I stand before the ornate mirror in my chambers, adjusting the deep burgundy velvet gown I've chosen for tonight. The rich fabric hugs my curves perfectly, its elegant cut striking the right balance between formality and approachability. I've swept my dark hair into a sophisticated updo, leaving a few soft tendrils to frame my face.

I look every inch the future Luna Queen.

The irony makes my stomach turn.

Tonight, I'll sit across from King Alexander knowing the truth. The man who ordered my family's execution will smile warmly at his son's mate, never suspecting that she's the sole survivor of his massacre. All those previous encounters—his paternal approval, his kind words about my place in the family—suddenly take on a sickening new meaning.

"Aubrey?" Knox's voice carries through the heavy wooden door, warm with anticipation. "Are you ready?"

Ready to face my family's murderer over dinner? Ready to smile at the monster who destroyed my world?

"Almost," I call back, my voice steadier than I feel.

I take one final breath, letting the mask of devoted fiancée settle over my features like armor. Tonight, I play the loving mate. Tonight, I begin gathering the intelligence that will bring them all down.

When I open the door, Knox's sharp intake of breath is audible. His green eyes travel over me with an appreciation that once might have thrilled me. Now it just reminds me whose blood runs in his veins.

"You look incredible," he murmurs, offering his arm with courtly grace.

I take it with a smile that doesn't reach my eyes. "Shall we?"

***

The castle's grand dining room glows with warm candlelight, crystal chandeliers casting rainbow patterns across the polished mahogany table. Rich tapestries depicting royal hunts line the walls, and the scent of roasted meat mingles with expensive wine and fresh flowers.

Conversation fills the air—Iris laughing at something Astor says, Noah discussing trade agreements with Queen Grace, the comfortable chatter of a family gathering for an evening meal. But the moment Knox and I step through the doorway, silence falls like a curtain.

All eyes turn toward us, curious and expectant. I catalog each face automatically: Iris perched beside her massive mate, her dark hair gleaming in the candlelight. Noah adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses with nervous precision. Queen Grace elegant in midnight blue silk. Astor's imposing presence filling the space beside him.

And at the head of the table, King Alexander.

My blood turns to ice the moment our gazes meet. Those are the eyes from my nightmares—sharp, intelligent, utterly without conscience. The face that commanded my family's slaughter now smiles at me with warm paternal approval, and bile rises in my throat.

Knox clears his throat, drawing everyone's attention. "Before we begin dinner, Aubrey and I have some news to share."

He glances at me with such genuine affection that guilt twists in my stomach. Then his hand finds mine, fingers intertwining with casual intimacy.

"We've decided to get married."

The announcement hits the room like a thunderclap. Iris squeals so loudly I'm surprised the crystals don't shatter, while Noah nearly chokes on his wine. Queen Grace's face lights up with maternal joy, and even Astor looks pleasantly surprised.

I blink, caught off guard by Knox's casual delivery of what should have been a carefully planned revelation. But I adapt quickly, nodding as he continues to tell them how I came around even after his failed proposal.

"She reconsidered," Knox says, his thumb stroking over my knuckles. The touch sends unwanted sparks streaking up my arm. "After the proposal went badly, I thought that was it. But something happened, and she agreed that we could make this work, as partners, as a team.

He makes it sound so reasonable, so natural.

"Oh my God, finally!" Iris launches herself from her chair, rushing around the table to envelop us both in an enthusiastic embrace. "I knew you'd come around! Tell me everything—when did you finally say yes? What changed your mind?"

The rapid-fire questions make my head spin, but I force a laugh that sounds appropriately flustered. "It's all happened so quickly—"

"Well, that's a relief," Noah chimes in, adjusting his glasses with a wry smile. "The royal council was starting to ask uncomfortable questions about the ceremony timeline.

"That's quite a turnaround after the proposal incident," Astor comments with a knowing look.

"Do you love him?" Queen Grace asks suddenly, her voice gentle but probing. The question cuts through the celebratory chatter like a blade, and suddenly all eyes are on me again.

Knox's hand tightens around mine, barely perceptible tension radiating from his frame. This isn't just idle curiosity—my answer matters to him, more than he wants to admit.

I turn to look at Knox, letting my gaze soften as I study his handsome face. The strong jaw, the aristocratic nose, the green eyes that watch me with such hope. Features that mirror his father's so perfectly it makes my chest ache with rage.

"I'll stand by Knox," I say finally, my voice steady and sure. "I'll be the Luna Queen he needs, the partner he deserves. Whatever the future brings, we'll face it together."

It's not a declaration of love, but it's a promise—just not the kind they think. Knox's expression shifts, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Gratitude, maybe. Or recognition that I've just committed to more than a simple political alliance.

Before anyone can press for more details, King Alexander rises from his chair. The movement commands immediate attention, the room falling silent as everyone waits for the Alpha's words.

This is it. The moment I've been dreading and anticipating in equal measure.

"A toast," King Alexander declares, raising his crystal wine glass high. His voice carries the same commanding authority I remember from my nightmares—cultured, confident, utterly without remorse. "To new beginnings!"

The words slam into me like a physical blow. New beginnings. As if my family's massacre was just another day at the office for him. As if the blood he spilled was so meaningless he's already forgotten it ever happened.

My hands shake as I reach for my wine glass, the crystal stem slippery in my suddenly sweaty palms. Around the table, the others raise their glasses with warm smiles and murmured agreements. Knox's free hand settles on my lower back, a gesture of support that I want to shake off like a venomous snake.

He probably doesn't remember, I realize with sick clarity. My entire family, my whole pack—we were so worthless to him that he doesn't even recognize the name Lancelot. We were nothing.

The thought hurts worse than any physical blow. Not only did King Alexander order the slaughter of everyone I loved, but we were so insignificant to him that our deaths left no lasting impression. Just another day, another obstacle removed, another page in his bloody legacy.

Every muscle in my body screams at me to attack. To leap across this table and wrap my hands around his throat, to watch the life drain from his eyes, the way I watched it drain from my brother's. Justice delayed is justice denied, and he's been walking free for far too long.

I dig my nails into my palms until I feel the sharp bite of pain, using it to anchor myself to the present. Not yet, I remind myself. Not time.

But soon.

"To Knox and Aubrey!" King Alexander continues, his voice booming with false warmth. "May your union bring strength to our kingdom and joy to your hearts!"

The same voice that once commanded, "Kill them all. Leave none alive." The same casual delivery of life-altering orders, whether blessing a marriage or ordering a massacre.

"Oh, you have to kiss!" Iris claps her hands together, bouncing slightly in her excitement. "Come on, don't be shy!"

Heat floods my cheeks, but it's shame rather than embarrassment that colors my skin. Knox turns toward me with genuine affection written across his features, and I want to scream. Want to tell him exactly who his father is, exactly what blood runs in his veins.

Instead, I tilt my face up toward his as he leans down, our lips meeting in what the room probably sees as a sweet, romantic gesture. Knox's mouth is warm against mine, his kiss gentle and reverent. The same mouth that whispered my name like a prayer when we had sex, that promised to protect me, that swore we'd build something beautiful together.

I'm kissing the son of my family's murderer while his father watches approvingly.

The thought makes me dizzy with revulsion. The room erupts in cheers and applause, wine glasses clinking in celebration, but all I can hear is my own thundering heartbeat.

When Knox finally pulls back, his eyes are soft with an emotion I don't want to identify. His thumb brushes across my cheek with devastating tenderness, and for a moment I see past the royal facade to the man underneath. The man who carried me when I was hurt, who brings me flowers every morning, who holds me like I'm something precious.

The man whose father destroyed my world.