"W-why the Luna?"
Mr. Ronald halted mid-step and turned back to .
"Because she wants to see you. Is there any problem?"
"W-well, I-I don’t want to see her—"
"It is not a request," Mr. Ronald cut in sharply. "Now, follow behind ."
He turned back around, his strides purposeful, while my shaky legs trailed nervously behind.
If the Luna knew the Late Alpha’s best friend, then she probably knew what his daughter looked like. I’m dood.
So, this is how I die? This is how my life ends?
Mr. Ronald suddenly made a sharp turn, leading us into a smaller hallway with an elevator waiting at the far end.
The polished elevator doors reflected our figures, and I caught sight of myself for the first ti since slipping into the bodycon gown. The dress hugged perfectly—from the curve of my bust to the dip of my sides. My cleavage peeked out slightly. Was it right to appear before the Luna like this, knowing I had slept with her husband the night before?
I tried to steady my breath just as the elevator dinged open, and we stepped inside.
It climbed smoothly, stopping on the fourth floor. I rembered overhearing that the Pack House was six stories tall—each floor assigned specifically: the Luna’s floor, the Alpha’s, the Beta’s, and the Beta Luna’s. The rest, I heard, contained things like a theater room, a bar, even a drawing room.
When the elevator dinged again, the doors opened to reveal a luxurious lounge. An L-shaped white couch sat neatly arranged in front of a flat-screen TV, while a dining area stretched beyond and a small office glead behind a mahogany chair.
It was supposed to be an office, but it looked more like an elegant living room. The interior was exquisite—breathtaking, even. But I didn’t have the luxury of gawking. My world was crumbling, and I was monts away from exposure... maybe even sothing worse than death.
We sat on the L-shaped couch, waiting for the Luna when Mr. Ronald suddenly lifted his head and sniffed.
"The Alpha and his Beta were here a few minutes ago," he said.
My heart jolted violently. Flashes of last night flickered—though they weren’t mories so much as fragnts. I couldn’t recall anything beyond the first round. I didn’t rember putting on a robe, or even bleeding. Sothing else had happened. Sothing I couldn’t rember—and maybe it was better that way.
A tap on my shoulder snapped out of my thoughts.
"Didn’t you hear ?"
I raised a brow.
"I said, can’t you sll the Alpha? Considering you spent a night with him, you should be able to recognize his scent."
I froze.
I was never good with scents. My Oga powers were too weak. Without a wolf, I couldn’t track slls, couldn’t run as fast as others, couldn’t even sense people’s ranks properly.
"I-I-I can sll him," I lied.
"What does he sll like? I’ve always been curious. I recognize his dominant scent as Alpha, but what about beyond that? You spent a night with him—you should know." He turned to expectantly.
Masculinity and flowers. I rembered it vividly, but I wouldn’t be able to trace it if he wasn’t near.
I was about to answer when a feminine voice rang out from down the hall.
Mr. Ronald imdiately stood, adjusting his tailored suit. I scrambled to my feet too, trying to calm my rapid breaths.
Whatever happens, I’ll plead for my life.
Monts later, the door creaked open. A figure stepped in—tall, slender, her gaze sharp enough to slice in two.
Her eyes landed on instantly, and the red lipstick painted across her full lips faltered.
"Who is she?" she spat, her voice dripping with disgust.
"Uhm... T-this is the Alpha’s soon-to-be breeding mate, Luna," Mr. Ronald stamred.
She ended her call with a snap, setting her phone aside.
"Bambi?"
I swallowed hard and nodded slowly. Maybe she didn’t recognize the real Bambi.
She moved closer, her hips swaying elegantly, jet-black hair cascading over her shoulder. The fitted dress sculpted her petite fra perfectly. She was flawless—of course she was. She was the wife of the most gorgeous man I had ever seen.
Her scent wrapped around , thick and intoxicating—roses and honey.
Her manicured fingers lifted my chin, forcing to et her piercing gaze. My breath caught in my throat.
She stared at with unnerving intensity, as though she was peeling away every layer of my soul. Then, with sudden dismissal, she dropped my chin and strode to her desk, tossing down her designer bag.
She turned to Mr. Ronald. "Leave us."
Without hesitation, he bowed low and slipped out, leaving the door shut firmly behind him.
Now alone with the Luna, my heart sank to my stomach, my breath short and uneven.
The sharp clink of her heels against the tiled floor echoed as she approached again.
She knows.
Without warning, my hair was yanked back violently. Pain seared across my scalp, and I dropped to my knees, head forced low. Her grip was so strong, it was as if she had summoned all her strength—but her breathing remained calm, her voice steady.
"You are not Bambi."
The words confird my worst fear.
"You are not Mr. Hawke’s daughter. Now, you’re going to tell who you really are, how you managed to steal Bambi’s identity, where the real Bambi is, and lastly..." Her mouth lowered near my ear, her breath warm against my neck. "Tell how the fuck a filthy Oga like you dared to pretend to be Mr. Hawke’s daughter!"
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