Talia’s POV
The sinister whisper crept through Talia’s consciousness like smoke.
“Strike back.
Make them pay for treating you like dirt.”
Her knuckles went white as she gripped the table’s edge, fighting for control.
The compulsion wasn’t ordinary anger—it was something primal, something that clawed at her from within.
The force felt alien yet familiar, as if it had always been lurking beneath her skin, waiting for the right moment to surface.
Around her, the mockery continued.
Cruel laughter pierced the air.
Hushed insults floated to her ears like poison.
The humiliation wrapped around her throat like a noose.
“They’ve earned your wrath,” the voice hissed.
“Reveal your true nature.”
Before she could surrender to the dark impulse, a strong hand settled over hers, anchoring her to reality.
Fire shot through her veins at the unexpected touch.
Her breathing faltered as she glanced sideways.
Caspian.
His hold was uncompromising, his fingers applying just enough pressure to communicate without words.
Those amber eyes of his captured hers, intense and commanding.
The silent order was unmistakable.
Control yourself.
She couldn’t tell if he sensed the transformation stirring within her.
Her heartbeat thundered, but the mysterious fog clouding her thoughts began to clear.
Her breathing evened out, and with deliberate movements, she loosened her death grip on the table and clasped her hands in her lap.
She avoided looking at Caspian again.
She couldn’t let him witness the terror flickering behind her eyes.
The fear wasn’t just about the hostile wolves surrounding them.
Something had nearly possessed her.
It transcended simple rage—it was a force beyond her understanding, beyond her control.
That realization chilled her to the bone.
A sensation of being watched made her skin crawl.
Her gaze drifted upward, catching Sybil’s piercing stare from across the room.
The woman’s emerald eyes glittered with resentment.
She had witnessed Caspian’s protective gesture.
Talia quickly averted her eyes.
The celebration resumed around them, the guests too absorbed in their own affairs to notice the silent drama that had just unfolded.
She straightened her spine, attempting to banish her unease, when Caspian made an unexpected move.
He summoned a server.
“Has my wife been forgotten during the meal service?” His tone remained measured, but steel lurked beneath the surface.
The nearby conversations died abruptly.
Those within earshot fell silent, their earlier amusement dissolving into apprehension.
The server—the same one who had deliberately spilled wine on her—went rigid.
She stared at Caspian with widening eyes.
“F-forgive me, Alpha,” she stuttered.
“It was a mistake.”
Talia could smell her fear radiating in waves.
The servant hadn’t anticipated being confronted for her deliberate slight.
Caspian’s expression remained stone-cold.
“A mistake.” He drew out each syllable with calculated precision.
The temperature in their vicinity seemed to drop.
“Are you familiar with how I handle those who bring shame to my household?” he inquired, his voice deceptively gentle.
The server’s complexion turned ashen.
“Alpha, please—”
Caspian silenced her with a look that could cut glass.
“You appear to believe withholding food sends a message.
However, I have no tolerance for insolence—particularly toward my wife.”
Talia’s breath caught.
Wife.
He had never used that word before.
Until now, she had only been ‘his bride’ or ‘little wolf’ in his vocabulary.
The server’s breathing became labored, her frame shaking.
“This disrespect ends now.” Caspian’s voice dropped to a menacing whisper.
“Cross me again, and your severed head will join my trophy collection.”
The server made a choked sound, immediately prostrating herself so low her forehead nearly grazed the floor.
“Never again, Alpha!
I give you my word!”
Within moments, a proper meal appeared before Talia.
The wine stain was meticulously cleaned, her stained goblet removed.
This time, the head butler—Caspian’s personal attendant—poured fresh wine into an unblemished glass.
Talia sat motionless, her thoughts in chaos.
Nothing made sense.
Earlier, Caspian had allowed their cruelty to continue.
He had seemed amused by their treatment of her.
Now he was defending her as if she mattered.
Was this another layer of his psychological warfare?
Or was there a deeper game she couldn’t see?
She pressed her fingers together, staring at her untouched plate.
She wouldn’t eat.
She refused to give them the pleasure of watching her accept what had initially been denied.
The evening progressed, Caspian socializing with his guests as though nothing significant had occurred.
The orchestra played, couples took to the dance floor, and the mood lightened, but Talia remained motionless, her food growing cold.
And Caspian?
He offered no words of comfort.
He didn’t inquire about her wellbeing.
He simply resumed his role as the consummate Alpha host, as if defending her had been merely a minor interruption.
Her hatred for him burned brighter.
When the music concluded, Caspian rose from his seat.
Without acknowledgment, without even a glance in her direction, he departed.
His Beta Logan trailed behind him, accompanied by an unfamiliar man.
The instant Caspian vanished, the gossip erupted.
“He’s abandoning her already?”
“The rumors are true.
The Alpha feels nothing for his new Luna.”
“Perhaps he’s having second thoughts about the match.”
“If he shows her no respect, why should anyone else?”
Talia’s hands clenched, pressure building in her chest.
She didn’t care about Caspian’s actions.
She didn’t care that he had left her isolated in that hall, surrounded by wolves who despised her.
But she loathed being their entertainment.
She despised how they fed on her degradation.
His departure was permission for continued abuse, and she wouldn’t endure their mockery any longer.
She had to escape.
As she prepared to slip away unnoticed, Madame Hildegard materialized beside her table.
“If you have finished dining, Luna, allow me to escort you.”
Relief flooded through Talia.
She didn’t care whether Caspian had sent the woman—she just needed out.
She stood immediately.
The whispers and stares pursued her, but they faded as she exited the hall.
Finally, she could breathe again.
But as she moved down the corridor, a commanding voice echoed behind her.
“Talia!”