped up onto the dais beside him like she'd rehearsed it a hundred times. Because of course she had. Damian sank to one knee. The ring box snapped open. A diamond caught the light and threw it back at me like a blade.
"Celeste Vale," he said, his voice ringing out across the silent room, "will you be my mate? My Luna? Will you stand beside me and give the Silvermoon Pack the future it deserves?"
"Yes," she breathed. "God, yes."
