Chapter 170
The dining hall buzzed with the vibrant chatter of junior ambassadors, the clinking of utensils, and the low hum of light jazz that floated through the air. The evening was alive with warmth—golden chandeliers casting a mellow glow across the polished floors, long tables adorned with bowls of roasted meats, vegetables dripping in butter, and fresh bread that made your mouth water.
I walked beside Anna, who had traded her usual dark attire for a simple black dress that somehow made her look even more mysterious. Her blue eyes scanned the room with quiet curiosity.
“You okay?” she asked, giving me a sideways glance.
“Yeah,” I lied. “Just hungry.”
That much was true, but the twist in my stomach had nothing to do with hunger. My eyes instinctively searched the room—and then they landed on him.
Jeremiah.
Standing tall and regal at a table not far from ours, dressed in a fitted black shirt that hugged his broad shoulders. His back was turned to me, but I would recognize that presence anywhere. Power, grace, authority. He didn’t even have to speak. He was magnetic.
And beside him—her.
Esther.
She leaned slightly toward him as she laughed at something he said. Her long golden hair shimmered under the lights, and her perfect posture screamed elegance. Her smile was beautiful, sure, but there was something too polished about it. Too calculated. It made my skin crawl.
I frowned, unable to look away. “Do you know who that is?” I asked Anna, trying to keep my voice casual.
She followed my gaze. “Esther. She’s from the Glacier Moon Pack. Ambassador-in-training. Her dad’s a council elder.”
Of course she had a shiny pedigree. “Are they a thing?”
Anna tilted her head thoughtfully. “Rumors say she’s his mate. Some say they’re just... seeing each other.” She shrugged. “Hard to tell. She sticks close, though.”
My heart dropped like a stone in my chest.
His mate? No. No. I was his mate. The moon chose us. Our bond was sacred—more than politics, more than convenience.
But maybe he didn’t care anymore.
I swallowed back the rising bitterness. His arm brushed Esther’s as he reached for a drink, and she smiled at him like he belonged to her.
I stabbed my fork into a piece of roasted potato with more force than necessary.
“Be right back,” I muttered, rising from the table.
“Everything okay?” Anna asked.
“Just need some air.”
She didn’t press, which I appreciated. I weaved through the tables, keeping a safe distance, eyes locked on Jeremiah as he and Esther moved toward the far hallway. I didn’t know what I planned to do—maybe confront him, maybe remind him that I was still here, that I still mattered.
They didn’t part ways.
My pace slowed as I watched them reach the end of the corridor, speaking softly—too softly for me to hear—and then, without hesitation, they both stepped into one of the guest rooms.
Together.
My breath caught.
They didn’t leave the door open.
They were inside. Together.
A chill raced down my spine despite the heat of the room.
I stood frozen in the hallway, concealed behind a marble pillar. Minutes ticked by like hours. I told myself they were talking. Just politics. Maybe she had nowhere else to go. Maybe—
Then I heard it.
A soft, breathy moan. Followed by a deeper sound, something low and masculine.
My chest caved in.
No.
No, no, no.
I spun on my heel, feet carrying me down the stairs before I could even think. My eyes stung, and I didn’t care if anyone saw. I shoved through the dining room doors and rushed into the nearest bathroom, slamming the door behind me.
The cold tile floor grounded me as I gripped the edge of the marble sink. My reflection in the mirror was a stranger—eyes glossy with tears, face pale, lips trembling.
I had traveled all this way.
I had humbled myself, stripped my pride bare just to find him again, just to speak to him—to fix things.
And he was with her.
I let out a choked sob and leaned forward, pressing my forehead against the cool mirror.
You idiot, Astrid.
He had given up. Chosen someone else. Rejected the bond we shared, the promise written in our blood.
I crumpled onto the floor, knees pulled to my chest, silent tears streaking down my cheeks. All I could see was the way he looked at her—how close they stood, how effortless it all seemed.
It was like I never existed.
But after the storm passed—after my shoulders stopped shaking—I slowly stood again. I wiped my cheeks clean, took a deep breath, and stared at myself in the mirror.
My mother’s voice echoed in my mind. “If I made it through, you will too.”
And my father—his lessons, his strength, his unwavering presence.
He wouldn’t want me crying over a man who didn’t deserve me. He’d raised me to be fierce, to be a leader.
I straightened my posture.
Alpha Alexander’s daughter wasn’t born to break.
I looked into my own eyes and whispered, “You are going to make them remember your name.”
Not for heartbreak.
Not for drama.
But for power.
I was going to dominate this summit. I was going to become the strongest Alpha of my generation—not for Jeremiah, not even for myself—but for the pack I would one day lead. For the little brother growing inside my mother’s womb. For the warriors who would look to me for guidance.
Let Jeremiah have his snow-skinned siren. Let him pretend our bond meant nothing.
He would see me rise.
And regret every second he spent walking away.
I walked out of that bathroom with fire in my blood and ice in my veins. The pain was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but it was no longer a weakness.
It was fuel.
Anna looked up as I approached the table again. She didn’t ask questions, just passed me a plate of warm bread.
“Thanks,” I said softly.
She gave me a small smile. “Whatever it is, you’ll figure it out.”
I nodded, gripping the bread like a lifeline.
Because I would.
No more tears.
No more waiting.
Let the summit begin.
Let them all see what I was made of.
Because I was done letting Alpha dickhead—or anyone else—write my story.
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